There was something familiar about that girl. It was more than talking with her at a single’s conference two years prior. I didn’t want to assume she was the dark black curly haired girl from my recurring dream, with her warm embrace that always brought me comfort and peace of knowing everything was wonderful.
She had gained the interest of several guys on the dance floor. One handsome gentleman jotted down her number. That did not deter me. In fact, it gave me courage seeing she was willing to give her number out to someone she just met. I knew she wouldn’t likely remember me from all the other guys she had met since, but I confidently mentioned how we had met before. I asked her to dance and we had a nice conversation. I told her it was nice to see her again and easily transitioned into asking if I could call on her sometime. A couple days later we scheduled a date.
For some reason her toes of all things triggered something of a flashback. Yeah, her painted toenails and her stylish sandals with the flower atop the strap. It was like something I’d seen before, but I knew I hadn’t. That was the first moment of De Ja Vu. The next was something she said in the car. It was like we had been on this exact date before. I simply took her for ice cream, the type of date that I had often been on, so I chalked it up to routine. I resolved to take her on a more formal date to live theater next. In between, I typed up a devotional (as the transcript would not be ready for a while) that I had heard the next week, which seemed especially apropos for her. She thanked me profusely. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling. We walked a dog the next date. There it was again. Almost every significant thing we did felt repeated. I asked her about it after she turned me down for a fourth date and she thought I was crazy.