Welcome to the third installment in this series. Some basic house rules before we proceed together.

First, if you have somehow reached this story without reading the two that came before it, then you can find them hereand here. If you attempt to proceed without reading it, you may indeed find immense satisfaction but will certainly find hopeless confusion as well.

Second, as previously promised, I will be giving you a musical guide to compliment the written word. These songs helped me write these words, put me in touch with my soul, and in some cases, brought me back to these moments you will read about.

I suggest listening to the music softly while you read. However, you may do as you wish.

If you have duly prepared yourself, then I have no further reason to delay you.

Now let’s see…where were we?

Paris - Magic Man

The next encounter I had with her was a completely unanticipated one.

The occasion that evening, as I recall, was a party organized by one of the university dormitories. It was being held at one of the more well-known and upscale clubs in Milan called Just Cavalli. It was the club built by and reflected the essence of famous designer Roberto Cavalli.

I originally had no intention of going. In fact, I was sitting on the stoop of my own dorm building smoking a cigarette and chatting with one of my Italian friends when I got a call on my phone from my best mate, who I knew was at this party. I was expecting it to be a drunk dial.

I was half right.

The conversation went something like this.

“Charles!!!!!! You have to get over here,” he said excitedly.

“Nah, man. It’s already really late. By the time I get ready and leave here the metro would be closing. I wouldn’t be at the club until almost midnight,” I responded.

“Shut up. She’s here fool," he said through a cloud of laughter and chattering in the background.

“Who?”

“You know who yah bastard,” he shot back.

Me and him have a habit of mocking each other mercilessly even though we love each other like brothers. It’s just a weird quirk in our relationship.

He was my one of my closest friends and confidants during my time abroad. He still is. He saw me and her interact that day we met in October. I had been so overwhelmed by her that I had to tell someone just what I thought of her because I was afraid that bearing the weight, as wonderful a weight as it was, would crush me in my sleep.

He provided me with an open ear and encouragement when I could not get out of my own way or let my doubting rationale speak louder than my grounded heart.

He knew exactly how deep my affections were for this woman. He never once brushed me off when I shared some new exciting revelation I discovered about her. He was genuinely happy to hear me talk about someone who moved and provided me with the exterior perspective that allowed me to see just how deeply she had touched my soul.

“Wait, really?” I asked.

“Yup, so quit your whining (I’m paraphrasing here) and get over here.”

“Dude no way! I haven’t seen her in a while. I wasn’t expecting to see her tonight. I can’t see her man. I’m too nervous,” I exclaimed as I jumped up and started rapidly pacing across the stoop.

“What are you worried about? She’s here with her friends, just come here and talk with her a bit. What do you have to lose? Stop being a little girl (Again, paraphrasing) and get yourself over here," he said.

I knew he wouldn't let me hang up the phone until I agreed to go, so I did.

I ran upstairs and got myself together. Some time passed before I decided on a black button down with black shoes and dark jeans. I ran — literally ran — to catch the last metro of the night and made it to the club right when I said I would.

I met some Italian friends of mine outside and went in with them.

The club was indoors, as it was late-April and the outdoor dance floors would not open up until the early days of May.

I found my mate, ignored his "state," and immediately asked if he had seen her.

He told me where he last spotted her, and I took off like a shot, leaving him to try and catch up with my quick steps.

Guillotine - Jon Bellion

We all danced and had a good time for a little bit, but through it all, I found myself constantly scanning the room to see if I could catch a glimpse. I casually weaved through the warm, pulsing mass of boozed up bodies as I surveyed the room in an attempt to not be too conspicuous.

I stepped outside and we joined some of our other friends after striking out. At that point, I was slightly annoyed that I had gone through all the trouble of getting there and not having seen her.

My friend convinced me to come into the club again with him in hopes of finding her on the dance-floor. By this point, I thought he might have been exaggerating about her actually being there when he called me earlier in order to get me to come out with him. But I was there and decided to enjoy the night regardless.

Not two minutes later I bumped into her.

I tried to act completely surprised to see her there, something I am sure she saw right through in an instant, but if she did she never showed it. The music was pounding so loud I could not hear the words coming out of her mouth. I could only see her mouth moving as she smiled.

I could not tell if the strobe light was blinding me or if she was.

It actually took me a few seconds before I could get a really good look at her because every second the strobe light would come on, and then it would turn off for nearly two seconds.

She was wearing a black blouse and what looked to be a black leather skirt with dark stockings and black heels. All of this complimented by a very dark shade of lip stick.

