So there's this guy.
I'm laughing even as I write this, because there's always a guy, right? (Or a girl - whatever.) I'd like to say this one is different, but I'm not entirely sure that it is. It might just be a random crush that'll go away like hundreds of others have. Unlikely, but possible. Time will tell, I guess.
But in any case, RIGHT NOW, there's this guy. We're going to call him the SBD*, because I don't feel like sharing his name with any of you. At other times I refer to him as Apollo, but for now we'll call him the SBD. And he's...different. Beautiful. Not quite like anyone else in my life. I've known him for a long time (although not closely), and I still don't have the right words to describe him.
He's not my boyfriend. I need to make that clear right out. He's not even a friend, really - we don't talk on the phone, or email each other, or hang out. But he's there.
Shit. I can't even find the words now. I have a sort of knack for writing, or so I'm told, and generally I can give my views on any subject and sound coherent, even interesting, as long as I do enough research to gain some basic knowledge of the topic. But I can't seem to write about him, even though he's such an ever-present part of my life.
Even when he's not actually there, he's THERE, in my head, in my dreams, in my daydreams, smiling at me and guiding me through life.
Yes, I know I'm romanticizing him. I don't seem to be able to help it. My mind tells me, be logical. Try to look at him unemotionally, and then you'll work out what the attraction is. But even looking at him logically, I feel like there must be something there, some kind of bond. Because yes, I get taken in by pretty faces sometimes, but not for this long. If I still dream about him after all this time, still feel like he's bonded to me in some intangible way, then there must be SOMETHING other than good looks. After all, I see a lot of attractive guys, day to day, and I don't feel this...attached, for lack of a better word.
And I do dream about him. Not constantly, but certainly a couple times a month, maybe more. I can feel him dreaming about me, too, although I don't know if he dreams the same things that I dream.
Oh - he's psychic, did I mention that?
And beautiful. So incredibly beautiful.
He's here when I cook - "I wonder if the SBD likes chicken stir-fry?" He's there when I shop - "I bet the SBD would like this dress, he likes it when I wear gold." He's there when I'm swimming - "The SBD has eyes just the colour of the swimming pool." Or when I'm at the gym - "Hey, that guy has arms like the SBD's, although maybe not as nice..."
I dreamed of him the other night. It was a weird dream, one of those surreal ones where nothing is quite what it seems to be, and nothing ever stays the same for long. I was walking through town. Not quite my town as it is when I'm awake, but my town as it would be if we lived in a climate where summers came more than three weeks a year and the ocean were right there: warm evenings and restaurants with outdoor seating and candles everywhere, and me in a pretty sundress, white and hot pink with a delicate floral pattern. White heels and that white silk shawl that Mom bought me. So I'm walking alone through the center of town, no real plans, nobody by my side, but I'm not unhappy, I'm enjoying the evening breeze and the freedom to do whatever I want. Maybe I'll stop in a bar and get a drink, or maybe I'll get something to eat, or maybe I'll go home and take a shower and watch South Park in my pajamas. I don't often get days when I'm feeling well and I don't have any major plans; most of my days fall into one of two categories - either I'm not well enough to get much done, and I sleep a lot and mooch around the house feeling sorry for myself, or I'm well and have things to do, like work or grocery shopping or general chores or cleaning or a catch-up workout at the gym. Either way, I don't get many days - or evenings - to wander around and chat to people and do whatever I please, and I relish them. I'm relishing this one, and I wander through the high street, looking unusually (for me) pretty, and mildly flirting with a couple of guys - nothing heavy, just smiles and eye contact and the occasional compliment - and chatting to people I vaguely know, and then I walk past one restaurant that has a terrace with tables facing the street, and there he is.
He looks slightly different, darker skin and hair than usual (or maybe that's just the candlelight and shadows), but it's unmistakably him. His eyes wander over me, starting at the white shoes that make my ankles look slender, moving up past the legs that are toned and tanned and smooth - and happily, because this is my dream, free of mosquito bites and scars - then up over the dress and shawl and onto my face. Our eyes meet, identical blues, two pairs of twin gas-flames, and I can see the moment when he realizes this is ME, not just another pretty girl, and this shot of awareness pierces me, and within half a second the lightning has spread right through me into every corner of my body, and I feel like every part of me is laid bare to his gaze, and I'm being seen, truly seen, for the first time in what seems like forever.
It's not a long dream, only a few minutes at most. It's not particularly erotic, and it shouldn't be exciting, but it is. And I wake up with a feeling of total anticipation and yet total peace, two things that shouldn't be able to exist simultaneously, but somehow do. And I feel secure. I feel like I have hope for the future, and that I can cope with anything that comes my way. Because of this man, this beautiful man who's so full of contradictions, who I've never had a proper conversation with and yet feel like I know inside and out, this man who has been part of my life for so many years and who I rarely mention to my friends, this man who may not know my name but knows all the things that he needs to know about me, this man who plays Ranger to my Steph, Eric to my Sookie, this man I shouldn't love but probably do, and probably always will. Because sometimes the ties that bind us are as inexplicable as they are unbreakable.
* Most of you are probably assuming that SBD is an acronym for something dirty. It's not, but it's OK if you think that.
