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I was working for a pub-crawl in Croatia, flyer posting during the day and partying during the night. It was my day off when two of my friends and I decided to stroll around town.
I first saw him in a bar, our eyes locked for what seemed like an eternity and just like in the movies, the world stopped spinning, everything around us blurred, got quiet and all I could see was him.
To be fair, I was pretty drunk.
I looked at him as I made my way back to my friends and as soon as I reached them and he was out of sight, the world started spinning again. The surroundings became clearer and the noises louder. Everything had gone to normal.
I didn’t see him again, and to be honest hadn’t even thought of him until two days later when my friend walked past me, guiding two boys to our pub-crawl’s first location. I was shocked. There he was, as breath taking as I barely remembered.
When I saw him taking a seat to have a beer, I remember suddenly needing to go to the bar to get more flyers, but after he saw me and we talked—or should I say flirted—for a bit, I completely forgot about the flyers. When I went back to the friend I was supposed to flyer with, I simply told her that I remembered that I had spare ones in my bag. Which wasn’t a lie—I had more than enough flyers.
After that things progressed very quickly. We ended up talking for hours, connecting over things I thought were silly before. He made everything I thought was silly, feel like something magical.
He left Croatia four days after we started talking and two weeks before I did. Even though he went home, which is 546 km apart from mine, we grew closer and closer—each day sharing more stories, thoughts, hopes, fears and dreams. We talked about our parents, our lousy, not-in-the-picture dads in particular. We discussed our views on relationships and life. We even joked about our marriage and children.
So, of course I had to visit him. It wasn’t a lie that visiting the city he happened to live in, had been on my bucket list for years, but he definitely made going more appealing.
If only I didn’t go. As soon as I went, and saw him again, this time not in Croatia, everything felt different. It was then that I truly realised the meaning of a summer fling. It was then that I realised, people really are different on vacation than they are back home.
I guess he felt the same way cause not long after my visit we agreed to stop talking. Even though it was something we both agreed on, I took it really hard. Suddenly, the guy I shared everything with was gone. The guy who read everything I wrote, was gone. The reason for writing, was gone. Or so I thought.
Turns out, not talking to him, gave me so much more to write about. He made me find my passion, my love for writing.
See the thing is, the shortest yet greatest love story of all time was never about loving him. It was about loving the things he brought out in me.
The shortest, yet greatest love story was about finding my love for writing.