Absolutely Not a Love Story

Thursday, May 12, 2016 Comments Off

I discovered that he is a lot taller than I had previously thought, making him abundant more intimidating, yet less kissable. His now-recognisable scent lingers around me every time we part; his fragrance wafts lovely in the air, gently kissing the tips of my hair and the lapels of my coat. Everything about him is new, yet there is a certain kind of familiarity about him that echoes and rings in the corners of my brain.

Maybe in a sense, he is the epitome of everything that I have always known before. Something safe, easily approachable, yet a proper individual in his own way. There is a right amount of mysterious air around him, although I cannot be sure whether or not the enigmatic aspect about him is intentional and elaborate, and his elusive behaviour baffles everyone to the point that his indecisiveness and vagueness add up to his reclusive persona. Though to be clear, he is not as appealing as I have written because he is, for the most part, normal; but not normal enough to be just another faceless figure in the background of a lush movie. Furthermore, he does not puzzle me in a similar way which a proper kind of taciturn tall, dark, stranger type of character could illicit your curiosity. He is, simply, a man. A man that, at times, is fun to be with, even though I can't seriously take his words due to his indecisiveness.

But, in all seriousness, it is fun to finally find someone to like—someone that I can adore because of his actions, someone that I can flirt harmlessly with, someone that I can look forward to meet with, and someone I can joke around with. Not necessarily someone that I will settle down with, obviously, with his inability to be dependable; but it helps alleviate my craving for inside jokes and cute banter between a person of opposite gender. A tiny sip of water to quench my thirst.

We are both generously limited only to the act of talking with each other on the spot, though I haven't got any idea if it was otherwise. This act of liking someone, without actually having to be romantically entangled with him and all the while recognising his flaws, has been missing from my life since quite a while. And it is, as I've said, a familiar and comforting feeling—partly deceiving the longing in my veins that have been imperceptibly singing the song of the swan for the past years. Lately the song has turned into somewhat cheerful, though it has kept its dark disposition, and it is absolutely not a love song. Still, it is a rather welcomed change.

Aside from the statistic and scientific fact that I could never have someone that I want to want me back—which in this case is him—there is also another numerous factors that make me impossible to be with him romantically, although, surprisingly, age is not a problem in this particular case even though I had always thought that the first proper man that I like would be older than the stars. To be absolutely honest, I am writing about this not because I want to have sympathy or pity, but rather to share with you the giddiness and childishness of liking someone; a feeling some people have forgotten since they are too busy being serious. And I am honestly looking for days of us being together, without actually having us to be together.

And I feel grateful, since it is nearing Summer, and everything is supposed to be in bloom.

Feelings, too.

[pic by Rowan Fraser-Taylor]

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