“But I know about art and love, if only because I long for it with every fiber of my being.”
- Toulouse-Lautrec, Moulin Rouge
Some nights all I can do is wonder. A lot of it comes from the simple fact that I am tired, but also is partially because I can feel the loneliness trying to knock me down again.
Solitude seems to be something I slink back into far too often lately. I’ll spend half my evening with my family only to retreat to the sanctuary of my bedroom to play songs that only make the situation more obvious.
“She’s hiding.”
“No, she said she was writing something. You know, working on one of those projects of her’s.”
“I still think she’s hiding. Something is wrong.”
“Oh, you worry too much. She needs the quiet to think.”
My bedroom door is right off the living room and it does nothing to dispel the noise coming from the TV. This is why music can often be heard blaring from my room at any one point in the day. It’s all I can do to keep myself sane and finish a thought.
Now, there’s nothing wrong with my family watching TV and hanging out in the living room. On the contrary, it’s comforting to hear them out there. It means that I’m not alone…
I am tired. All I can do is think of him. I’m so tired of thinking only about him. Sometimes the music subdues the thoughts, but usually, as it’s doing tonight, it just elevates the issue.
He’s a musician. In each song, I can hear him singing, and in each song, I am singing to him. I can make anything become a song from me to him.
We sang together once. At a camp. He had been asked to lead the songs during the nightly campfire, and I knew the songs all by heart. Our voices blend so beautifully. He has a gorgeous tenor voice that is smooth as silk, but can drop down low to make each word stick in your mind. It makes me want to melt. I know if it ever is directed at me, I won’t be able to resist it.
Did I mention he plays guitar? That he writes his own music? He does. Right now he’s waiting for the mastered cd to be completely finished. All the artwork, the copies, everything…I get one of the first copies of the cd. He seemed surprised that I would want one, and I was surprised he didn’t know that I would want one.
I hang on his every word. Tell him how much I enjoy his music, his voice, everything. What more do I need to say?
Nights like this tend to break my heart. One more night without a phone call.
I asked him if he wanted to hang out with me sometime this weekend. Alright, so I sent this invitation via email, but still…
But if he called…what would I do?
I would instantly agree to any plan he would want to make. A movie? Great. Walk around town? Wonderful. Midnight trip to Walmart? My favorite. Tap dancing on BBQ’s? Splendid, I couldn’t love anything more.
And then the panic would start.
I’ve never had much experience in the arena of dating. To me, it seems a lot like being thrown to the lions, and if, by the grace of God, you are lucky enough to find an angel…you are the lucky one.
How does it all work? How am I supposed to keep up a conversation for the entirety of a date? Do you hold hands? As the woman, am I supposed to allow him to initiate any form of affection? Or do I reach for his hand during the movie?
And how do you know if it’s a date anyway? Any more, he could just want some company because he’s bored. Do I need to have him flat-out tell me that we’re on a date? Or is it simply implied because I personally need a flat-out explanation.
I’m ashamed to do it, but I have to quote Dr. Meredith Grey of Grey’s Anatomy because I find this quote to pretty much exactly sum it up:
Intimacy is a four syllable word for, "Here's my heart and soul, please grind them into hamburger, and enjoy." It's both desired, and feared. Difficult to live with, and impossible to live without.
I can’t decide what I am more scared of: him wanting me or him rejecting me.
I want him to want me. I need him to need me. I’d love him to love me…err. Sorry, it’s just that Cheaptrick really perfect sometimes. Those words totally apply right now. I do want him. And more than almost anything else, I want him to want me too.
Like I said before, I’m scared of him too. Let me try to better explain: he’s fricking perfect. Alright, that’s not true, but he does fascinate me and I’m just afraid that he’s going to realize, I’m really not. I’m just a girl who loves bright colors, but only wants to wear black. Who constantly fights with her weight, but never seems to win. A girl who loves to read books, but has yet to successfully finish any of her writing projects. Who aspires to be something great, but still hasn’t decided what avenue is necessary to attain greatness. I am still discovering me. Could I actually create a curiosity in him?
On the other hand, rejection is what I am expecting. I realize a defeatist attitude is not a healthy one to carry in life, but my luck in love has been slim. I am nothing like the girls he has dated before. They’ve all been beautiful, petite, skinny women. I am not them.
The last girl he liked, well, she is my best friend. Another gorgeous, skinny girl with a spectacular sense of humor, strong beliefs, and an incredibly generous nature. He started calling her every night just to talk. He is incredibly shy. We knew he liked her. He never had a chance to actually ask her out, she was already seeing someone else. He just hadn’t found out yet.
He doesn’t call me.
Okay, so he does call me. But only when he’s not going to make it to something. Then I am like his version of a sick note or an excuse slip. I guess I can’t complain, he calls me first, but I could really use a phone call of another sort.
With this lack of any real evidence towards the contrary, I believe there is a good chance I am headed straight for heartbreak yet again.
I don’t care anymore.
That may not exactly be the right way to characterize it. I guess what I’m really trying to say is that, well, if heartbreak is on the way, so be it. He’s amazing. I enjoy spending time with him, and as long as I have that opportunity, I’m going to take it. Who knows, maybe attitudes will change.
Besides, every time I pray about it, God sends me word: WAIT. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but I know that I’m to wait. Which is fine. I’ve got time. I need to be praying for God to keep me strong and patient. These lonely nights are the hard part because I’m still not sure what I’m waiting for.
But hey, it can only get better. Right?
- Toulouse-Lautrec, Moulin Rouge
Some nights all I can do is wonder. A lot of it comes from the simple fact that I am tired, but also is partially because I can feel the loneliness trying to knock me down again.
Solitude seems to be something I slink back into far too often lately. I’ll spend half my evening with my family only to retreat to the sanctuary of my bedroom to play songs that only make the situation more obvious.
