Let me tell you a bit about The Writer. I met him in October of 2007. Despite the fact that I find him attractive, there was something else. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but I was gonna find out soon.
I was in the computer room at the program where he was typing an essay out. When he was finished, he gave it to the instructor who said that he was a great writer. I said that maybe he can write something for the newsletter. He agreed, and that was the last time I said anything to him for a while.
One day, I gathered up some proverbial balls and went to talk to him. He was reading, and I asked him if he would like to write something for the newsletter. He said “sure”, and started typing out a poem. He was finished, and he said he wanted a copy. I told him “fine”, and gave him a copy, and he asked if I would like to read it. So I did. I love to write, and reading poetry and short stories intrigue me. Novels are a bit of a task. Anyway, this poem was so deep, that I was left with my mouth dropped. Then he told me all that had happened to him in the years that he went to college and all that. I was absolutely stunned at how much in common our situations were. I think there were one or two differences, but otherwise, it was almost mirrored. He said that he started writing a novel and was doing his finishing touches. He said that he wrote 450 pages so far (since then, it’s finished at 502 pages).
And that’s what it was. My vibe was right–there was something about him other than him being a 6-foot-plus attractive guy. That’s when I decided that if anything, I’m keeping him around as long as I possibly can. I was not letting this one go too easily.
Thing is, ever since then, I was barely able to talk to him. One or two words was an accomplishment. I wanted to tell him so much, but I couldn’t. It got to the point where I was so frustrated to not be able to say anything, that I broke down. This has never happened to anyone I’ve encountered before, so there had to be something about him. And I knew what is was–I just couldn’t gather up those balls. My friends asked if he was single so that it could be a little easier to speak to him. Nope. Yeah, he’s single. Nope, it didn’t work. Then they went as far as to tell him about my huge crush on him (thanks to me saying “I dare you”). Didn’t work.
Then one day, something miraculous happened (it had to be!). I was eating lunch, and he was talking to another friend of mine. I saw a bottle of Diet Coke, and I said “Whose Diet dishwashing liquid is this?” My friend says that it was his. Then the conversation came to this:
Me: I’ve never had Diet Coke before, but Diet Pepsi tastes like straight-up Palmolive Dishwashing Liquid.
Him: And how do you know what dishwashing liquid tastes like?
Me: When I was younger, I used to blow bubbles with a straw. One day, I was curious, so I took a sip.
Him: You swallowed it?
Me: Yeah.
Him: Well, that explains everything.
Haha, boy’s got jokes. But since then, it’s gotten a bit easier to have a conversation with him. And he’s helping. Granted, I would love to have a romantic relationship with him, but even if there wasn’t one, I have no qualms having him in my life. In fact, I hope he is, because what he has done is reignite my love for writing. He’s given me more confidence. He’s made me believe. Something that no one else has been able to do.
This is a letter that I wish I can send to him. He knows that he’s part of my “passion re-ignition” (and I somehow made him turn a nice shade of red when I said it). But that’s as far as he knows. This is the rest of it. (Originally posted at Ecstasy MB)
“soulmates used to be fictional…until i met mine.”
There is a reason why there’s such a strong vibe that I’m feeling when you’re in my presence. This goes beyond me having the world’s biggest crush on you. There is more. This goes beyond you being fucking gorgeous. There is more. I can’t pinpoint it right away, but there is a reason why I dream about you.
I don’t want to say that I’m falling in love. Me? That’s impossible! After my last ex, I pretty much vowed that I never will fall in love. So far, I’ve succeeded. But along with me succeeding with that…no one has taken a glance at me.
When you said that you didn’t want a relationship, I thought I’d be broken in 7 pieces. But I didn’t even shed a tear. I cried because I couldn’t tell you how I felt myself. Out of frustration, not out of heartbreak. And I’m sure it’d probably happen again, but before it does, I have gathered just enough cajones to say this.
You have done the one thing that even my own mother couldn’t do–make me believe. Believe what? Believe in hope. Believe in ambition, believe in…soulmates. As much as I shudder when I hear that word, it’s coming to mind. It’s not a relationship-linked one (whether or not it becomes such is questionable), but…it’s one. You told me things that I’ve heard time and time again…but yet coming from you it makes sense.
Maybe it has something to do with the similar backgrounds. Maybe it has something to do with the similar interests. Maybe it has something to do with…passion.
Whenever you’re ready, you know where to find me. You’re my writer. And you’ve inspired me to write more. You’ve inspired me to start a novel. You’re the first chapter on my list.
Thank you.
Thank you. That, in itself, says a lot.
