[He acts a bit weird sometimes when it's just he and I; like he'll get really quiet for a while and then pull me into this really tight hug (like he doesn't want me to go hug).] Maybe the truth to this statement is that I don't want him to let me go. It's a mixture of emotions. My initial reaction to these hugs are ones of surprise, I'm never sure what to do but to hug him back.
[They have a drink called Anne Rice that I can't wait to get because, just like her books, I'll probably never finish it.] So there's this cafe that I've been itching to go to, but the only thing that's stopping me is myself. Honestly I don't think I'm cool enough to go there just yet, it doesn't feel right. Right now I'm not where I want to be, I'm not who I want to be just yet. I want to go there the new and improved Tyka, with 2 piercing, and really cool looking scarves. Before you know it I'll be smoking Marlboro 27’s on occasion. I'll have cool friends who know things, and we can share our knowledge. All of a sudden my random bits of information won't be useless. They'll be life changing. Before I know it people will be reading my blogs, and I'd go there to write them.
I'll meet a really nice guy there. He'll be tall and wear glasses. He'll be sweet and enjoy nice conversations; he'll love my hair. We'll sit and talk about things like our favorite authors and what we enjoy doing when we aren't beating dead horses. We'd swap music libraries and be amazed at how similar our music tastes are. One day he'll buy me an Ernest Hemmingway. I'll come on poetry night and he'll get on stage for the first time. Shaking and nervous he'll rattle off three simple lines:
Her curls make me smile,
Her lush lips make me quiver,
Her eyes set in mine.
I'll clap, as everyone else snaps. One day, he'll come and pick me up from school and he'll meet my ex. Hand around my waist, he'll smile and be kind, and kiss my forehead letting him know "she's mine". We'd walk away, hand and hand. His insecurities will mirror my own; we’ll both suffer from an inner love hate relationship. He’ll know just what to say at all the wrong times, and occasion get it right. We’ll forget promises we made to each other, but remember everything insignificant. His timing will be just as horrible as mine, and together we’ll laugh too soon and every once in a while five minutes late.
Together we can walk like slackers with a place to go, yet no where we really need to be. I’ll have a small green dinosaur on my wrist; he’ll have one on his waist just above the hip bone, because that’s my favorite spot. We’d hang out on campus and together make our through all the fruit smoothies on the menu at Robeks. Afterward we’d go back to where it all began. We'll be a match made in heaven.
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