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Archive for September, 2012

I am an adult. The time when you are awkwardly squirming to see if you can get your knee to brush against someone has long passed. A good 15 years passed. That’s why it was so odd that I found someone recently trying to do that to me. And they were even older than I was – farther from their teenhood. Farther from years where it may have been an acceptable means of displaying sexual tension. At first I was kind of grossed out by this awkward display of teen-like affection.

But as I was walking home alone, I had to appreciate it for the memories it brought up. When you are a teenager, these moments are thrilling. Even if you aren’t into the person, there is a least a story to tell your friends. “omigod they were totally trying to touch me when they passed me in the bleachers!”

You were one of the best examples of this awkward inches-from-each-other-really-wanting-to-touch-each-other thing.

I have a heart around your picture in my 8th grade yearbook. You were the grade below me, but you probably stayed back, so I bet you were older. You were super skinny and really really tall. I was short so it probably was amplified by my shortness, but you seemed like a total beanpole. You would pass in the hallway and my friend and I would whisper to each other “so cute!”

You had a blonde bowl haircut. That described everyone in my town though, so it didn’t make you stand out. I just still picture you like that now. An adult with a 7th grader in the 90’s haircut.

Somehow I took you to my semi formal. I actually don’t know how I arranged that.

I was thrilled to be dancing with you. Holding you close. Hoping my hair was in place. Hoping my bobby pins weren’t poking your chest. Hoping I smelled good to you. Hoping my dress was short enough, but not too short.

After the dance we “watched a movie” at my best friend’s house. That basically means you put a movie on and spend the next hour and forty five minutes trying to discern what every millisecond of movement means. Trying to inch closer with an exhale? Trying to move away with a stretch?

I don’t think we took it anywhere from there but even that one evening of crazy tension and eventual hand-holding-under-the-blanket was exhilarating.

Even though you are kind of gross and old fashioned now, I’m glad that you were a young crush. Back when innocence made a simple brush of flesh more thrilling than anything you can imagine now. Back when it wasn’t some odd creepy thing an older man does when your skirt is too short for them to contain themselves.

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The first time we made out you made me so late for a show. I was meeting up with some of my favorite people and yet I couldn’t make myself leave your house.

I had to go all the way home and change my pants. I don’t usually get quite that wet making out with people. As if you made me a teenager again for a moment. No more grey jeans around you.

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I contacted you hoping to get finality that I did not get years ago. I was insecure and thought you deserved better back then. It felt unfair because I wanted you so much. Yet I miscommunicated, sabotaged it and we never talked again. I apologized. Surprisingly, you tell me you regret mistreating me. Should I have known that’s what you were doing? Did I put you off with my contact? Ugh. It feels like it just happened yesterday, you chased me but then you cooled off. I gave you an out and you took it. In that brief moment, it broke my heart so much that I ran in to someone else’s arms to cope. Did I mean anything to you? I was excited about you and didn’t think I’d ever feel that way again. Truth is I’ve never felt that way about anyone, the way that I felt about you. Despite your saying that I deserved a gentleman, you did something to me that no one else has. I hate that I did not fight harder for you or fight to tell you that. I had reasons, but those reasons are inconsequential knowing that I still feel this way about you now. It was only a moment but I adored you X, more than you know, more than I could express. Are you open to receiving this? Do you want to know?

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For a while, I’ve started to talk to God or universe (whatever…), and as a part of that, I made a detailed wish about what kind of man I want. Then, on a happy-go-lucky drunken Friday night, out of the blue, you came – for a 10-day holiday to my country. We spent like 1 week of that together. To me, you are perfect. But God/Universe tell me now, why from 900 km?!

P.S.: That Friday night, I went out with the intention of picking a blue-eyed guy. At least, now I know that my will can create. It was totally worth it…

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When I was tiny I watched movies that were somehow deemed “appropriate” but still often confused me with their adult subtexts.

One of my favorites was Footloose, of course. And when Sarah Jessica Parker tells Ariel “He’s from out of town and don’t tell me that doesn’t curl your toes because I know it does,” I really actually had no idea.

Maybe smarter kids knew what “curl your toes” meant – but I didn’t until I was old enough to engage in toe curling activities.

But even knowing, I feel like you redefine it. You actually literally make my toes curl. I can’t quite handle all of the things you make me feel.

I know the circumstances heighten the feelings, but my whole body goes to another place when you touch me.

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I had another dream with you.

First I was on a hill in the dirt and I was being dragged down the hill by a baby carriage that I was trying to hold onto and not let go of, because I didn’t want the baby to get hurt. But it was dragging and dragging me down the hill, and I was running to hold on and dust and rocks and twigs were everywhere. When we got the bottom of the hill, my mom was the one in the stroller.

Then I realized I was sort of running from something.

I ran to your house and you and your dad were inside the kitchen. I told you I was in a rush, and there was this man in your house. I didn’t trust him and he made me feel really uncomfortable so I asked you to ask him to leave. You wouldn’t help me and told me that I shouldn’t have a problem with this guy and you and your dad were both jeering me for being nervous about him. But I knew he was a bad man who was going to do something bad and neither of you would help me and you both also thought I was stupid and you were laughing at my fears, so I ran and ran away and I couldn’t believe you were letting the stranger stay over me.

I don’t actually think that you were protecting him and not me.

But I did trust you.

I would run to you.

And all I ever wanted in the world was for you to protect me.

I know you can’t or won’t, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay.

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I hated you.

Like, really hated you. Had strong feelings of detesting you and everything you were about.

We lived together. We worked together. Your hair bothered me. Your voice bothered me. Your approach to the job bothered me. The food you ate bothered me. We drunkenly had sex on the couch. I hated myself for it and hated you for it. I lied to everyone and told them it didn’t happen. I wish that was the truth. But when I really think about it, I don’t feel that remorseful. It’s kind of good because it gives me more justification for hating you even more.

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