Well, well, well. Just look at you, walking into this dreary, hole-in-the-wall bar and lighting the place up, twirling your hair pensively as you search the room–for what? For a soul mate, perhaps?
I know, I know. I hate that phrase, too. Maybe that will end up being one of our things. You know, how like some couples hate the same thing? Yeah, that could be our thing, hating that word. Maybe even a few weeks from now, lying in bed on a bright, crisp Sunday morning, I’ll ask you, “What’s your least favorite word or phrase?,” and you’ll say, “Soul mate,” and I’ll laugh until you say, “What? Tell me!” And I’ll tell you how I knew from the moment I first laid my eyes on– I see you’ve spotted the friends you came to meet. They look like nice people, I suppose.
Maybe they’ll be my friends one day, too.
Your almond-shaped eyes, so beautiful that they would make Nefertiti herself weep with envy, come to life as you notice them and, honestly, I’m smitten. I’m sold. You’ve got me, I’m yours. I can’t help but notice how elegantly you seem to glide across the room toward your friends and shriek at them, “What the hell is up, yo?,” in a voice so surprisingly piercing and annoying that the entire bar actually goes silent for a moment. I can’t help but notice the bartender checking the liquor bottles along the shelf to make sure none of them have cracked.
You continue in your bellows of every utterance, including lines ranging from, “Jäger is the bomb, dawg!,” to, “Aww snap! Weezy is my SHIT!,” to, “Random! Random! Random!” Damn, you must be a regular here.
Duration of crush: nineteen seconds
Oh my. What have we here? A cold, rainy night in the city has cleared the sidewalks of all but the most intrepid souls, and those who couldn’t brave the elements have no idea what they’re missing. Because there you are, coasting along on your bicycle. Only a few feet ahead of me, simply a snug, white shirt on you, soaked through the skin, clinging to the small of your back. You pedal so beautifully as you raise your face towards the sky, allowing the beads of rain to bless your gorgeous (I’m simply assuming you’re gorgeous; I haven’t seen you yet, silly!) face with sweet diamonds of moisture.
Do I dare try to catch up to you? I’m on foot jumbling books and my gym bag. You’ve paused at a red light and–oh, what the hell? I don’t know what I’ll say to you, but I understand that even the clumsiest of introductions, those that will see me a nervous wreck, rambling on and on about God-knows-what while on this seemingly surreal, nighttime glistening street. It is those very introductions that will provide us with a romantic how-we-met anecdote that we’ll love telling for years to come.
In retrospect, I’m probably getting a bit ahead of myself. I mean, you haven’t even noticed me yet. That’s okay, my love, because I’m on the way.
Caught you! Here I am! And there you are. Wow, I see that you’re not that beautiful after all. Kind of horrendous-looking, actually. I mean, I’m not shallow. God no, it’s just that. Wow. Um, okay then.
Duration of crush: thirty-seven seconds
So silly does my impatience now seem, stuck as I am in the Starbucks line during the morning rush. But that was before I noticed you in line ahead of me.
And now that I’ve seen you, well, what with your ethereal hair still damp from this morning’s shower, your well-moisturized calves and ankles strapped down to high heels that make you wobble and sway when you walk like a beautiful, young colt beginning to find her stride, with your beautiful scent of lavender and…is that Head & Shoulders I detect?
Anyways, you have this infectious sense of calmness and serenity about yourself as you stand there ordering. I’m dreading this moment because we will soon part without having met and so, while this might feel like eternity, you will place your order, receive your drink and walk out of this Starbucks and my life forever.
So you’ve been at the register for, like, fifteen seconds now. Seriously, you’ve been here before, right? I mean, it seems like there are a lot of choices, but most people tend to stick with a drink once they’ve found one they enjoy. And they order it quickly.
However, maybe I’ve caught you on a day when you’ve decided to make a fresh start, to try a new drink, to walk a different way to work, to finally dump that god-awful boyfriend who doesn’t appreciate you. Maybe you–Christ, you’ve ordered your drink and paid; do I really have to stand here for another forty-five seconds while you repack your purse, the contents of which you’ve spilled out on the counter like you’re setting up a goddamned yard sale or something? I think I hate you now.
