He stared at me with such intensity that I was almost certain he knew what I looked like naked; though, I’d never actually undressed for him. I was staring at him, too.
I’d always wanted to fall in love but, I never really believed it would happen.
For one, I was old, well in to my twenties, in fact, and never seemed to make it past that fluttery butterflies stage with any particular guy. And two, I sort of hated dating. It was an awful dance. He pretended that he was actually more interested in my mind than my body and I had to pretend to be “Stepford Wives.”
You know, I acted as if I was this really sweet girl, who was always pleasant and never annoyed by the asinine things he said or did. And I despised having to pretend, because while I am absolutely darling, I’m also pretty quick to call people out on the stupid, moronic and half-witted things they say.
This guy was about as moronic as they came. He kept cutting me off and disagreeing with all of my opinions. I was trying my hardest to remain nice. I kept batting my eyes and replying “I never thought of it like that” to every simple-minded thing he said. He wasn’t my first annoying date, so I thought I could fake it until the evening was over. Plus, he was sort of my type; tall, with an easy smile, so I was really hoping this just a little early turbulence. But when this dude suggested that I’d be more attractive if I wore less make-up, well, that.was.it.
“Who do you think you’re speaking to?,” I bellowed as I began to unload my true feelings about every one of the idiotic things he’d ever uttered. I mean, I really let him have it. Once I “went there,” I fully expected him to never want to see me again and I was more than okay with that. But that’s when something unusual happened; he wasn’t offended by me, he was actually swooning.
I admit, I had no idea what to think. I’d dropped the fake, sweet girl act but he still liked me. That had never happened before. Typically, I’d drop the act, be myself and the guy–completely frightened by the strong personality that lurked beneath the Stepford Wives surface– would flee for the hills. But this guy seemed really into me. And then something even more remarkable happened; he let his guard down, too, and revealed himself to me. And then I was swooning because he was actually very sweet!
I told him my hopes, he told me his dreams. We whispered our secrets and lamented over our fears. We talked for hours, and then suddenly, there wasn’t a word left to say. We just stared at one another in silence.
He got me. He understood who I really was. Around him, I could be myself completely (straight, no Stepford) and he still liked me. He could look in my eyes and tell I felt the same. That was electric; it was jaw-dropping, heart-stopping, and toe-curing.
It was love.
Sylvia Snowden is a fabulous Chicago-based journalist and the President of Always Onyx. Follow Sylvia on Twitter @TrulySylvia
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