I got it from a film, he says: “Maybe I wrote my book so I would meet you..” and I thought, maybe I’m writing this so I could meet you.

You know, you’d read it somewhere as you were surfing some blogs and came across mine and you’d say: “hey! That’s me” and you’d find me and we’d meet. Perhaps again, or else anew.

I’d write as I’m doing now of someone I’d met long ago, not too long, yet, not not so long ago, just enough time to have passed to make it a memory that you’d have to just try a bit harder to recall, but not right there that you’d remember in an instant.

You’ll remember, you’ll remember when I stood there at the corner of St. Denis and some other street waiting to meet you for the first time. The light would turn red and there’d be people waiting and I’d stare at the faces, searching for that look of anticipated recognition, of a voice through the sensation, of that moment of wonder is he real? Is he ugly? Is he gonna come? The lights turn green and they walk by me, past me, perhaps even through me, but you weren’t amongst them.

The day is beautiful, as good as can be and I turn to look down St. Denis and this cute guy is walking towards the intersection. It can’t be! He’s too cute! Could I be that lucky? He gazes across and gives me the exact look that I give him. We smile.

He wore a white shirt and jeans, carrying over his hand a beige jacket for those just in case moments. We cross back going down to a French cafe he knows, we’re in Quebec, but this cafe is French as in France.

Raguel fascinated me, he was an American with a unique name, a lovely skin colour, beautiful features, musical voice and an abundance of intellect and culture. No, he not only fascinated me, but surprised me, all of that in a man, and an American to say the least.

You see, with all the amazing things that the US exports to the world, it has never sought to work hard on leaving such an impression on the world. Sad but true. We have the brave heroic American who saves the world, or the charming guy who has a lot of heart, or the funny quirky handsome guy who can make you laugh when you’re about to cry, or even the fabulous jock who gets to date the prettiest girls at school. Rarely, if ever is an American in a movie portrayed as a cultured, intelligent individual, that guy is usually English, occasionally French, infrequently italian, rarely Spanish or German. As for the rest of the world’s nationalities, it depends on the author.

So you must excuse my presumptions and misconceptions regarding American men. Actually, it’s probably similar to those thoughts on Saudi Men.

To be continued..