When we met, I didn’t think of a future beyond the next hour or so. He was totally out of my league. I was the nerdy, chubby girl and he was the buff football player with a captivating smile. He had the body of a Greek god, and a persona so magnetic that you’d have to be a vegetable not to fall for it. Anyway, I was sure I’d be tossed in the friendzone the moment I opened my mouth because the only thing I could mentally formulate was gibberish. The conversation was surprisingly amazing, so I guess I wasn’t being fair to myself for thinking less of me.
2010 & 2011.
If I could summarize the next two years, I’d put it this way: we hooked up. In the few weeks after we met, a solid friendship blossomed. It was magical, considering that he’s the one guy who didn’t feel the need to have sex with me every time we cuddled on his couch or in my bed. One day, he sent a text letting me know he’s on his way to my place with food. And I figured, who am I to say no to free dinner? So I tidied up my room, and by that I mean I washed the dishes and made my bed and tossed out the hairballs on my bathroom counter.
That night was a mess, really. I still couldn’t put a single comprehensible word together, and keeping my composure was as easy as making water. As in actively reacting hydrogen with oxygen to make water. I couldn’t tell whether he was laughing at me because I was funny or making a fool of myself. I didn’t want to care, because we were just friends. As conversation intensified, we ended up kissing. His kiss officially stole my heart, and I still haven’t got it back. One thing led to another, and I found myself hooking up with my best friend.
After all that, I find myself seated at Wakkaberry, enjoying the most amazing fro-yo combination known to man, on my own. As I get up to leave, I bump into what feels like a brick wall. When I look up, a familiar smile captures my gaze and the butterflies I thought had died suddenly invade my abdomen. I can’t help but stutter at this point because he looks so much better now than ever. His lips are moving in slow motion, and I can’t hear a thing. He leans in to give me a hug, and the scent of his cologne took my breath away. When my senses finally start operating again, I notice his intense gaze and hear him say, “Wow, after all these months you still are beautiful. We should meet up sometime. Give me your number, I’ll text you.”
I’m whipped. Well, at least I think I am. I can’t make anything work with anyone else and I wouldn’t even want to try. I’ve made him “The One.” I mean, he made me happy and brought out a more confident and phenomenal side to me that I didn’t know existed. I want to be better, because of and for him. I love him.
There are so many thoughts crossing my mind as I’m standing outside the church. My heart is pounding so hard, I can actually hear it. I can feel my palms get sweaty and my knees get weak, and the idea of making a run for it seems like a good one. I see him standing at the altar, dressed in a tailored suit and the tie I bought him on our first anniversary. He looks so handsome. In my dress, I walk down the aisle staring right at him. In all honesty, I didn’t think this day would come. I feel anxious and happy at the same time. With each step down the aisle, my eyes dart from his intense gaze at me to the same the guests present. I finally found my best friend in one of the front rows, and I walk into the row, and take a seat next to her. The ceremony was gorgeous, and so was his bride. I hope she makes him as happy as I would have, given the chance. I still haven’t got my heart back, and I’m surprisingly okay with that.