The Girl In Black

The girl in black was very pretty. Her long curly hair tumbled off her shoulders and fell down the back side of her chair, but that's all I could see from where I was. All the same, it was enough reason for me to take the long route to the coffee machine, passing by her chair, a few minutes later. Yes, she is pretty. Especially when she laughs.

You know nothing special is going to happen by simply walking past somebody's seat, but it's something most of us have done. And as stupid as it sounds, the walk usually ends with a contented smile. Worryingly enough, it's not something that happens to me too often. I know quite a few lads who can end every single walk with that smile and sometimes I envy them.

I've often wondered what it is which brings those smiles to our faces: is cuteness a function of how people look or is it more about the little things that they do... What about the other aspects - how can someone I find irresistibly attractive be somebody else's Jane Doe? How do we each arrive upon an entirely different set of parameters? It's a completely different story that the solution to your complex set of equations is probably not your answer but you're always looking for that solution, aren't you?

You won't settle for anything lesser than that. You will not consider it. She has to be pretty and she ought to have done a lot of things you consider cool. She needs to make you laugh, but you want her to cry every so often. It's no fun otherwise. You want her to be all ladylike and still be completely awesome when you're together in a bar with your friends. She almost doesn't exist. It's probably why I don't want to get close to people I consider nice; I'm afraid the glass will shatter.

The problem is only exacerbated when you've lived like a nomad for your entire life! When you really don't belong to any one place, what you need is the empathy of a fellow Bedouin. You start finding some things your old pals say rather inane... And some other things, you simply don't understand! You've not become any cooler, or smarter for that matter. You're just different. You're a bit like everyone and yet no one is like you.

Tomorrow, I'll walk past her seat again. And then, I'll say something to her. Maybe not tomorrow, but sometime soon. It scares the hell out of me.

Maybe I should stop drinking so much coffee.