“She’s hiding.”
“No, she said she was writing something. You know, working on one of those projects of her’s.”
“I still think she’s hiding. Something is wrong.”
“Oh, you worry too much. She needs the quiet to think.”
My bedroom door is right off the living room and it does nothing to dispel the noise coming from the TV. This is why music can often be heard blaring from my room at any one point in the day. It’s all I can do to keep myself sane and finish a thought.
Now, there’s nothing wrong with my family watching TV and hanging out in the living room. On the contrary, it’s comforting to hear them out there. It means that I’m not alone…
I am tired. All I can do is think of him. I’m so tired of thinking only about him. Sometimes the music subdues the thoughts, but usually, as it’s doing tonight, it just elevates the issue.
He’s a musician. In each song, I can hear him singing, and in each song, I am singing to him. I can make anything become a song from me to him.
We sang together once. At a camp. He had been asked to lead the songs during the nightly campfire, and I knew the songs all by heart. Our voices blend so beautifully. He has a gorgeous tenor voice that is smooth as silk, but can drop down low to make each word stick in your mind. It makes me want to melt. I know if it ever is directed at me, I won’t be able to resist it.
Did I mention he plays guitar? That he writes his own music? He does. Right now he’s waiting for the mastered cd to be completely finished. All the artwork, the copies, everything…I get one of the first copies of the cd. He seemed surprised that I would want one, and I was surprised he didn’t know that I would want one.
I hang on his every word. Tell him how much I enjoy his music, his voice, everything. What more do I need to say?
Nights like this tend to break my heart. One more night without a phone call.
I asked him if he wanted to hang out with me sometime this weekend. Alright, so I sent this invitation via email, but still…
But if he called…what would I do?
I would instantly agree to any plan he would want to make. A movie? Great. Walk around town? Wonderful. Midnight trip to Walmart? My favorite. Tap dancing on BBQ’s? Splendid, I couldn’t love anything more.
And then the panic would start.
I’ve never had much experience in the arena of dating. To me, it seems a lot like being thrown to the lions, and if, by the grace of God, you are lucky enough to find an angel…you are the lucky one.
How does it all work? How am I supposed to keep up a conversation for the entirety of a date? Do you hold hands? As the woman, am I supposed to allow him to initiate any form of affection? Or do I reach for his hand during the movie?
And how do you know if it’s a date anyway? Any more, he could just want some company because he’s bored. Do I need to have him flat-out tell me that we’re on a date? Or is it simply implied because I personally need a flat-out explanation.
I’m ashamed to do it, but I have to quote Dr. Meredith Grey of Grey’s Anatomy because I find this quote to pretty much exactly sum it up:
Intimacy is a four syllable word for, "Here's my heart and soul, please grind them into hamburger, and enjoy." It's both desired, and feared. Difficult to live with, and impossible to live without.
I can’t decide what I am more scared of: him wanting me or him rejecting me.
I want him to want me. I need him to need me. I’d love him to love me…err. Sorry, it’s just that Cheaptrick really perfect sometimes. Those words totally apply right now. I do want him. And more than almost anything else, I want him to want me too.
Like I said before, I’m scared of him too. Let me try to better explain: he’s fricking perfect. Alright, that’s not true, but he does fascinate me and I’m just afraid that he’s going to realize, I’m really not. I’m just a girl who loves bright colors, but only wants to wear black. Who constantly fights with her weight, but never seems to win. A girl who loves to read books, but has yet to successfully finish any of her writing projects. Who aspires to be something great, but still hasn’t decided what avenue is necessary to attain greatness. I am still discovering me. Could I actually create a curiosity in him?
On the other hand, rejection is what I am expecting. I realize a defeatist attitude is not a healthy one to carry in life, but my luck in love has been slim. I am nothing like the girls he has dated before. They’ve all been beautiful, petite, skinny women. I am not them.
The last girl he liked, well, she is my best friend. Another gorgeous, skinny girl with a spectacular sense of humor, strong beliefs, and an incredibly generous nature. He started calling her every night just to talk. He is incredibly shy. We knew he liked her. He never had a chance to actually ask her out, she was already seeing someone else. He just hadn’t found out yet.
He doesn’t call me.
Okay, so he does call me. But only when he’s not going to make it to something. Then I am like his version of a sick note or an excuse slip. I guess I can’t complain, he calls me first, but I could really use a phone call of another sort.
With this lack of any real evidence towards the contrary, I believe there is a good chance I am headed straight for heartbreak yet again.
I don’t care anymore.
That may not exactly be the right way to characterize it. I guess what I’m really trying to say is that, well, if heartbreak is on the way, so be it. He’s amazing. I enjoy spending time with him, and as long as I have that opportunity, I’m going to take it. Who knows, maybe attitudes will change.
Besides, every time I pray about it, God sends me word: WAIT. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but I know that I’m to wait. Which is fine. I’ve got time. I need to be praying for God to keep me strong and patient. These lonely nights are the hard part because I’m still not sure what I’m waiting for.
But hey, it can only get better. Right?
1 comment:
I empathize completely with your being afraid of him liking you. I thimk Im sometimes more terrified of how to act when someone does like me, than when they dont. Its all that nagging uncertainty. Thats why I hate dating. I mean, I love it, but I hate it.
This is where those evaluation sheets come in.
wait. wait. wait....wait.
HOW LONG!! GEESH! ITS BEEN 20 YEARS ALREADY!
...thats sometime how I feel.
Love is a many splendid thing that sometimes I want to take outback and end its pathetic existance. A clean break.
But, thats what makes it worthwile, right? Knowing that you've worked through it, wrestled with it, waited patiently for it. Its the anticipation.
sigh.
I dont know what Im talking about.
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