I’d like to think that I’d make a good girlfriend. In my own idealistic world, anyway. I don’t have a lot of experience with regard to relationships: I’ve been in only one so far and any “quasi-relationships” have been pretty much one sided (unrequited, always; or confused) or “destructive” (mentally, supposedly, somewhat. I believe).
The first one was silly. We were young, and I was impulsive and never really thought about things. But I liked him. But it was awkward because I didn’t know what to do and we both gave in to each other too easily; I think we were too passive. I wanted someone more assertive and I didn’t like feeling like things were too one way. I know I felt like I didn’t even know him, even though he knew so much about me. I would tell him about myself and when I asked for details about his life, he’d never really say. I didn’t like that. I don’t think it ended well. Somehow we’re friends now. He came to see me off at the airport. That was nice.
Whatever happened next was disaster one after another. I never knew what was real or not. Did I really like them? Some questions I managed to answer myself, but most only after a long time of discussion and pondering. One of them I hate with such a burning passion now, he disgusts me. The other, hmm, I don’t know. Probably never will.
But now, now is different. I left everything behind when I moved here to study, which changes everything. I’m foreign, this land is intimidating. Isn’t it more difficult to find love here? I’m the silly romanticist who thinks that maybe it’s not; maybe love will find me when I’m ready. Maybe the universe will bring me someone.
I dream about love all the time, perhaps too much. Every time I picture ourselves happy. Every image is happiness because that is what I want. Not specifically, but mainly, all I want with love is mutual happiness. I image us laughing, smiling, watching each other’s smiles, mapping how our faces light up when we smile, how the sun falls on our skin, how we glow. I watch as we bathe in glorious sun and moon beams, gleam with joy, and how we steal moments to hold hands and lean against each other. You don’t push me away even if it starts to get a tad clammy, we cling to each other because we know we form a new way to be happy when we are together. You like it when I make you lunch, even if it doesn’t taste that good or the presentation is sloppy; I can’t cut seaweed into pretty hearts, they look like circles. You eat and say that it’s good, smile at me, and grin when you’re done and try to steal some of mine. You buy us ice cold drinks, I take a photo.
You like photos. So do I. You don’t complain when I take 10 different shots and only post the one I look best in. You laugh and poke me, tease me about being vain. I pout. You tell me I’m cute. I blush and then you laugh some more and take a photo. You feel like a dream, I tell you just that and you just pull me closer as we walk home.
In school, you send me a random message when you’re bored in class. Or you entertain me when I’m bored. You know my friends, I know yours. We try not to invade each other’s friend time. We’re not surrounded by a vacuum. You’re one of my best friends, and all I want to do is squeeze your hand under the table and share small secrets with the corners of our eyes.
When you kiss me, the world stops.
I like it when you take initiative. Post things on your twitter, facebook, instagram, whatever. Ask me about things, show me you’re interested. I can’t always be the one talking. Talk about yourself if I get stuck. Interrupt me if ramble.
Help me be a better me. I hope we don’t get personal when we fight. Try not to use my deepest fears and secrets against me. If you know them, you probably know how I respond to them. When I break down, don’t keep shouting at me. I lose coherence in a fight, I choke up, and I’d rather give in to you than destroy what we created, what we are. But if I’m unhappy and pretend to be fine, I wonder if you’d realise.
If you realise and change things, know that I’ll love you even more.
We’d work towards mutual happiness, yes? We’d share our thoughts and opinions, we’d work things out. We’d be better people, people we want to be, and people we will become because we would work towards it, and you’d still be my best friend.
I’d want you to complement me, tell me nice things, let me know I’m loved. Don’t try to force me to conform to you, you’d know that I would do that myself; move closer to you because I wanted to. If I take an interest in something you like, tell me more, bring me into your world when I ask to, or show me your world. Let me try what I like.
I’d let you take my heart.
Perhaps you could give me yours.