It's the Thought That Counts

Guy meets girl, finally.

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. After years and years battling a dull, melancholy life, there is now a meaning for me again. It is because of her.

         I know I don’t fit the mold belonging to a typical guy.  I’m too nice and don’t get taken seriously enough. Or sometimes, rather humorously to me, get taken too seriously.  I don’t inspire a middle ground opinion. I am always too much of something or not enough of something else. Most of this is probably just in my head. It’s all just in my head.

         My mind is too analytical.  Nothing ever happens for the sake of happening.  There are always multiple contributing factors and various outside forces that must be acting upon the decisions of everyone around me completely eliminating the possibility of spontaneity which might be the result of human error.  I believe that every word, every action, every suggestion made to me is a very calculated and precise decision made by the offending party.  Yet, part of me knows this is not the case.  I don’t listen to that part of me. Sometimes people make decisions that are wrong.  Sometimes people make decisions they regret.  Sometimes people make decisions based off of instinct.  Sometimes people make decisions that they don’t actually know they are making.  

              Sometimes things just happen. I know this. My mind chooses to not know this.

              I’d like to be normal. I’d like to be able to not care about the results of my failed pursuit of a girl and to just move on to the next one, blaming her for missing out on me instead of dealing with the blame I always place on myself.  The problem is that my mind needs facts and figures and evidence.  It never just doesn’t work out, there must be concrete reasons as to why; fixable problems that can be solved. That’s not how life works, unfortunately.  My mind wants life to work this way.

All that I want is company.  My niceness leads girls to assume I’m in it for the long haul; to think that I only want a long-term serious relationship. At this point I’d just like to enjoy some company.

              This loneliness is my struggle.  Or at least it was my struggle, until I saw her that day.

              Something instantly clicked when I laid eyes on her.  As much as my cynicism refuses to believe that it is possible to just know when something is right, I knew that she was what I wanted. For once I let my analytical mind go, not even realizing I had done so. In my mind I imagined I was myself around her. I brushed away the cynic that is my inner conscience.  I could be at ease around her. All of this happened, I told myself.  She accepted me for who I am. She loved me for it, rather.  She wanted something different from the norm, and I am anything but normal. I no longer had the wish to be normal.

              And here she is, standing in front of me now.  Oh, how far I have come �" how far we have come. I take in the sight of her as if it is the first time we have met.

         Her long, blonde hair was swept behind her shoulders, except for a few uncooperative locks pushed over her collarbone by the wind. Her blue eyes were beyond bright, giving off a new sort of coy understanding.  Looking up into my eyes, a few wrinkles form as she arches her eyebrows.  I’ve never paid much attention to her eyebrows, at least, a lot less attention than she does.  Her unspectacular lips become just the opposite, beautiful simply because they are a part of her.  Her small frame, her short stature, and modestly appealing body all present themselves humbly, yet if she felt like it she could make most any man strive for her company. She seems to possess the uncanny ability to seamlessly transition from innocent and cute to bold and beautiful.

         I want to call her to me by name, but my mind betrays itself. Too distracted by the intimidating newness this observation of her seems to be.

Standing there, she seems etched of marble.  She looks as if she is the statue of a goddess who towers over me while at the same time looks upwards into my face and seemingly past it into my mind and soul. I balk, my mind stammering, struggling to formulate words but I’m not even trying to speak any more, simply to think. 

         Suddenly the dam in my mind breaks and thoughts flow heavily and freely. 

               I think of our first argument, where I was merely trying to make a sarcastic, humorous remark that turns out to hit a nerve of hers for a reason she isn’t willing to admit.  Yet in a moment of stupidity my reaction is to resist blame because I didn’t do anything wrong and was not being serious when clearly all I had to do was concede defeat and say the right things and admit I was, in fact, wrong.  Bad choice. We were able to talk it out, as communication is so important in any relationship.  The wrong thing was said at the wrong time.  Looking back on it, it seems like such a trivial and unimportant moment, but sometimes those are the moments that can make or break a relationship.