Duration of crush: three minutes
Alright, here’s the deal: I was supposed to be on a date later tonight. The girl is a great girl, I suppose. I’m not sure, I haven’t really known her that long. We sync up pretty well, actually, which is surprising given my personal dating history over the course of the past year. I’d have been lying if I said I wasn’t excited about the prospect of actually dating again. It feels so weird typing, let alone doing. And, yes, absolutely there’s this weird little part of me that is so convinced that any girl who likes me, secretly or otherwise, couldn’t really be all that great a person. But the optimism in me has been running wild lately, so bear with me.
Anyways, this girl and I synced up so well that the last time we hung out it was kind of expressed, without words of course (that would’ve been too simple, right?), that it was over. I, at least, couldn’t feel the chemistry. I simply said, “I’m gonna take off,” and received a, “Yeah, okay,” in response. No fighting it, no BSing, no trying to compromise, no attempt to contact one another since. In a strange way, it’s awesome that it happened that way, isn’t it? That was more of a mature ending than most couples can claim to have accomplished.
I’ve been dealing with trying to write a concrete, deep post about relationships. The plan was that there would be this trilogy of posts dealing with dating and relationship aspects, set up kind of like this:
- Once We Believe in Ourselves, We Can Risk Curiosity, Wonder, Spontaneous Delights or Even Joining Dating Sites – the initial dating
- Things More Majestic and Miserable than You Could Ever Imagine - the actual relationship
- The Heart is a Choking Hazard – the break-up
Upon trying to start this particular endeavor, I realized this: at the time of writing, not only have I still learned absolutely nothing about women from my experiences with them, but what little tidbits of useful information I have acquired are all beginning to fade disastrously from this tiny, little Homer Simpson brain of mine.
The sad fact is, I have gotten rejected in more ways than I could have ever dreamed. I’ve gotten rejected by women who don’t like me enough and by women who’ve liked me too much. I’ve gotten rejected by women I didn’t even know I was going out with in the first place. Hell, I’ve even gotten rejected by women for not rejecting them. I think I realized all of this when recently scrolling through old junk mail and finding the following subject lines from estranged flings: “Sorry”, “Last night”, “My relationship with Mike”, “My actual relationship with Mike”, and “You bastard.” Without ever having allowed myself to date, whether it was because of rejecting or getting rejected, I’ve always seemed to be good at leaving a potentially good thing before it mattered. So how could I ever write about relationships? Give advice on it, even?
I always remember this little tidbit: Though it’s counterintuitive, basic logic dictates that any time a relationship that should and does end, it is always, by definition, a good thing. Even if it makes you feel like tearing off your own head and hurling it onto oncoming traffic.
It is also crucial to bear in mind that even after a lifetime of such learning experiences, you will never understand the first thing about women. Do not delude yourself about this. Guys who claim to know everything about women are like those who claim to understand everything about the creation of the world – interesting from a social standpoint and perspective, but still, totally full of shit.
And of course, none of the above changes in any way the larger overriding fact that women have always been, are and will eternally remain the Official Most Awesome Entities Ever Bestowed Upon Undeserving Mankind.
Maybe I’m getting a bit off-track here. At the beginning of this article, you read about a few of the things that go through my mind when I spot a new girl. Every one of those scenarios actually happened. The essence of those experiences is a universal truth: any time something feels too good to be true, it almost always is. Not to say you should always be pessimistic or guarded, but it’s important to keep a level head when you meet someone new.
And that level-headedness should seep through your being and remain intact throughout your relationship. Don’t promise eternity. Don’t promise you’ll be there no matter what, because the truth is that, realistically, you can’t.
Relationships don’t have to be stressful. People are so afraid of losing someone, of losing love, that we will do anything, sacrificing a bit of ourselves in the process, making compromises that we don’t have to make, just to hold on a little longer. And, truth be told, no matter how many times you or I read this, we will never learn.
Damn, that was actually kind of good. Level-headedness and not making compromises to attain happiness. Maybe I can write about relationships. Hell, maybe I can even be in one! Or maybe it’s all of this OxyElite and junk soda that I’m all hopped up on.