Have you ever been so interested in someone, or something – whether it’s thinly cooked french fries from Chez Maman or that sexy librarian at school – that it began to occupy every little space in your brain? Well basically, I’m having that right now.
I look at a box of blueberries – I think of “the white girl”. I flip open my math book – I think of the white girl. I visit my friend that works at GAP, walk over to the Women’s section and see the sportswear – I think of the white girl. (BTW, I really need a better name other than “The White Girl”. Perhaps I’ll call her Betty.)
So anyways, Betty is on my fucking mind. I don’t get it! It’s not like she did much. There are no memories of making out in the parking lot or late night quickies. She’s a girl in my class. That’s it. Sure, we’ve danced around the flirting pole many times but I still can’t understand why I… why I…(fuck..)…why I like her.
There, It’s been said, I like her. I like her the same way that a 5 year old school boy likes his red headed classmate: I just do. What’s even more interesting is the fact that I’m kinda bothered by it. This near mental leprosy is spreading from my head and into my lower organ (my heart, you sick sick bastard!)
So I woke up today, feeling very chipper, and decided to tease out just why do I like this girl, and why is it bothering me so much?
For starters, I think this girl is vaguely similar to a Fererro Rocher. On the outside, people enjoy her playful attitude and nutty humor. But it is I who understands that the true meaning of her existence lies beyond that crunchy outer wall. Inside, there’s something better. A person a lot softer, a lot sweeter, and a whole lot more satisfying than what people perceive her to be.
First off, I’d like to say fuck you in advance because right now I’m gonna say something pretty damn corny: I can feel her inner beauty. There’s something about her that I can sense and to some extent, understand. She’s like this warrior with paint smeared all over her battle-cry face – all of which is hiding a very sweet and beautiful girl. I like that.
In essence, I guess you can say that I like her because that inner personality, the one hiding behind the thorns, is one that I would love to get to know.
So then why, after all of this, am I bothered by it? I seem to be annoyed at the fact that I like this girl so much. And to be honest, I think I know why: I’m a guy who knows so much about himself that I can meet a girl for 30 minutes and I’ll know whether or not she’s right for me. In turn, this has lead me to many occasions where I’ve completely dumped a girl before we even went out on a first date. It’s bad, I know.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve turned down girls because “they weren’t my type”. Girls who were gorgeous, girls who were incredibly smart and driven, and girls who any man would be happy to marry and spend the rest of their lives with. But girls who weren’t right for me. It’s a tragic way to run things and the worst part is that I’ve never really had the opportunity to date them and go through that “lets get to know each other” phase because quite frankly, I was so sure that I already knew them.
My emotional skin has been calloused to the bone from years of upset and unfortunate misunderstandings. Any woman who comes across me must be ready with a golden arrow because nothing can impress or pierce through this armor – I’ve seen it all. But for Betty… she did it. She went all Troy on me, jumped up and stabbed me right in the jugular.
I guess that’s why it bothers me. It bothers me that she did get to me. And for what? What did she even do to get to me? I don’t get it. Or maybe I do. Maybe I do understand and I could easily solve this problem and brush her off my chest and move on with my life. Yet I won’t. I think for once, I’ll allow myself for things to pan out as nature has intended. I’ll give her this window of opportunity and let someone peek in.