I'm laughing even as I write this, because there's always a guy, right? (Or a girl - whatever.) I'd like to say this one is different, but I'm not entirely sure that it is. It might just be a random crush that'll go away like hundreds of others have. Unlikely, but possible. Time will tell, I guess.
But in any case, RIGHT NOW, there's this guy. We're going to call him the SBD*, because I don't feel like sharing his name with any of you. At other times I refer to him as Apollo, but for now we'll call him the SBD. And he's...different. Beautiful. Not quite like anyone else in my life. I've known him for a long time (although not closely), and I still don't have the right words to describe him.
He's not my boyfriend. I need to make that clear right out. He's not even a friend, really - we don't talk on the phone, or email each other, or hang out. But he's there.
Shit. I can't even find the words now. I have a sort of knack for writing, or so I'm told, and generally I can give my views on any subject and sound coherent, even interesting, as long as I do enough research to gain some basic knowledge of the topic. But I can't seem to write about him, even though he's such an ever-present part of my life.
Even when he's not actually there, he's THERE, in my head, in my dreams, in my daydreams, smiling at me and guiding me through life.
Yes, I know I'm romanticizing him. I don't seem to be able to help it. My mind tells me, be logical. Try to look at him unemotionally, and then you'll work out what the attraction is. But even looking at him logically, I feel like there must be something there, some kind of bond. Because yes, I get taken in by pretty faces sometimes, but not for this long. If I still dream about him after all this time, still feel like he's bonded to me in some intangible way, then there must be SOMETHING other than good looks. After all, I see a lot of attractive guys, day to day, and I don't feel this...attached, for lack of a better word.
And I do dream about him. Not constantly, but certainly a couple times a month, maybe more. I can feel him dreaming about me, too, although I don't know if he dreams the same things that I dream.
Oh - he's psychic, did I mention that?
And beautiful. So incredibly beautiful.
He's here when I cook - "I wonder if the SBD likes chicken stir-fry?" He's there when I shop - "I bet the SBD would like this dress, he likes it when I wear gold." He's there when I'm swimming - "The SBD has eyes just the colour of the swimming pool." Or when I'm at the gym - "Hey, that guy has arms like the SBD's, although maybe not as nice..."
I dreamed of him the other night. It was a weird dream, one of those surreal ones where nothing is quite what it seems to be, and nothing ever stays the same for long. I was walking through town. Not quite my town as it is when I'm awake, but my town as it would be if we lived in a climate where summers came more than three weeks a year and the ocean were right there: warm evenings and restaurants with outdoor seating and candles everywhere, and me in a pretty sundress, white and hot pink with a delicate floral pattern. White heels and that white silk shawl that Mom bought me. So I'm walking alone through the center of town, no real plans, nobody by my side, but I'm not unhappy, I'm enjoying the evening breeze and the freedom to do whatever I want. Maybe I'll stop in a bar and get a drink, or maybe I'll get something to eat, or maybe I'll go home and take a shower and watch South Park in my pajamas. I don't often get days when I'm feeling well and I don't have any major plans; most of my days fall into one of two categories - either I'm not well enough to get much done, and I sleep a lot and mooch around the house feeling sorry for myself, or I'm well and have things to do, like work or grocery shopping or general chores or cleaning or a catch-up workout at the gym. Either way, I don't get many days - or evenings - to wander around and chat to people and do whatever I please, and I relish them. I'm relishing this one, and I wander through the high street, looking unusually (for me) pretty, and mildly flirting with a couple of guys - nothing heavy, just smiles and eye contact and the occasional compliment - and chatting to people I vaguely know, and then I walk past one restaurant that has a terrace with tables facing the street, and there he is.
He looks slightly different, darker skin and hair than usual (or maybe that's just the candlelight and shadows), but it's unmistakably him. His eyes wander over me, starting at the white shoes that make my ankles look slender, moving up past the legs that are toned and tanned and smooth - and happily, because this is my dream, free of mosquito bites and scars - then up over the dress and shawl and onto my face. Our eyes meet, identical blues, two pairs of twin gas-flames, and I can see the moment when he realizes this is ME, not just another pretty girl, and this shot of awareness pierces me, and within half a second the lightning has spread right through me into every corner of my body, and I feel like every part of me is laid bare to his gaze, and I'm being seen, truly seen, for the first time in what seems like forever.
It's not a long dream, only a few minutes at most. It's not particularly erotic, and it shouldn't be exciting, but it is. And I wake up with a feeling of total anticipation and yet total peace, two things that shouldn't be able to exist simultaneously, but somehow do. And I feel secure. I feel like I have hope for the future, and that I can cope with anything that comes my way. Because of this man, this beautiful man who's so full of contradictions, who I've never had a proper conversation with and yet feel like I know inside and out, this man who has been part of my life for so many years and who I rarely mention to my friends, this man who may not know my name but knows all the things that he needs to know about me, this man who plays Ranger to my Steph, Eric to my Sookie, this man I shouldn't love but probably do, and probably always will. Because sometimes the ties that bind us are as inexplicable as they are unbreakable.
* Most of you are probably assuming that SBD is an acronym for something dirty. It's not, but it's OK if you think that.
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