True Love

Okay, I have the tendency to pick the wrong guys, but now I hit the scales big time even by my standard.
I am completely and utterly in love with Alan. And to make things short, to get it out in the open right away: Alan loves John.

For weeks now I thought I will get over it. Sooner or later, every self-help-book, every so-called fortune-teller tells you the same, sooner or later you get over it. Well, it has to be later for me.

Alan is everything, but really he is no fairy tale, he is everything I never thought to fall in love with.
First he is really kind of smart this is a new twist to all these dumb guys in a row before him. Then he is blonde, a Clairol blonde for God’s sake, as he’s recently confessed to me. He has a small nose and a round face almost a baby-face really. He isn’t even tall and skinnier than me. But then what did me? It had to be his eyes. No sky, no ocean comes close to this incredible blue colour, nothing besides the colour of this reference book I have since 5th grade and which I schlep around the world no matter what.

His eyes – I just can stare into them, I just can give them all my attention - his eyes are everything.
And then his sunny, cheerful mood! He actually likes what he is doing, he likes every minute of his life, every second even, he smiles into you, he smiles, his eyes roam over you, and all my brain cells can do nothing besides singing “yes”.

We work together and my sales have increased considerably since he’s around.
I really never liked all this “And what can I get you today?” attitude. I always thought working there is about fighting fierce enemies and I was usually very pissed if they wanted more than one item. But now I can’t help myself. He stands next to me and I smile and I assure and I even ask if I can get them more. Is this true love?

True love hurts that I know for sure. I’d rather get my wisdom teeth pulled out over and over again, rather that then sitting across from him in the break room, staring into his eyes and hearing about what John said and what he didn’t, what John likes and what he doesn’t.

Isn’t that what true love is about? Love in the sense of giving and caring and supporting? Okay, okay, but what about leaning and holding and leaning more?

So when Vic asks me out, I go. I have to go. I just have to.

What about if you get kissed by a guy the whole night and if you kiss back and if you close your eyes really tight? Do you think you can pretend? Pretend it’s him?

Well you can but it is definitely not him. His tongue is too thick, his jokes are too loud. But it feels good to lie in somebody’s arms. At least somebody wants me. This somebody has his hands everywhere and like too much booze. But he is fun and I want to be funny so I drink and I kiss till 5 am.

The next day I look like shit at least in my opinion. My eyes burn, my hair is doing waves and holes like a battle field.
I hop on the bus to work and there is Alan and my heart goes soft and cushy and mellow and I wish for this pit in the floor, dematerialize me, now!

Bella, he cries, look at you! And he gets so excited I can only stare at him with my burning eyes.
Look at you! You got laid!
I wish I had I think but say, NO, NO WAY!

But you did, he smiles and smiles and points at my scarf. He fiddles with it and looks in admiration at these big blue marks which I know are there almost like a rotten Ball Pentel on a sheet of white paper but not quite.
You must be real tired, he says, lean on me. And there in the stinking bus downtown to work my head lays at his chest and he smiles into me because I kissed my brains out.
Is this true love? Is this?

I still think about it on my way home, at night, after work, alone and tired to the bone.

It starts raining the minute I get off the bus, not only raining, pouring.
Is true love only about a man and a woman? Okay I can’t imagine really love a fish or a staircase but I could easily love a sweater, a dog, an attitude.
Can you truly love a man who is not?

I get so wet it’s unbelievable. The shops on my way home are all closed but the Miscellaneous Store forgot an umbrella rack in front of it. Without thinking I take one.

It is one of these monstrous umbrellas for a party-of-two, one of those love-bugs, and it’s really difficult to hold on to it in all this rain and wind.
But I do. I do hold on to it although it seems I can’t get any wetter. I hold on to it and I am wet and I am cold and I am tired and today I was in his arms and my head was on his chest and he smiled at me and he admired me and he even said it to me.