From behind the metal barrier, you spot him as he emerges from baggage claim’s enormous swinging doors like a beautiful luggage-wielding outlaw. When he spots you, he beams. When he wheels closer to you, he notices what you are wearing, how you are standing, the look on your face, and he begins to laugh.
You will frequently wind up kissing boys sitting next to the boys you should be kissing.
Run away to Paris. Gaze at the pink and pistachio glow of macarons in the window on Boulevard Saint-Germain. Listen to Joni Mitchell. Meet an Argentinean man in the Latin Quarter for drinks. Melt into his accent and kiss him goodnight, but return to your apartment alone because his face doesn’t look enough like the man’s you are trying to forget.