Tuesday, July 12, 2005
An Encounter
It's official, I am the biggest goober on the planet. I have come a long way from who I was in high school/junior high, where I was the self-esteem equivalent of pond-scum. I am much more confident in who I am and my worth as a human being. I still have a strong need to make people like me, but it doesn't bother me as much when they don't and I no longer buy into the cool kids concept that some people seem stuck in for the entirety of their lives.
Something about Mr. Wrong sends me careening back into high school days. He is the star of the basketball and the football team and I am, once-again, the Vice-President of the Math Club (don't laugh, I really was). I just saw him, after a week and a half drought of each other's company, and I said NOTHING. Not one word. I just stood there tongue-tied, feeling like I was 15 all over again, and I had just tripped going up the stairs and sent all my books scattering across the hall.
What is it about this man that does this to me? I should have been able to get something out along the lines of- How was your trip? Miss me much? But no, I just stared, at the face and the arms and the eyes and felt as though my whole soul had exposed itself to him, transmitting how much I wanted to throw my arms around him and tell him how much I missed him. Then the elevator door closed, leaving me bereft of his presence and my hands shaking slightly.
Something about Mr. Wrong sends me careening back into high school days. He is the star of the basketball and the football team and I am, once-again, the Vice-President of the Math Club (don't laugh, I really was). I just saw him, after a week and a half drought of each other's company, and I said NOTHING. Not one word. I just stood there tongue-tied, feeling like I was 15 all over again, and I had just tripped going up the stairs and sent all my books scattering across the hall.
What is it about this man that does this to me? I should have been able to get something out along the lines of- How was your trip? Miss me much? But no, I just stared, at the face and the arms and the eyes and felt as though my whole soul had exposed itself to him, transmitting how much I wanted to throw my arms around him and tell him how much I missed him. Then the elevator door closed, leaving me bereft of his presence and my hands shaking slightly.
Labels: Mr. Wrong
