She and I

She likes crossword puzzles too. How crazy is that?

I can't believe, in today's age, in the era of irony, one can still like someone so earnestly. Scares the bejesus out of me.

She starts talking about "Catcher in the Rye" and I'm spellbound. She makes several good points about the book, and even though I never really liked Holden Caulfield, I find myself just nodding in agreement. I was going to bring up "A Perfect Day for Bananafish" but I was having too good a time just listening to what she had to say to interrupt.

I think I'm most scared of being regular, of being ordinary, or rather, that she finds out that I'm regular, that I'm ordinary, that I'm no different from any of all the other boys who inevitably end up falling for her. Pretty bleeding ironic, considering I've spent most of my life, really, just trying to blend in.

She liked my "Siopao na Special" story well enough. I'd made her read a revised version, much different from the one I had written earlier, although the storyline remained the same. She did find it quite sweet. She has a ton of things, to say, however, with how the story was laid out, and with the continuity of some of the elements. We discuss the story for something like a couple of hours. Who knew deconstruction could be so sexy? She makes a lot of valid observations, and I find myself in agreement with most of them, except for a couple of points where we end up having a couple of little arguments. I don't remember the arguments anymore; I was just happy she spent all that time thinking about a silly little story I wrote back when I was young and stupid.

I don't think there's a more wonderful feeling than being right about someone, especially someone you like. When a boy sees a pretty girl for the first time and she steals away a little bit of his heart, his mind couldn't help but try to paint a picture of what she'd be like, because he can't help it; he's been thinking about her constantly. So when he finally gets to know her, more often than not, he ends up a little bit disappointed because what he finds isn't quite as pretty as the picture he had drawn up in his mind. But on the rare occasion when she turns out to be every bit as smart, every bit as thoughtful, every bit as sweet, every bit as, well, spectacular, there isn't a more wonderful feeling. It's jarring, really.

She tells me about her hobby of mixing colors. She says she never really learned how to paint, or at least paint as well as her sister does, but she finds solace with the way the colors blend together, and with how she's able to express herself with the different shades she comes up with. Although I've never tried it, I understand, and make a mental note to try it one of these days.

I was living a happy enough life before she came along. After my last relationship, I firmly believed that one should live life as though it were complete regardless of whether there was someone else there to share it with you. And so, for the last three years, I've been living my life as though it were complete even though there wasn't someone else to share it with me. And I managed well enough; I'm good at buying books and buying CDs and getting into cool parties and hanging out with the right crowd that soon enough, while life wasn't exactly on fire, it wasn't quite lonely either. And then someone like her comes along, and everything falls into pieces. Everything else seems so gray in comparison. And I admit, she rocks my world. I just find myself wondering if she had done so too soon.

She says she used to write, poems and stories and whatever else she could think of in little journals that do not exist anymore. She tells me that when she read my story, she thought about how much she missed writing. I said, why not start again? She said maybe she would. Maybe she would.

I like her. I like her so earnestly it's not even cute or funny or [some other teenybopper concept]. Well, maybe it is. But I like her. The thing is, every other boy in the world seems to like her as well. I doubt if they like her half as much as I do though. I doubt they've ever heard her voice crack out of passion when explaining some concept, or hear her voice turn into a whisper when telling some childhood story, or even see how pretty her eyes look when she stares into me in silence as she listens to the words that I say.

She insisted on paying for our ice cream, because after all I had paid for the fish balls, and we get into a half-assed argument over who should pay for the couple of cones of dirty ice cream we were munching on. Of course, I cheated and gave Kuya ice cream vendor the money even before she had the chance to count hers out of her coin purse. Then a couple of street kids went over to us to beg for some change, so she decided, with the money she'd counted off, to buy the kids ice cream instead.

I know it's probably my imagination, but when we're stuck in a room with everyone else and we start talking, it's like we were the only two people there. I honestly end up wondering why she hasn't been bored by me yet, and well, maybe she has been, but she'd been too polite to say it. Liking someone, especially as earnestly as I do, tends to bring out your worst fears and insecurities.

She says the sweetest goodbyes, she really does.

I find it funny how even a silly little text message can make a whole weekend.

She likes crossword puzzles too. How crazy is that?

- posted by jaemark @ 8/01/2005 06:25:00 AM