I could not help but be intrigued by the contrast that stood before me. A woman with such a gentle and warm soul clad in such a dark ensemble. I let a small smile creep across my mouth as the thought passed through my mind.

I tried, and failed, to strike up a conversation with her. A tactical error on my part considering the exceptional volume of sound found in the setting of this particular interaction.

She went outside with her friends, and I didn’t see her again for a great while.

Since the day I met her in October, I had been having a great internal struggle within myself.

Here was someone who had such a profound impact on me in mere moments, had caused me to experience emotions that I had never experienced and question ones I previously thought I understood.

She was a reflection of the best parts of my own soul but also a shining gem completely unique in her own right.

I was still working out exactly what I felt, how strongly I felt it and how it all fit (whether it fit at all) on my journey.

I was under no delusions as to the geographic barrier that stood between our lives.

Trust me, I looked it up...it's a lot of geography.

Some days I wished I had been born in Italy but would then reminded myself the adventure is in the journey. Even though I wished to high heaven that I had met her, known her or had even seen her for a fleeting instant before that day in October, I knew deep down that was just my soul running over with selfish desire.

I have always believed that we all have a journey that is uniquely our own. Mine required me to wait a little more than 22 years before reaching this particular crossing of my life path, as much as I hate that it took that long.

I knew that my time at this particular crossing had an expiration date that was rapidly approaching. The traffic at the intersection was beginning to slow to a stop as it always does before the signal to cross comes on. I knew it was coming but could not stop it.

I desperately wanted to run into that intersection and scream at the cars to keep going; to never come to the complete and total stop that allows us to move on from a particular street corner. I had been on this corner for some time and felt so intimately attached I never wanted to step off it.

But life doesn't work that way...and neither do street crossings.

A sense of urgency had settled down within me, particularly over the preceding few weeks. I do believe that part of our journey through life requires us to sit back and trust the design and path that the universe had laid out for us.

I also believe part of that journey is recognizing the importance of a particular intersection and proactively taking action to decide which direction you need to take.

Adding even more complexity to my existential dilemma are my trust issues with the unknown.

We can see the road behind us that got us to this point in our lives and the actions we took to ultimately arrive here. However, the road in front of us is blinded. Sometimes we think we know or make educated guesses as to the future that lies before us, but the only thing we can know with absolute certainty is that it is ultimately shielded from us until we arrive.

My great internal struggle was whether to passively let my path unfold before me or to take action that could potentially set myself up for a more self-desired final destination.

Would that action alter my path completely?

Would that action or any action at all be the right one for my journey, or would it be a mistake to interfere with such superior forces. Would I jeopardize my journey all together?

Would I be playing god with my life by taking such action?

This is why I have trust issues with the unknown…

That night, I opted for the bolder approach.

The majority of my time abroad was behind me, not ahead of me. I was beginning to feel the number of days waning and knew that my time with her was running out. I was torn because I knew the separation was inevitable, but I was deeply saddened by the thought of leaving such a beautiful soul.

Fear began to pervade my mind again.

I was afraid the miles would make us forget, that I might fade from her memory as the days turned to week, months or some unknown measurement of time before, or heaven forbid, if I ever saw her again.

I believed I was in her peripheral vision at that time and told myself I had to move further within her view beyond any possible memory loss that distance and time tends to bring down upon us.

As the night wore on I placed myself near the front of the club so I could catch her as she left. Sure enough, right on cue, I saw her leaving. I caught her before she made it out of the club.

I asked her if she was leaving even though I already knew the answer, and she knew I did too. I told her how disappointed I was that I only got to see her for such a little bit and made her promise me a dance the next time we went out together. She smiled and agreed.

For a man who spent much of his life planning for the future and all the scenarios it may bring, I was remarkably ill-prepared once we got to this point. I had determined that I had to take some kind of action but never got as far as deciding what action to take.

Then my mouth got a life of its own and began to sprint beyond any region resembling emotional comfort and into the terrifyingly bold and dark void know in layman’s terms as: "stepping out of the comfort zone."

I could hear the words coming out of my mouth asking her what she was doing next week, but I had no control over them. I literally could not control what was coming out of my own mouth. It was both exciting and horrifying to observe.

As I could hear myself begin to tell her about this great restaurant I went to a few weeks ago that I thought she would love, my mind began to scream.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!! STOP!!! STOP!!! Boy, she’s gonna shoot your plane right out of the sky”

The doubt was strong and pervasive, but I thank whatever force in the universe there is that kept me from giving into it. She liked the idea and agreed to go with me to this bistro I had found not far from our university. A few weeks later, we went and we spent an evening together that I will never forget for as long as I live…but that’s another story.