Musing; Heartstrings
She was on her way to meet Guy. She had managed to convince him to allow her come to him. She said, being a working day, her husband would not be able to come with her and she also didn’t want Guy to get stuck in traffic in a town he was not familiar with. The traffic light stopped her. She engaged the brakes and relaxed. Those 90 seconds were like an eternity of bliss.
She remembered the first time she told him she loved him. It was not an ephemeral utterance. She grew in love, she didn’t fall in love. She remembered the first time she saw him, she wanted to move as far away from him as she possibly could. She just did not like him, he didn’t appeal to her. He was not the person she had been seeing in her dreams, simple. How could someone she had exchanged correspondence with for so long be this person she was seeing? In her mind, this was hello and good bye!
But she was wrong. He was persistent, he knew what he wanted and he stuck with it. She watched him, she listened to him, she studied him, she picked his brain and . . . she grew into loving him. And she loved him. From then on, thoughts of him melted her insides. His voice sent her feet into a state of intermingling. She almost could not stay an hour without communicating with him. She was like one on cocaine and marijuana cocktail – he had her on a permanent high. She was always smiling, always having talks with him in her head. Her heart was always singing, sometimes overflowing from her lips. He sharpened her creative thinking ad writing, she could write volumes for him and not run out. He engaged her in cerebral discussions and plans, not the shallow talks and nothings she had heard from not one of the others trying to gain her attention. She respected his intelligence. She loved the way he always had her on her toes intellectually. He was just the right one for her, though not in the package she would have preferred. But, what did the package matter, as much as the content? She thought.
Before him, just one other person had had that effect on her. See, she was not the conventional stiletto wearing female. She likes crop and combat trousers, she likes boyfriend and box legged jeans. She likes free tops, t-shirts and sneakers. She likes Tundra like vehicles, not the girly sports like ones. She thought with her head, not her heart, most of the time. Sometimes, it bothered her, and the other times she loved herself just as she was. She didn’t like the complications that accompanied being frilly, pink, talkative, dressy, ooh-ing and ah-ing over everything. She liked her life as it was.
So, for a long time, she never thought of the opposite sex the way those of hers did. She had many of them as friends, but there was no special one. She didn’t think she needed the exclusivity. So, when he started having the fluttery tummy effect on her, she paused to take it all in. What was happening to her? So this was what it meant to have The Special One?
There were repeated blasts of differing pitches. Some were high, some were low, some shrill, some deep. Then voices accompanied them. They were shouting from all around her. She jolted into the now. Angry motorists were all around dishing out pieces of their minds, unreined. She engaged the drive gear, released the brakes and pumped the throttle. Was this safe for her? Should she be behind the wheels in this state? What had taken her down the road she just travelled? Guy.
She knew Guy well enough to know that though he cared deeply for her, he would not make her do anything wrong. He was fond of hugging her warmly, but that was where it ended. Since she signed the marriage register, however, he reduced the warm bear hug to a brief side bump. She missed his hugs. She missed having physical contact with her man. She missed the carefree way Guy related with her prior to that signature. But she respected that he respected her enough to put some distance between them. He was still one of her closest friends, one of those she was certain had her back, come storm or high waters.
Sigh!
She remembered the first time she told him she loved him. It was not an ephemeral utterance. She grew in love, she didn’t fall in love. She remembered the first time she saw him, she wanted to move as far away from him as she possibly could. She just did not like him, he didn’t appeal to her. He was not the person she had been seeing in her dreams, simple. How could someone she had exchanged correspondence with for so long be this person she was seeing? In her mind, this was hello and good bye!
But she was wrong. He was persistent, he knew what he wanted and he stuck with it. She watched him, she listened to him, she studied him, she picked his brain and . . . she grew into loving him. And she loved him. From then on, thoughts of him melted her insides. His voice sent her feet into a state of intermingling. She almost could not stay an hour without communicating with him. She was like one on cocaine and marijuana cocktail – he had her on a permanent high. She was always smiling, always having talks with him in her head. Her heart was always singing, sometimes overflowing from her lips. He sharpened her creative thinking ad writing, she could write volumes for him and not run out. He engaged her in cerebral discussions and plans, not the shallow talks and nothings she had heard from not one of the others trying to gain her attention. She respected his intelligence. She loved the way he always had her on her toes intellectually. He was just the right one for her, though not in the package she would have preferred. But, what did the package matter, as much as the content? She thought.
Before him, just one other person had had that effect on her. See, she was not the conventional stiletto wearing female. She likes crop and combat trousers, she likes boyfriend and box legged jeans. She likes free tops, t-shirts and sneakers. She likes Tundra like vehicles, not the girly sports like ones. She thought with her head, not her heart, most of the time. Sometimes, it bothered her, and the other times she loved herself just as she was. She didn’t like the complications that accompanied being frilly, pink, talkative, dressy, ooh-ing and ah-ing over everything. She liked her life as it was.
So, for a long time, she never thought of the opposite sex the way those of hers did. She had many of them as friends, but there was no special one. She didn’t think she needed the exclusivity. So, when he started having the fluttery tummy effect on her, she paused to take it all in. What was happening to her? So this was what it meant to have The Special One?
She knew Guy well enough to know that though he cared deeply for her, he would not make her do anything wrong. He was fond of hugging her warmly, but that was where it ended. Since she signed the marriage register, however, he reduced the warm bear hug to a brief side bump. She missed his hugs. She missed having physical contact with her man. She missed the carefree way Guy related with her prior to that signature. But she respected that he respected her enough to put some distance between them. He was still one of her closest friends, one of those she was certain had her back, come storm or high waters.
Sigh!
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