Sometimes the heart is stupid? Well, I think so anyway. Now, I am going to take some time out here and talk about something a little different than the topics I have filed across this desk recently. Wait a minute…I don’t know why I am explaining myself. After all, this is my blog I can talk about what I please!
I know that a stereotypical masculine bloke is not meant to talk about ‘feelings’ and other such romanticised ‘drivel’ as I am sure it is visualised to be. So if you want to read a blog post that contains VIOLENCE, SEX, COARSE LANGUAGE and other such features, well, I’m afraid, this particular post ain’t gonna cut the mustard.
Recently, and by recently I mean today, I lost my opportunity to be with the woman that I have come to really enjoy. Now, I realise ‘enjoy’ isn’t a very powerful word when establishing a woman one likes, but please, allow me to explain myself, and to do that, I have to begin from the start.
The young woman’s name is Elisha. What I will say, not to give away too many details and allow the whole world to know exactly who she is and all, is that she lives in the Northern Territory, in the capital city, which I have forgotten the name of…well, I’m a great Australian. I live in this country and don’t even know the friggin’ capital of one of its eight states. Yeah, eight! Not fifty like America! You would think eight would be easy to remember! Thank God I don’t live in America, otherwise I probably wouldn’t know the city that I was living in, let alone all the rest! You’d think I’d remember. Anyway, she came to Melbourne to study at university and that is how we met.
We were thrown together into groups in two separate classes during our first semester, both of which were PR, the primary study she’s undertaking, whilst mine’s creative writing. I instantly thought she was physically attractive; she has gorgeous dark hair which is shoulder length and shines under the luminescence from the lights above. She has light brown skin, partially from her heritage, and partially from the Northern sun, and a strong Australian accent. She has this amazing smile with these flawlessly bright white teeth, which combined can light up a room, and her laugh. Well, don’t get me started, I mean, I live in this country and I am not a fan of the accent. In fact, I never actually gained an Australian accent and I’m eighth generation Australian! Anyway – her laugh, right? If she was not beautiful, then her laugh alone would certainly make her so. I recently wrote a piece asking if people did laugh out loud anymore or if ‘LOL’ was the only term ever used in response, and I can tell you – her laugh, it is the reason why I wish ‘LOL’ was never used. It’s terrific to listen to, for it never sounds fake and always flows so realistically. And her body? Well, I’m gonna try and keep this PG, so how ‘bout I say it’s pretty good and leave it at that. She has a nice sized chest too, but I’m not saying that I wouldn’t like her if it was small or non apparent. I’m not saying my tongue drops out of my mouth and I start panting uncontrollably, droll rushing out from the corners of my gob every time a hotty with big boobies comes waltzing passed, not at all. I’m just saying it’s a nice plus size, and half of her clothes seem to exaggerate it and make her cleavage look as though an entire army could fit in its centre.
Now, going back to the part where I thought she was physically attractive… well, you see, there’s the rub. I have this rule. I do not date people I work with, or people I go to uni with. So I didn’t do anything for quite a while. We became quite friendly, and nothing more over the weeks, and trusted each other explicitly when it came to the instigation of work and trusting one another to edit and critique it to a professional standard. We laughed at each other’s jokes, and often at the other’s expense as well. Closer towards the end of the semester I did try something though, you know, to see what she thought of me…I placed my hand behind her on the top of her chair where she rested her back. No, I didn’t yawn when I did so, I just threw it there, and she quickly moved position to ensure she was nowhere near the chair immediately after I pulled such a move – not a good sign I do believe.
Okay, so now we move on to the second semester. Still, nothing is happening. Until the sixth week….Elisha comes up to me and asks for assistance. She is to present an oral presentation on PowerPoint the following week and knows I am to do the same thing, and asks me if I can help her. I agree, and we spend the next couple minutes talking, which we had not had much time to do for a little while now, before she leaves me to sit with her friends. So I send her some info that can help her. She never used it, but that’s beside the point. At the end of the message I wrote down this notation; if you use any of the information provided I might need to ask you for something in return. Dinner, maybe?
In semester one I had told Elisha when I helped her that I did not do things for free and that I might ask her for a favor, and I was playfully, and subtlety, calling it in. Well, maybe subtle is putting too fine a point to it. Unsubtle, perhaps?
Come week seven… she takes one look at me as she enters the tutorial where we are to present and whispers to her friend as she comes to sit near me ‘I think he likes me’, indicating towards me, and Elisha quickly steers her friend far away from where I am sitting. Anyway, I manage to do my presentation first, and give away some chocolates for those who answer my questions that I have for them correctly, and when Elisha comes I offer her a chocolate and she’s not interested in the kind I am offering. She makes the note however that she is nervous and hates giving oral presentations. So I put my hand on her shoulder, give it a squeeze and say ‘you’ll be fine gorgeous’ and leave.
Now, two weeks go by and I do not see Elisha in class. Suddenly, she appears, week ten, and as I walk in she says ‘Hello’, rather formally, and looks anxious as she does so. She eventually moves to the front of the class where her friends choose to sit, but for the rest of the class she keeps looking back at me. Actually, I’d say that she spent two thirds of the class looking at me. Not angrily or anything like that, just, plain looking.
