A few days ago, Facebook threw one of my long-forgotten contacts back into my feed. I hadn’t seen her in at least thirty years. She’d aged—like all of us—but still… there was something about her. Something that made me stop scrolling. She was still attractive, with that quiet beauty she always had. I just never noticed it back then.
When I first met her, we were barely teens. She used to be the kind of girl you’d walk right past in the school hallway without ever noticing — quiet, plain, never drawing attention (what we’d call a “grey little mouse” in Hungarian). Nothing “special” about her. Over the years, we ran into each other a lot. Same circle of friends, same parties, that same teenage sense of freedom. We rebelled together, grew into young adults together — but I never once looked at her as a woman.
Until that one summer. We had just finished high school and were living like there was no tomorrow. We were hitchhiking to a weekend party by Lake Balaton — back then, that counted as an adventure. As soon as we jumped out of the car by the highway, we headed straight for the beach. The sun was blazing, the air was shimmering. About fifty meters ahead of us, two girls were walking toward the water — slim, sun-kissed bodies, tiny thongs, barely-there bikini tops. You couldn’t not notice them.
We picked up the pace, hoping to catch up, maybe say something witty, maybe earn a smile. I called out to one of them, and when she turned around… my heart nearly stopped. It was her — the girl no one ever looked twice at. But now, all eyes would turn. She had bloomed into a stunning woman. The awkward teenager was gone — her movements were fluid now, her confidence effortless, her smile still familiar.
The weekend went by fast. We didn’t meet again at the party, and after that, not for a long while. University started, my days got packed, the parties became less frequent. Then, just before Christmas, we bumped into each other again. We talked for hours. And this time, I couldn’t see her as just an old friend. I asked her out, and she said yes right away.
The next day, I took her to dinner. Later, we cuddled in a bar. Then we went back to my place. Things unfolded like they usually do. We kissed, ended up on my bed. I was sure of myself—things had happened countless times in that bed. But this time, it took a different turn.
I found you a place
To gaze at the stars,
You fear me like fire
Yet fire only warms.
Let my hands roam,
What we do is forgivable,
Feel the blood pulsing
As we lie here together.
Your body shivers, and I burn everywhere,
You float above the restless waves,
Something beautiful has begun between us,
Tonight, confession will have to wait.
Let my hands roam,
What we do is forgivable,
Feel the blood pulsing
As we lie here together.
You tremble, you could be bolder,
But even so, you're beautiful to me.
The wildflowers are already in bloom…
We’ve both won and rise, trembling,
Now everything feels pure and real,
But trust me—it’s not enough.
We’ll have to fight to keep this moment.
Let my hands roam,
What we do is forgivable,
Feel the blood pulsing
As we lie here together.
You tremble, you could be bolder,
But even so, you're beautiful to me.
The wildflowers are already in bloom…
You tremble, you could be bolder,
But even so, you're beautiful to me.
The wildflowers are already in bloom…
And even so, you're beautiful to me.
My hand slowly slid under her blouse and gently touched her breast. – I was really good at that, to be honest. I could run my hand across a girl’s body in a way that barely touched her, but always left an effect. – She shivered, pressed close to me, even wrapped her legs around me. And then she whispered: “I never even let Zsolti do this.” I froze. Zsolti was her boyfriend. (Still was, technically.) They’d been together for almost two years. She immediately saw the shock on my face, and kissed me even harder. But I couldn’t go through with it. I just couldn’t do to her what I so easily did with other girls. No matter how perfect her body was, inside she was still the same 14-year-old—naive, a little lost—the girl I once knew.
It was a strange night. We explored each other’s bodies like two clumsy teenagers (well, one of us was), tried almost everything — except “that thing”. She was clearly enjoying it (loud enough to leave no doubt). But her innocence remained.
Now, thirty years later, I think she was probably ready that night. She wanted to give it to me. To a childhood friend. Someone familiar, someone safe. Maybe it was a mistake not to accept it. In any case, she never reached out again after that night.
And now I saw her again. But she no longer lives in my memories—she lives in someone else’s.
The lights slip
Through my fingers,
The road vanishes
Beneath my feet.
The waves rise,
Over my head,
The depths pull me down
To the realm of gods.
With the wind against me,
What can I do?
As a stranger passing through,
Who could I turn to?
The grains wear away,
As they always do.
I’ll become the lover
Of an open eternity.
My candle-body
Burns away slowly,
Others will give light
In my place.
I release my shadow
Forever, and free…
Beneath a beautiful tree
Alone with myself,
Your body lulls me
With false words.
I should be smiling
With closed eyes,
Sweet life, infected with fire
Please, never forget me.
(Apologies to my English-speaking readers. These songs were written by a poet—and some things simply can’t be translated well.)