Falling

Someone- though I certainly have no idea who- once said, "Love is giving someone the power to destroy you, but trusting them not to."

I've never given someone in whom I was romantically interested that level of trust. If things didn't work out, I didn't want to be left with a broken heart. And, invariably, things wouldn't work out (generally with me being the one to end things).

So when I got past that one-month mark in my current relationship without having qualms about the relationship or contemplating dumping him or anything of the sort, it struck something in me. For about a week, I distanced myself from the world while I considered the situation. I wasn't finding myself fantasizing about future relationships, I didn't find everything he did irritating, none of that.

I'd previously come to the conclusion that because my biological dad and my mother separated when I was two (and I haven't seen him face-to-face since), and then my mother and the man who raised me separated when I was thirteen, and then later my mother and her fiance broke things off, I have a bit of a commitment issue. I'm always looking forward, at the end, at what is going to wrong and fuck things up to permanently end the relationship. Because with every other guy, I'd caught myself doing that (if I hadn't already lost interest).

But with this guy... instead of picturing us fighting when it's time to go off to college, I picture us discussing things, and going to colleges near each other. He acts like we're going to be together forever- get married, have kids, the whole spiel- and it doesn't bother me like it always did with everyone else.

My "Perfect" Guy

I swear, this should be the last guy-central post for a while, my darlings. The one I posted about last night? Yeah, I've been thinking about it, and no. See, that's what does me in: thinking. Anyways.

To entertain myself, I've been taking these quizzes to see what my perfect guy would be like. Of course, most of them require you to have a certain amount of knowledge about him anyways in order to answer the questions. Based on the questions and my answers, he's a vague idea of my "perfect" guy. (Random aside: it's weird to think that my future husband- or husbands, if I'm anything like my mother, hehe- is out there somewhere. God knows what he's going through.)

He's definitely good with words. Witty is a good word to describe him. He's funny, for sure. Not into slapstick, much more into smart and clever humor. And sex jokes. He's not the best kisser in the world, but it's enough to make me feel alive. He's tall enough for me to at least rest my chin on his shoulder comfortably while dancing. His friends are fairly geeky, but I like them and they like me. He wouldn't abandon them to spend all his time with me; the very idea of that is sort of offensive to him, really. He's probably good at math. Sexual enough that when I make an innuendo he'll be able to shoot one right back at me, but not so overtly sexual that it's uncomfortable. Definitely someone with whom I could talk about more spiritual things. He's open-minded enough not to mind my antics, but grounded enough to know when to pull me back into the real world. One of those guys that always seems to have reading material on him, whether it's a book, a magazine, or a news article he pulled up on his phone. He can definitely make it through an issue of Wired! A bit of a ponderer, a bit of a wanderer.

That's all I care to type up or think about for now. *le yawn* So much for "vague idea," eh?

Little Moments

Over the second semester of last year, there were... moments. Moments where I caught myself feeling way beyond what I probably should have. I don't even know this guy's favorite color. I have no idea what kind of music he listens to. But are those arbitrary things? Do they matter? I think they do, but I have no idea. I've known (well, known of, certainly) this guy since the seventh grade. We never really spoke a ton, even though we've had every math class together from the seventh grade forward. That changed last semester, though.

We were all hanging out in the science classroom before class. For whatever reason, I brought it upon myself to make fun of him (we're talking about the President here, the same guy I've been rambling about the last few posts). When the teacher said we were going to draw random seats, I said something along the lines of, "God forbid I get stuck sitting next to you," to the President. So, of course, I ended up sitting next to him for the first half of the semester.

I had the sniffles something awful, so I was rather noisy that first week of the semester. At some point, the President said, "Well, that's attractive," and all of a sudden something in my head clicked and I thought, "Oh, no!" a la Mike Birbiglia. I thought it would go away, but of course it didn't. By Valentine's Day, I was dating someone else, and when he asked if he could be my Valentine, I said no in a more snippy manner than intended. He just said, "Oh."

Before then, we'd joked all the time about how clearly I was desperately in love with him, and at some point he'd tripped up making a joke about babies and had somehow managed to imply that I was going to have his babies. (I'm laughing just remembering it- at first he stuttered, trying to fix it, but then he just went along with it, which was even funnier.)

After that, it was weird for a week or two. Eventually we got back to normal, though we didn't joke about being in love with each other as much. I go back and forth between thinking that it's because he realized I liked him and didn't want to egg me on and that it's because he realized he liked me and didn't want to accidentally seem too obvious.

One time in the library, we were sitting talking at one of the tables- our math teacher was off doing something or other and had sent our class to the library for a few days- and we were talking about all the books in my bag. I said something about how they weren't going to fit in my purse, and I believe I started pulling things out of my purse and stacking them rather precariously. Of course, my calculator (a lovely bulky TI-84 Plus, my little baby) fell, and he caught it against my leg. Either he held it there for a second too long, or my mind stopped time for a moment. The latter is incredibly likely.

And then there's the time we did a science experiment involving burning metal solutions to determine which metals burned which color flames. The teacher, being an advocate for general safety and not catching on fire in the classroom, warned us all to pull back long hair and long sleeves. I pulled my hair- which I'd been wearing down regularly (without putting any effort into it) since it was cold as fuck- up into a bun while the President pulled his sweatshirt off. Which, by the way, he looked very good in, but even better out of. He can really pull off a t-shirt and jeans. Anyways, he looked at me and said, "You look... different with your hair up." I don't remember what I did, but I probably shrugged or some such. When my dear friend... hmm, what shall I call her? Oh, I know, Luna! When my dear friend Luna came over, she (as usual) told me I was looking exceptionally sexy. So, of course, I said in a very clearly-joking arrogant voice, "Yeah, [the President] here thinks so, too." And Luna and I laughed. But I thought- I could have sworn- I heard him say something along the lines of, "That was the message I was trying to get across," or "That was the general point." It was a while ago, so I don't remember the exact phrase, but it was something like that. But I think I imagined it.

To quote the great Brad Paisley, "Yeah, I live for little moments like that."

Level Up!

The nerdy guy I've been pining for the last few posts? Yeah, he asked me out. It was kind of adorable, really. We do this thing- it's sort of like a game- where when the conversation begins to wane, we'll ask each other questions. The questions asked range from "Favorite ice cream flavor?" to "Koopa Troopa or Diddy Kong?" to "If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?" to "Which do you value more, intelligence or sense of humor?"

We'd had a bit of an, er, "exchange" earlier in which he called me pretty, so one of the questions I asked was, "Do you actually think I'm pretty?" He answered yes. My next few questions were fairly arbitrary. I told him it was his turn to ask questions. His first question was one he'd already asked in the past (ice cream flavor).

Then, he asked what I would say if he were to ask me out on a date (hypothetically speaking). I told him I'd say yes, "hypothetically speaking," of course. Then he asked me out (realistically speaking, that time). And I said yes.

And then we spoke of flan.

The Origin of My Decision to Give Up Relationships for Lent: A Poem

You say that you love me
Then you push me away
It's a gamble, so random
Your emotions that day

Why are people so crazy?
Why can't love be true?
All I want is some loving
Some loving from you

You used to give freely
Now it's from push and tug
Your obsession, your interest
You won't call it "Love."