"If I knew all the words, I would write myself out of here." MRAZ

Friday, August 29, 2008

flowers from my girlfriend

So, there's this girl.
I met her at work.
And we fell in love discussing the similarities between egg rolls and empanadas. There was this amazing moment of spark. Nothing was ever actually said- it was just a moment that passed when we both knew that we were completely interested in each other. And after that moment, we couldn't get enough of each other's opinion. We decided to take this interest outside of work; and had lunch. I dressed up. I knew she would notice. She did. We talked- and found out that we had NOTHING in common. And yet, that didn't seem to lessen the interest. She paid. I felt like we were on a date. It felt weird. She asked me, "what is a girl like you doing in a life like yours?" I wondered the same thing.

And then, things turned.
She became obsessive. There was this continual "things left unsaid" feeling about our conversations. She started to visit my work area several times a night. I was frustrated. I lashed out, "I can't talk. I am here to work." She backed off. We didn't talk. We broke up. Our "out for ice cream" outing was rain checked. I felt bad. I asked myself how old I was and why I didn't have more social grace to handle the situation more smoothly.

I put in my 2 weeks notice. She found out.
She started reaching out again. Sending me notes: U LOOK GOOD 2DAY.
The day before my last, an amazing boquet of flowers was delivered to my office. No name on the card. I felt like I was living in the movie, Bed of Roses. I called the flower shop to find out who paid the bill. No luck- got a machine. Life in the movies is always easier. As soon as I realized there wasn't a name, I knew who they were from. I wasn't the only one who thought so. She came in to admire them. I cornered her. She confessed. I challenged her not to be ashamed or underhanded about such an amazing gift. She said, "The galaxy that lives inside your eyes was in need of a brand new shining light." I melted.

I don't know where I go from here.
But I can't help but be flattered. It is nice to feel pursued, so wanted.
It is amazing that someone else thinks I am special and wants to make sure that I feel that way. And goes out of her way to make me feel that way.
Now, if only she could say that aloud, so that I could properly reject such an admission or invitation.

I am keeping the flowers. They are amazing; and I LOVE fresh cut flowers.
Maybe Katy Perry isn't so crazy after all.

1 comment:

katie said...

You totally sucked me into this "story". I don't know whether you are being fictional or not (you're just that good!) but I loved it! And of course I can see how anyone who knows you loves you.