By stephen
Date: 2001 May 17
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everyone dull
Everything Sullen..
Cry to the ages
Whilst the crows are still crowin'

     I've complained to friends about her constantly. It is
mystery how I manage to maintain friends in the first place.
Sure they snowball problems my way, but it is usually the
same old situation: spilling my love troubles. I don't know
if you've ever had this problem before. We all can extract
a good amount of obsession every once in awhile. I gained
this habit from naturally being a picky person when it came
to relationships.
     It was always hard for me to grasp onto a person of the
opposite sex and generally enjoy being around them. It was
the typical dreaded inconsistency formula of "The Two
Attributes", which, if you haven't caught on yet, is
personality and attraction. Sure other factors exist, but
for generalization sake, two is sufficient for this
conversation. One could stereotype till the end of time
ending up nowhere, so lets make this quick; it is hard to
find the right combination of personality and appearance.
This could be my reasoning for obsession, but on a regular
basis, I would deny it.
     When discovering the perfect spice for the recipe, my
heart didn't cook for anyone else since. This was a wee bit
past 2 years ago, when I just finished up my sophomore grade
in high school. She was a darling petite thing; dirty-blonde
hair that curled slightly while coloring itself in the rays
of the sun, light hazel eyes beautified with specks of
darker detail being covered by light blue contacts that
didn't quite keep her original tint hidden. She had that
pale healthy reflection with several acne splotches caused
by the over consumption of soda products, and a delicate
framed slim-waist figure other girls could envy. Her legs
are finely slimmed and muscular from her competition dance
years, fooling the softness of her shoulders and smooth back
...Oops. Rambling.
     As I said, I met her and got hooked for some time. She
has always seemed to be a quiet person, attaining only one
really close female friend. I couldn't say she has ever been
interested in dating before, because well, she hasn't, and
her mind seems to be better occupied with the newest
playstation RPG than with going out to a movie or shoot
pool. We could stop this entire blabber-fest right there.
Bingo dude, she's not your type! But that is my type, of
what I have realized about myself so far. I've had a
plentiful assortment of people who don't match with me,
for me. Like the sporty athletic energizer, manic
depressive actress, the magical Christian faith converter,
and the "pop that girl some prozac and shut her the hell up"
cheerleader...What did I say about stereotypes? All and all,
I know what I want now I believe, and I'm not much the
outgoing type as it is.
     We've become good friends, as friendly as a guy and a
girl could get without getting physically comfortable. The
3 out 4 dances I did go to while attending my high school
have been with her. It's always been the same ol' deal; take
the lovely girl out for a night of a lifetime, then go back
to normal the next day, as if nothing had happened. That
stuff always got to me. Women can be hideous beasts
sometimes. Not like the male apes are any better, but
really, the stupid "men are from Mars and women are from
Venus" crap could be true.
     I was going to ask her out at the Senior Prom, but I
backed down. My reasoning ruled out my lust I suppose. It
was a wonderful night, and I wouldn't want to ruin it for
her or me with that kind of pressure. I took her to a great
fancy restaurant, commenting on her beauty and paying for
her dinner, and all that jazz. At the prom we had fun
wiggling around like we knew how to dance, and showed off a
neat little swing number her and I put together. We snuggled
lovingly close dances, the majority of the time me
whispering conversation into her ear, making her giggle a
few times. My lips practically trembled so close to her ear.
Our faces were combined together, as if kissing sideways.
My nostrils filled with pleasant smells of her hair, while
my nose tickled from her small blonde curls. Every second of
that dance I cherished. Every single touch I painstakingly
tried to remember so I wouldn't feel lonely for it later.
Her aura of life flourished against me, heating my front
side against her. I loved feeling her breathe up against me,
her chest puffing in and out as we danced closer and closer.
By the end of each slow dance, we would end up as close as
one would be while having intercourse.
     Why do we return after this? What changes while she
sleeps? How does one act like a event like this never
happened? I will never know for certain. It was a good night
nonetheless, and that's always something to be thankful for.
     Senior year is almost over, and I still have my heart
set on this girl. We both got accepted to the same college,
so my expectations are high for our future. I still regret
not asking her at the most romantic time. I wanted to
whisper a wonderful poem about how beautiful she was in her
ear as we danced so close. But I didn't. I couldn't. There
will be other chances right? There is still hope...
     One day I will stop treating love like my schoolwork:
Procrastination is like masturbation, at first it is
wonderful, but then you realize you are fucking yourself.