Honestly I was nothing like his other girls.
They talked perfectly, perfect English intonation and shit, I was always tempted to shut up around them. They were beautiful; shapely bodies, long legs, pert butts and angelic faces, perfect head turners that didn’t need so much to stand out. They had grown up in the same circles, gone to the same schools, everyone knew everyone. I stuck out like a sore thumb every time I was around him, I knew I couldn’t compete.
I took it gracefully accepted defeat even before the war began. I could be his friend that way I could handle shit better. I wouldn’t worry about being rejected or fitting in or falling for him. I could fall for him in peace, salivate from a distance. Watch him every day, enjoy him walking with all that grace greeting people and smiling at her. Why couldn’t he smile at me like that! Maybe he did but I couldn’t notice.
Falling for him was the easy part, dealing with it however was another thing altogether. Girls like me are easy very easy. We fall for the first guy who is remotely nice to us. I blame all the daddy issues and lack of approval. We are used to being rejected and tossed around. We have been made to feel like expenses or trash to be fair.
That said, when a guy pretending or not has even a shred of niceness, we fall and fall hard, akin to a fat pig down a slope. He was amazing!! It is the way he talked to me like I actually existed and we were equals. He valued my opinions and the noted the words I said. He paid attention to the things I pointed out. My heart! My poor romantic naive heart started enjoying the attention a little more than I would have liked. He walked into the room and I almost passed out because it was beating so fast or it skipped beats. If I made sense or we came to the same conclusion he smiled and I thought I had heart arrhythmia.
That damning smile of his, I was a slave from the first day he directed it my way. My world stopped for a second or two. I think it shifted its axis a little too because at that precise moment I knew exactly where the center of the world was. At that moment the center of the world was looking at me and it was impressed that despite everything else I’m quite handy and a bit of an overachiever. He walked towards me and said something silly, I cannot remember what but I’m sure it had some sexual innuendo to it, and because I’m quite handy with those, I retorted and he laughed. That woman was right; some people have laughs that would light up this whole town. So hearty and full completely genuine filled with so much mirth, I would do anything to make sure I heard that laugh every day. I wasn’t so much a believer of magic but I did that year, every single time I saw him.
We became fast friends, him helping me out on most afternoons, I treasured those. I had a one way, express ticket straight to his schedule and I would be damned if I didn’t take it. I got to know him more a little better every day. I learnt his passions, motivations and drives. He won me over to his way of thinking and if you tell him that I’ll kill you. I understood him more, I understood me more in the process. I learnt more about myself in the process. Like if everything failed I was an excellent judge of character.
The more time we spent together the harder I tried to convince myself I could fall for him and survive. I did survive the first wave, when my heart and body were working in tandem pushing me to the one testosterone filled being who hadn’t tried to hurt me so far. I trained and coached myself not to beg at his feet, not to throw myself at him and not to ask how high when he said jump. i should add it also took 3 weeks of constant avoidance, skirting around pretending to be busy and rushing off to work in a hurry then getting to the bus and exhaling because every part of me wanted to run back to him.
Months passed, life took over, and more serious things took precedent to lingering residual feelings. I had moved past the running away stage to a stage where I was just comfortable being in his orbit. Being a receiver of one or more of those killer smiles. Being the person they called when they couldn’t locate him. Life was good up to that moment and like I always said I ain’t that lucky. Shit happens, it always does and I preferred to call him because it calmed me down and in true fashion, he led my hand shepherded me around the darkness and murky waters and by the end of that ordeal; I put him on such a high pedestal the lighthouse in Alexandria wasn’t tall enough to compete.
From that moment on every time I saw him I couldn’t miss the giant halo on his head, I knew what angels looked like.
