This was still months ago, when winter was forcing itself over us, when I met her at the market. I arrived early so I might write a while before, but the cafeteria was a sea of Saturday’s children, leaving me outside looking for a table in the chill. All of them were empty. It takes a certain type of person to escape the crowd in this weather.
Outside, there was a woman sitting closer to the waterfront. I sat at a distance and began taking out my books. I hadn’t been there a minute when she looked over her shoulder. It’s an unusual thing, strangers recognizing each other.
Jen and I happened to be taking Tae Kwon Do together when I was 14 years old. Our class was doing an exhibition at the town fair, and there being so little to do at that age, we spent the rest of the day walking up and down the aisles together, going from booth to booth. That was a great day, spending time with a girl that seemed to like me as much as I liked her. I knew how I felt must be wrong.
A while later, she stopped coming to class, and nearly ten years later, I happened to run into her at a bar. We chatted for a while nostalgically, now flirting over memories. The idea of getting together one day came up, and so I gave her my number. I fell asleep that night smiling, knowing I was right.
I had that same phone number for years after that, but it never rang from her call. And still to this day, I wonder.
Between our first kiss and our first night, there were a few days of uncertainty. She made it clear that she wasn’t ready for a relationship. I said something similar, that her name didn’t sound right when I whispered it. It wasn’t a matter of pronunciation or inflection; it was a matter of distance, and I couldn’t get any closer.
We flirted a great deal when I went to the water cooler. This was why my cup was so small, though it never explained why I went to the furthest water cooler in the office. She teased me about this from time to time during our e-mail conversations, though she teased me even more if I went to the other. Both of us were seeing other people. Continued…
Perception is an interesting thing. Before we know someone, we base our entire opinion of them on minor details we’ve accumulated. Many times there are even details that present themselves that we overlook for the simple reason that it goes against our established understanding. We don’t want to believe that this person sees things differently. Other times, we turn to presumption to enforce the character that may not be accurate. And once again, when things begin to seem otherwise, we ignore it because we do not want to be mistaken. So perception is nearly entirely subjective, and misconception is in this way objective. The only proper way to understand someone with an important degree of accuracy is awareness over time.
I’d never heard of this before she mentioned it a month ago. The idea as a whole, of course, but never in such a succinct and obvious way. Allow me.
In a romantic relationship of whatever nature, people act differently, speak differently, and relate differently. At times, these things may fall into a familiar persona that we revert to when we enter a new relationship. It may be because we see traits in them that we liked about someone else or because we see the possibility of those things. When this happens, as she put it, “we wake up one morning and put on our hat.”
I can see exactly how I’ve done this in past relationships, and I see exactly why I will never do this again. It is a terrible discourtesy; an indifference to honesty.
Near as I’ve noticed, I can’t figure out a morning routine that will comfortably get me on the bus when my mind is still set on sleeping. The #84 is estimated to arrive at 6:51. I’ve missed it on days when I’ve arrived at 6:50, 6:49. 6:45, and even 6:41. Today, I left the house at 6:43, and after the usual – (a little unusual, since the city is full of snow, slush, and water) – walk, I caught the bus at 6:55. There’s a whole lot of waiting to do in life, and those impatient types are worse-off than the rest. Continued…
Prose, posted on November 13, 2008 at 12h04
tags used: relationships
All these text messages I’ve saved from so many months ago. I kept them, and read them over and over, any time I needed to smile. It always worked. Except now there’s a weight in them that I can’t manage to carry on my shoulders. Now they seem to be just letters and words that accidentally found their way together. That accidentally found their way to me.
It seems I’ve found the silliest things to comfort myself in the last little while. I look to the future now, walking towards my shadow, with the brightest light I’ve known behind me. For better or for worse, it no longer blinds me.
Prose, posted on July 14, 2008 at 07h01
tags used: relationships
Never in my life has saying goodbye been so difficult to do than now, when I’ve had to repeat it, over and over, but couldn’t bare to say the actual words. I feel helpless against the adversity of circumstance. I hold her with arms that are too weak to hold myself up alone, or the torrent of emotion back. Saying goodbye is a wretched thing to do; it means that the next time I see her, I will be happier than the last time, but it will be even more painful to leave. I couldn’t imagine dying being any harder than this.
Prose, posted on June 15, 2008 at 10h06
tags used: relationships
I think I feel something.
