Happenings
“My idea of good company is the company of clever, well-informed people who have a great deal of conversation; that is what I call good company.” –Persuasion
I do realize that I am quite often very
silly. As has been pointed out to me by a reader (or two, or three, or more) I
am often inconsistent, wishy-washy, and thoroughly selfish. Perhaps I ought to
apologize for this fault, but I also believe that my selfishness just might be
my tragic flaw. My hamartia. I cannot always help my tragic flaws for they are
my undoing. But I shall try to be much less so. But with that being said, I do
recall Jane Austen writing, “Selfishness must always be forgiven you know,
because there is no hope of a cure.”
The Artist is no longer of any consequence to
me, and we have not talked at all since he began dating whomever it is that he
is dating (a completely different girl than the one he was asking advice about
mind you). But it’s no matter. He is as welcome to be as inconsistent as
myself.
But I have met someone new. I have met a man and I am not even
certain as to what he should be called. For some reason I am nervous to fix a
name on him as it may be too permanent or not permanent enough. For some reason
he unsettles me.
I met this man at institute last week.
He is not particularly attractive nor immediately intriguing. An average guy to
my average girl. He asked if he might sit next to me during class, and as I am not
one to ever refuse a man a seat near me, I acquiesced. We introduced ourselves
to each other, but did not talk much after that. But tonight was different. Tonight was very different indeed.
Tonight, he invited himself to sit next
to me again, and we engaged in a bit of playful banter. Flirtations. Then I
found out that he too is a graduate student (an older man, huzzah!), and that
his minor for his undergrad was English literature. Similarities. Once class
was over, we stuck around the institute and chatted with some
friends about all sorts of meaningless things. Somehow we got onto the topic of
musicals which led to a healthy debate. While discussing Les Miserables, I
mentioned that Javert’s song, “Stars” is my absolute favorite. He immediately
hopped out of his seat, sat at the conveniently nearby piano and began to play the
song. Talent. For some unknown reason I began to cry; helpless, soundless tears
streaming down my cheeks. I had enough time to compose myself before he
rejoined the group, but my friends were barely able to contain their meaningful
glances. After a couple of hours of hanging about, we all decided it would probably be best if
we all went our separate ways. Once we were outside, he asked if he could walk
me to my car, which of course was perfectly fine with me.
We meant to say goodnight right there
and then, but we stayed in the lot and talked for at least two hours more. It
was easy and delightful. At one point he asked if I would like to go out sometime,
and once again I consented to his request. Usually after a guy asks me out, the
conversation comes to a grinding halt. I agree and then we stutter out an
awkward goodbye, “Uh…okay. I’ll see you then…uh…bye.” That didn't happen with
him. He asked me out, I said yes, and we kept on talking as though nothing in
the world had happened. He texted me when I got home, and we've been texting
for the past couple of hours. It’s 2:00 am. I’m only just getting to bed.
What is happening?
Con Amor,
The Lady
2 comments:
Oh la la! Love is in the air, my friend. You guys are perfect for each other.. I mean, just based off of the things you wrote here and what i have previously read about the kinds of boys you like...
Fun, fun! I hope you keep us in the loop. ;)
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