Sunday, April 8, 2012

What Happens in Vegas...


He approached us as we exited the Marquee, offering free drinks and entrance into the Bank Nightclub in Bellagio. It didn't take much to persuade three girls who were scavenging for free drinks to follow him. It certainly didn't hurt that he was cute.

He was only 23 years of age though he looked quite statuesque in his finely pressed black suit. He had recently graduated from Dartmouth and was investing his time on a start-up business while promoting for clubs in Vegas as a part-time venture. He was half Chinese and half Polish, though he looked like a more Asian replica of Daniel Grayson from the hit series Revenge. At the end of the day, his soft looks, gentlemanly demeanor, and his charming smile won me over.

They say that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Yet it's been less than twelve hours since we last bonded over a cranberry cocktail at the Bank Nightclub and I am itching to text him, to hear from him, to see him just one more time. I suppose there is a world of difference between reality and fantasy. My roommate, the ever pragmatic one, has been consistently reminding me of how foolish it is to dwell on a guy who I met for an hour at a Vegas nightclub.

"He's a club promoter," she reminds me, "he sees a ton of hot girls every night and probably makes out with a different girl every week."

The rational part of my brain understands perfectly the logic that my roommate is attempting to impart on me yet my emotions are in overdrive at the moment. You know, the moment when you meet someone perfect and you fall heads-over-heel for the person. The moment when you feel the adrenaline rush, your heart beats on overdrive, and a stupid loopy smile is permanently plastered on your face. Four months ago, I swore that I wouldn't fall in love  again since the pain of a failed long-term relationship was too much to bear. But I simply couldn't help myself.

I wish we had more time to sit and converse last night. I wish we had more time, away from the booming top 40 hits/electronic music playing over the speakers, to get to know each other better. I wish that I could have spent the whole night with him. And I sincerely wish that I'm not being delusional in hoping that our time together wasn't simply a case of half-drunken lust.

Is it completely foolish to believe that our thing was special and that he isn't wooing a different girl every night? Is it insane to hope that the encounter will blossom into something more? Is it completely irrational to hope that what happens in Vegas does not have to necessarily wilt and die in Vegas?




Song of the Day (the song that is playing in my head every time I think of him and our night in Vegast)
Dancin' Away With My Heart - Lady Antebellum

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