               I look back to the time that she called me, crying, because she doesn’t feel her parents appreciate her and one too many remarks from them have pushed her over the edge.  I calm her down, assure her she is deserving of quite a lot of praise and adoration and point out all the other people �"me�" who appreciate her and find her to be a rather incredible young lady. She is stubborn and insecure herself, seemingly refusing to allow herself to cheer up.  I turn the topic of conversation away from the reasons why she called. I start asking her simple questions about her room, about her favorite things, questions that I already know the answers to. These questions make way to one of our long, pointless, quirky conversations that I love to have with her.  Soon enough the angst has left her voice as it softens, lost in the conversation.  The joy I feel of hearing her laugh, so soon after hearing her cry is overwhelming.

              There was also the first date.  Both of us sitting across from each other at a restaurant that neither of us particularly enjoys, eating food we don’t care too much for.  There is something much more intriguing looking back at me above my food.  The awkward, forced conversation that was probably also the greatest conversation I have ever been a part of because I just enjoy the fact I am with her, talking to her, and she is talking back, knowing that this is actually happening and that is all that matters to me, all of my other cares and worries disappear for that magical hour.  This is one of the few times that I felt a sense of confidence.  She was just as timid as I was, although I would claim she has no right to lack confidence or assertiveness. I adore the way she shyly looks down to smile and giggle, which I later find out is because she is self-conscious of her teeth.  Her white, straight, perfect teeth.

               I reflect on how it was a learning process along the way, finding out about her flaws as she finds out about mine, which cause some arguments yet we always persevere and work through the discoveries of each other no matter how difficult they are to understand. A lot of the times a simple misunderstanding can turn into a large problem.  Both of us at times were guilty of hiding something from the other that, if addressed upfront was not a big deal, but naturally only comes to light at the worst possible moment and just adds to the dilemma. We were able to work through all of that. We have a mutual devotion to accept each other’s deficiencies, but I don’t consider hers to be deficiencies. They make her seem that much more perfect.  Knowing that she is imperfect makes her perfect to me.

              Then I shift to my favorite memory. It was not a special occasion.  Not a landmark in the relationship, not a special date such as an anniversary or anything.  It is just a rainy weekend night.  We are cuddling on my couch.  She is curled up in a ball, and how perfectly that ball fits in my arms. I cannot remember what movie I was trying to force her to watch, but that isn’t important.  Having the feeling that we don’t have to be talking to be enjoying each other’s company is one of the most coveted feelings to me.  All I needed was to feel how perfect everything was with us together in that moment.  Halfway through the movie I stressed to her she had to see, she falls asleep in my arms.  I stay awake to finish watching the movie, but then I realize that I am not paying attention to the movie. I realize that I am holding her, too scared that moving would wake her.  I can’t fall asleep sitting up, I tell myself, but her presence brings a certain serenity within me and I decide I want to stay like this even if it means I don’t get any sleep.  I carefully reach for the remote and turn the TV off.

               Reality abruptly rears its ugly head and shoves me back into the moment.  I couldn’t have been thinking for that long; she’s still standing right there, as imposing as ever.  As adorable, radiant, sweet, and inviting as ever. 

              “So… do you know where the library is or not?” she asks with a painful tinge of confusion.

              I now notice the skyscrapers towering over me and the busy city traffic surrounding me.

             How long have we been standing here?  Why didn’t she say anything about me zoning out?  Could I have really thought of all that in only a few seconds, similar to my life flashing before my eyes, but instead of life it’s love?

              As I fumble for words to say, I now realize that I have been longing to speak for mere moments instead of months or years. Panic races through me. I am drastically unprepared for this moment.  The nerves that left during my spell of reminiscing, if you can call it that, return tenfold.  It is the moment of truth. A reluctant sadness creeps over me. I want to return to my thoughts, those beautiful memories, in order to get away from this harsh, unforgiving reality staring back at me.  I clear my throat and open my mouth to say the first words that I will ever speak to her.