The Little Things by Kelly Damiano
He notices us. We can't believe it... how can we? He is so handsome and well put together. Alwasy smelling of freesia and cologne, dresses well, with a smile that could stop a heartbeat. How did he ever notice us? We are so very imperfect. Our stomachs always ties up in knots, our hair is never in the proper place, we wear sweatpants and t-shirts to classes. We are too busy with family, friends, schoolwok, sorority obligations, or sleep to fully express interest in him. We ignore him and cut him short on the telephone yet we secretly want to see him and we want him to call.
He likes us. He calls us every few evenings at eight PM, relays his daily accomplishments, his daily failures, his aspirations, and his past. We are scared at what potential this may hold. We are scared of having our heart smashed by yet another wolf dressed in sheep's clothing. We stereotype him as a creep, a jerk, and a typical sex-crased-fiendish type of college boy. Despite what we tell ourselves, we've known, since the first time we'd looked into those deep brown eyes, that he could never treat us as poorly as those before him had.
He ignores us. When we see him out at a bar we are extremely happy but act nonchalant. while walking by we say hello and expect him to fawn oever us- but when he doesn't, when he ignores us; we realize that he is here with another girl (who obviously can never be as good as we are), and we leave... creastfallen. What if he wasn't a creep, what if he was the one destined for us? We cry, gansh our teeth; relay the story to fifty of our closed friends over pizza and bread-sticks and cookies. When our friends label him an asshole, completely insensitive to anyone's feelings but his own- we are intrigued. Perhaps they are right, but perhaps they are not.
We intirgue him. After much deliberation we decide that if by chance he may be the one for us and he gets away, we will never be able to forgive ourselves. We pick up the phone book, flip throught the pages, stop on his name, pick up the phone, and dial. Exhilarated by our own audacity we ask him on a date. We've never done this before and are thrilled when he happily accepts.
He really "sees" us. During our date we discover that, in fact, he is not at all pretentious or rude. He opens doors, make appropriate small talk (not at all focused upon drinking and/or sex), he listens- that kind of listening where the entire world vanishes as he gazes intently inot our eyes, he avoids staring at our breasts, he chews with his mouth closed, and he insists upon paying. We date him more regularly; we talk to him daily and miss him in his absences. Once officially "together", days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and months melt into a year. He has told us of his love for us ages ago and we have told him of ours. We are amazed that he can love us despite the imperfections we have allowed him to observe. He puts up with the fact that we hate feet (touching us especially, wriggling towards us... even if the night air has made them as cold as icicles), we steal the covers, snore on occasion, have a true phobia of bugs, and at times pick arguments with him.
We often wonder if he is 'the one' after all, and when we try to picture our life without im we feel as though we may die. We often remember that he is intelligent, anbitious, and attractive; we often notice that other girls also notice those same attributes. We tell him we are not jealous and that if he is interested in those whorish sirens then more power to him. Our mantra seems to be that we were fine without him and we don't need him in order to have happiness. But in reality, we almost choke on these words. We wonder if one day he'll find a better fit for his heart. If he'll realize that most of the time we are merely grasping for straws. If he'll realize that we fight with him because we are afraid to have our heart broken by the only man we have ever truly loved. That we can never imagine kissing anyone goodnight, but him.
He knows us. As our relationship matures we bring him to family functions and realize that he doesn't scare quite as easily as we'd previously assumed. He sits politely and converses withour uncle, whom has spent eight year sof his life in the Marine Corps, and relishes in the ability ro creat a sense of looming intimidation. He knows that our parents are divorced and doesn't judge us. He sees that we struggle to pay for school and doesn't turn up his nose and walk away. He actually brings a tear to our eye and warmth to our heart when he offers to help us pay for a semester's tuituion, until our parents stop arguing long enough to mail the check in. He sees the problems we so desperately tried to hide from him and he can't even understand why we've done that. Sometimes he asks us personal questions and sometimes we answer truthfully. He knows about the alcohol we grew up around and sees why we so despweately try to keep control over our habits. He knows why we firmly declare that our children will never retrieve a beer for thier father from the refigerator. He sees why we are so meticulous about everything that we do, because we never want to end up like our parents. We refrain from telling him absolutely everything becasue sometimes we don't even like to think these things ourselves. We never want to scream and argue with him the way that our parents did at each other. sometimes we want him to understand why we sometimes blow up at ihm for watching hours and hours or football. We want him to know that men that sit in front of sports games all day remind us so much of our Father that our rage grows inside of us until we want to scream a the top of out lungs and relinquish the fear pent up in our heart. We don't want to be like our parents, especially not with him.
He annoys us. He's messy, leaving piles of clothes in heaps on the floor, forgetting whiskers in the bathroom sink and dishes in the kitchen. He never eats candy or chips or cake because he claims that he'd rather eat a carrot. We love candy and eat it all the time and he tries to get us to be healthier and we laught. He cannot allow us to study in his presence because he simply cannot do so himself. He is a naturally intelligent individual whom wveryone would love to throttle. He panics, thinking that he will fail a final, and in the end recieves a ninety-eight percent. He insists that we never do anything that annoys him, which makes us want to kill him and kiss him in the same instance.
He loves us. He always asks us what we are thinking about and wants us to allow him into our innermost thoughts. We've grown close enough to realize that he would never leave us for some sleazy girl; he knows that it would hurt us far too much to ever be worth it. He promises us that he would never date anyone else in our circle of friends out of respect for us, and we believe him. We stop punishing him for our Father's mistakes and conscoiusly try not to mimic our Mother's mannerisms. We've broken the cycle and stop blaming ourselves for our imperfect childhood; we make an effort to leave our past behind us. He sometimes asks us how many kids we want, what cruise we'd like to go on, what state we want to live in. We see such curiosity in his eyes, a true understanding.
We know he's in it for the long haul. Sometimes that scares us and makes us question everything we are, but we never falter because we know he is sincere. We wonder if we're old enough to be feeling such an intense emotional connection to another human being. Unknown to him, despite ourself, we have placed out heart totally and completely in his hands. It is the little things that we will always cherish, the way he accepts us for who we really are, loving us despite our every flaw, the way he still opens doors, and take us on dates. The way he tucks our hair behind our ear when we study together and the way he wakes up periodically during the night (most likely to reclaim some of the blanket) and kisses our lips, ever so softly, when he thinks we are asleep. He once asked us if we thought we could ever imagine living with him, (after an appropriate anout of time elapsed) we answered him a thoughtgul, "yes," and we smiled as his eyes lit up, we thought to ourselves that one day when the time is right we will tell him, scream out to him, that it's not a question of being able to live with him- it's a question of being able to live without him.