Friday, April 11, 2008

He's Just Not That Into Me?

Last night I got to hang out with the Artist and the rest of the gang for the first time in four weeks. I was jittery all day in preparation for the outing because I knew that I just had to tell the Artist that I like him. Picking out the perfect outfit took a considerable amount of time - I had to make sure I looked cute but without trying too hard. Effortless chic, they call it.

Of course, I showed up at the bar and everyone was already there. Including the man himself. One look at him and I had to gather all my strength as to not blush. I think it worked and I think I presented myself to everyone in a cool and collected manner. Inside, my heart was about to jump out of my chest.

After a few drinks my friend, the matchmaker, took me aside and inquired:

"So what do you think? Are you digging the Artist?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "But the real question is, is he digging me?"

My friend didn't have a clear answer for me, "Well, I haven't really talked to him about that directly, but I personally think he thinks you're cute, so if I were you I would go talk to him."

I suddenly felt like a timid little school girl, "You're doing shots with me. Right now. It's the only way I can get the courage up to hit on the Artist."

And with those words, I waved the bartender over.

As the night progressed in time and blurriness, I somehow found myself sitting in a bar stool next to the Artist, with everyone else mingling in a far corner of the bar. He was all mine for the time being and I had to make the most of it. We talked about our families, art, music, near-arrest stories, and miscellaneous madness.

Before long, it was after one am and the only people out of our whole large group left at the bar were me, the Artist, and my friend the matchmaker. My friend saw this as his cue to bow out so that I get some alone time with the guy.

"Are you guys leaving too or are you gonna stick around for a while longer?" my friend asked before heading to the exit door.

The Artist replied, "It's cool, I think I"ll stick around. I live just a few houses over."

Hells yeah. He wants some alone time with me? He likes me?

After my friend left, the Artist and I finished our drinks and he offered to walk me home, since I live pretty close to the bar. I was practically in seventh heaven at that point as I gladly accepted his offer. Surely, a boy who offers to walk a girl home must like her.

As we approached my house, I began to wonder how to tell him that I am really into him. I knew that if I was sober, there would be no way in hell I'd ever be able to profess my attraction to him. It was now or never. After all, as he said earlier that night, he wasn't even going to be in the city this weekend or the next. I had to make my move.

"Well, I guess I will see you sometime soon," the Artist began saying goodbye.

"Hey, wait," I quickly interrupted him, my thoughts spinning like crazy in my drunken head, "I... I just wanted to let you know that I think you're really cute..."

I think he smiled... or maybe cringed... or maybe both... He said, "Wow.. you really caught me off guard with this one..."

As I am trying to remember exactly what he said last night, some bits and pieces are missing out of the equation. I was clearly drunk, not sloppily so, but I was inebriated to a point where now I can't remember for the life of me all that he said last night.

I do remember, however, that there was no definitive answer on his part. He reiterated that he was leaving town for two weeks. And, I believe he said that he will see me soon. He also did not reciprocate my "You're cute" comment. None of these bits of information seem particularly hope-inspiring. We parted very amicably, with lots of smiles, but again, I can't assess due to my drunkenness, how much of that amicability was genuine.

As the Ex put it to me in this afternoon's phone conversation, the Artist is either "a pussy, not that into you, or gay." I am positive it is not the latter of the bunch, so that leaves me with the first two. And with the way the Artist's been acting around me all last night, save for the whole episode at the end of my walk home, I could have put my money on the fact that he might be attracted to me.

Our conversation at the end of the night threw everything into a loop. I don't think he likes me... or is there still hope? Should I keep hoping until the next time I see him, which, I imagine will be in about two weeks or so. Should I keep hoping or move on now?

I wish I knew the answers...

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

To My First Love

First loves can be tragic, they can be mistakes, they can be gateways into other relationships, they can be extinguished as quickly as they were ignited. My first love? It was great.

Well, it wasn't perfect. Far from it, really. He was 17 and Iwas 16. We were egotistical, hormone-driven, rule-defying teenagers. And though he told me he loved me several times, we never officially dated and he had the audacity to date other girls around the same time I professed my love for him. I couldn't sleep sometimes because I was on the verge of tears, hell, I was balling my eyes out because the newfound emotion was too intense to contain in my twig-skinny 16 year old body. It was actually pretty wonderful.

Almost eight years later, we still keep in touch, tell each other how great we are, how proud we are of each other's accomplishments. He's all grown up now, as am I, or at least I like to think so. He's been married for the past 3 years and happily so. We both had other loves since our loves drifted apart from each other and our hearts had moved on. We both remember fondly the times we were absolutely crazy about each other, because, whether or not I was his first love or if he had ever truly loved me at all, we shared a very deep connection.

I want to proudly say this though - my first love was and will always remain a wonderful person, and though at times I wondered what would happen if he didn't live so far away from me now (oh, and if he wasn't married), I have no regrets about any of my feelings for him at any point of our relationship and friendship.

Right now, feeling stressed out from school work overload and priorities and responsibilities of my adult life, I am ever so grateful that I got a chance to talk to him today. If he were ever to read this, I would tell him that he is a wonderful friend and that I am so thankful for every kind word he had for in times of need and despair.

Thank you, my first love.