Come week eleven, and we are in another class. I had recently asked her if she had wanted to come to a book launch that I had been invited to attend. She says ‘no’, friends birthday she says. The launch is moved two days in advance. I ask Elisha again, and she says ‘no’, her excuse – friends birthday. Again? Twice in one week. How many friends can she have? Are they pouring out of the wood work? I however manage to find two friends of mine willing to come. Elisha in class apologises for being unable to attended, and I reply ‘nah, don’t worry about it. I found two chicks who are able to come with.’ ‘Oh’ says Elisha, her eyes narrowed a little as she looks away, ‘okay’ she continues, the smile that had being plastered on her face having faded as her face seems to drop for but a fraction of a second as she temporarily loses control, before redistributing the smile she had once worn across her face to mask her emotions. Was she jealous? Hard to tell. I asked a friend of mine, a woman at the time, and she had no response for me.
Now, the year ends, the new one begins, and I find we do not share any classes together. Come week eleven, Elisha says ‘hi’ to me as I leave the campus, out of the blue. She was standing alone in the car park, waiting for her friends, and I am quite surprised, and I am almost certain that my ‘hey!’ reflected it too. Week thirteen arrives, today actually. We are to share a classroom together. I decide upon a plan. I wish to ask her if I can speak to her for a second and then confess to her that I believe I like her. My chance – what did happen to it? Elisha and her friends take off before I can implement it, and now…where is she you might ask? On a plane back to the Northern Territory and far away from me for the next eight weeks.
So, there is our history. Now, what did I mean about ‘believed I liked her’ and that I ‘enjoyed her company’? Well, like I said, I have this rule, where I don’t date people who I go to uni with. Now however, I would break that rule for her and only her, and I was ready to tell her that today. And for all I know I only like her because I may not be able to have a relationship with her. I mean, one of us would have to permanently move to another state to have a proper relationship. On top of this, it just might be the fact that I liked her as a person and as a friend, and the fact that we don’t share classes anymore makes me feel as though I lost her, and to get her back I concoct wild feelings in order to do just that – get her back. Of course, I would also have kissed her if she had let me. Does that change anything? I would have told her that I liked her, and that I should have told her right from the very moment I ever saw her that those feelings were always with me.
But the thing that bugs me, is that everything I saw could have being a masquerade. I might have believed that her looking at me meant she found me physically appealing. Hell, she could have just so happened to look in my direction a couple times and maybe I exaggerated it in my mind. Or perhaps she was looking at something else instead of me, or someone else. Maybe there was somebody else she found attractive? The fact she interpreted my ‘dinner’ line to mean that I liked her and my belief that she felt the same way and wished that it was true may have been nothing more than a wrongful error of judgment on my behalf. Perhaps her looking jealous was for a completely different reason. Maybe she was just depressed at the time for personal issues that she was having difficulty resolving? Perhaps…perhaps…perhaps…I could go on all day about any and all false misinterpretations that I made to justify the ridiculous idea that she felt something for me which further justified my want, no, my need to tell her how I felt.
That is why the heart is stupid. It wants want IT wants and it will do almost anything to get it. Even lie, the little prick. I mean, what right does the heart have to throw a person’s emotions around willy nilly? To make them fall in love with a beautiful exotic babe from outer state who they have no hope in hell of ever being with? Does the heart get off on hurting its owner? Maybe the heart is just a friggin’ arsehole, and the user is its little bitch being constantly played the fool?
In an un-cruel world, I believe it should be the women who make the first move. I mean, they might toss a signal or two around, and it might all be false interpretation by the bloke. Or they might not pick up on it period. Fact of life – men are idiots. I apologise blokes who might be reading this. I know, I can’t be all that smart if I can’t figure this shit out on my own. It would just be great if the woman would come up to the guy they like and just say it, without making physical gestures or other such nonsense. On top of that, I don’t even know if she’s taken. I realise, you don’t know until you try, but I would rather know before I go in like a shark for the kill. I don’t wanna be left stranded on the beach after the discovery that the woman I have been crushing on is dating the next gen boyfriend and laughs at my insult to be her man.
I also realise that the bigger loser is not the one who tries and fails, but the one who fails to try. I just don’t know what is expected of me in this circumstance. How do I know what is what?
Do I love her? Yes, I would say that I do. I think about her often. I like all of her qualities, except for one or two of her friends, they gimmie the shits.
Do I want to spend my life with her? I don’t know, but I would like to be with her. To hold her in my arms at least once. To sleep with her – not sex, not immediately at least, but to just lie down together in bed and feel her head on my chest and to listen to her breath as I wrap my arms around her and keep her warm at night as the moon hangs in the cover of the darkened night sky outside the window as the moon light drifts across her silly exotic skin. I also long to kiss her crimson lips, and feel the warmth of her face as I gently brush it with my hands as I grab her ever so gently as to pluck her lips once more.
Do I go to the Northern Territory to talk to her? Spend a cool grand flying over to the other side of the country to speak to a woman whom I have feelings for, even though I have no idea where she lives and couldn’t tell the streets of her fair city from Adam. I could get lost, broke, and in all likelihood murdered.
Do I write her an e-mail, confessing my feelings? And if I do so, by what address? One that she would recognise as being my own, or a pseudonym that she would not recognise?
Or do I wait eight weeks for her to return, which she might not do, and confess to her then my feelings, and hope she has not found a lover during her time back home, if she doesn’t have one already? I mean, beautiful women do not stay single forever. A woman who looks that good and who is that amazing to be around must have at least a couple hundred other blokes salivating over her too.
I am, I am just at a loss. And on top of that I am exhausted. If anyone could help me out of this mess, I would be quite appreciative.
This is Naughty Nefarious, signing off ladies and gentleman. Good Night.