So, there was this guy, big, burly biceps, a smile that would kill, a swagger that would drive girls crazy and an attitude that made him the best thing that ever happened to our tiny little school. My friends told me that there was a rumor running around that, he, that man's man had a crush on me. I couldn't believe it. I told people I didn't believe it. Although the only thing I could have hoped for was that it was true. Then one day, as I got off my tiny little school bus, he came over to me, smiled and said, 'Hey'. I was overwhelmed. Engulfed with birds, and trees, and music, and hearts, and all things pretty. I felt like, well, any 15 year old girl, with two pigtails, and an American Tourister bag with a powerpuff girl sticker would feel. Soon enough he asked me out. Told me everyday how lucky I was to be with him. Not in those many words. But in every little thing he did, and every way that he looked at me, that's all he said. But who am I kidding? He was right. I was lucky to be with him. Things he taught me, no one else would or could.
There was a dark side to him that was hypnotic. You wanted to get out of the slow, miserable, state, but you just couldn't. I was stuck in a limbo for a long time. Too long. So long that I needed a bolt of lightening to hit me before I could wake up, pick up my stuff and leave.
After having cursed my friends, my family, me, and having physically hurt some people I cared immensely about, I decided to leave. I met him on a pleasent winter evening and tried to be as polite about it as I could. But how politely can one break someone's heart? As I told him what was on my mind, and why it was best we went our seperate ways, he picked up his hand, gathered all the strength required and more in his big, burly biceps, and hit me across my face. Then as I lay on the ground he looked at me with that beautiful smile that killed, plastered across his face, and walked right away. I would be very stupid if I told you that I didn't see this coming, that I didn't see all the signs. Well, grandma, like all other 15 year olds was very very stupid. But if there is one thing I learnt from this, is, to learn how to throw a decent punch, and to duck in time.
Then I met this boy, beautiful like the sun. Always smiling, always looking at the world, with the 'glass half full' attitude. I met him at a time in my life when I was what you young kids call yourselves for no good reason; a cynic. I didn't believe in goodness, or in love. I thought all men become woman beating, self-indulgent, asses at some point in their lives. This guy reinstated my faith in the inherrent niceness that some people have in them. He always held open doors for me, let me walk in first, he even offered to always pay for dinners, but darling no self respecting woman should ever let that happen. Never let a man believe that that's all it takes to make a woman happy, pay her bills. It wasn't true then, and it shouldn't be true now.But the best trait was that he was never shy to say sorry first. We had a good run, me and him, laughing a lot, depending on each other, going out on picnics. The good times were the best. We would talk about everything. We knew how we would get married, where we would live, what car we would buy, what our kids names will be, what our pets names were going to be. It was perfect, only until it wasn't. Soon I began to feel uncomfortable around myself. I felt like I was pretending to be happy living a life where everything was decided. I wasn't ready to be that person who knows everything about her life even before it takes place. Just slowly wait for things to happen, and smile, or not, when they do. So, I told him, in the best way I knew how. He fell to the ground. Like I just took his life. Well, maybe I did. But then he took mine. Repeatedly. I decided to go against all norms and stick by him while he struggled to stand up. When he finally stood up, he began with blatantly making out with a girl who I call my life, flirted with a friend I grew up with, and held hands with a girl who had depended on me on many occasions, all in my presence. I took the advice of a stranger, which as you will learn in life yourself, is the best, most sound advice you will ever get. I cut him out of my life. The funniest part is that he was still the first to say sorry, after every single time that he actively caused me pain. And instead of counting the number of mistakes, I focussed on the order of the apologies. Well, anyway, from this guy I learnt two very important things. One, the value of an apology is lost when you find yourself apologizing all the time, to the same person. And, two, is the most important one, so write it down, hell I say print it on the cigarette packs, ' You will never end up with the person you call your first love.'
I moved on eventually. Like we all do. And I met a wonderful man. A man who loved the idea of being in love, and the madness that came along with it. He loved the good and the bad, and the ugly, as long as he had someone to love. He was such a great story teller. When he narrated an incident from a time in his life which I was not a part of, he would really focus on the little details. Like the color of the clothes, or what season it was, did anything consequential happen in the year of that particular incident. It was always fun listening to him. He was so good with jokes that he made me laugh. He was so good with words that he made me cry. He was the new joy of my life, but he wanted things from me that I couldn't possibly give him. It's true that all he asked for is love, and more love. But there's a thing about more love; I read it in a book I think, or saw it in a movie, I'm too old to remember the exact details, but the line has remained with me since then. 'When your heart breaks, sometimes it grows back crooked.' He wanted every ounce of my heart, but he couldn't see how it was twisted up into a mess. Unable to beat, unable to care, unable for more love than it knew in it's own twisted way. All I asked him for was time so I could learn to care and trust again. But he knew nothing but to love. It wasn't until much later that I taught myself the art of trusting, but one thing I learnt immediately from this is that only love will not keep you alive.
It was a long, long, long time until I met someone else. For the first time in my life I was making an effort to understand myself. I packed my bags, and took my mind to the quietest place in the world. I surrounded it with silence and music, and let it scream, shout, yell, throw tantrums, and just let it be. I owed it to my mind. All those years of over thinking, rationalizing, and logic. It deserved a holiday. I could now keep up with myself. If happiness is what everyone is looking for, why not look for it one day at a time? My mind wasn't screaming any more. It was ready to turn a new leaf, and so was I. When I met this next man, we were two strangers, in a room full of more strangers, who smiled politely at each other. Except this man. He wasn't impolite, he was just shy. So shy that when I saw him looking at me, he turned away in fear. He denies that he was afraid, but I know what scares him. He didn't come up to me and say hello, and when I spoke to him for the first time, he stammered. My friends still laugh about that. He wasn't the most expressive man on earth, he didn't know which actions are chivalrous and which are not, he wasn't always funny, but he was an honest man, with a beautiful heart. He took beautiful pictures, of people. Never trees, or flowers, or the sky. Always people. Catching them in their benign actions, making them look beautiful. When we were together, if we found ourselves seperated by a room full of strangers, like the first time we ever met, he makes an effort to find me, catch my eye, and just smile. It's beyond perfect. He is perfect. He didn't teach me anything profound. I think that is why I love him.
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