I watched my roommate in the middle of the room making jokes. She was usually loud and funny, but at the moment she was hamming it up like a comedian at their first headlining show. In the year I'd known her, I had never seen her like this. I puzzled over why she was getting louder and funnier with every sentence, until I noticed where we were.
We were at a guy's house, a super cute guy's house, surrounded by his super cute roommates. My roommate and I were the only girls there. No wonder she had gone giddy-crazy. Two girls surrounded by seven hot guys. We had stumbled into a reverse harem. It was like a chocoholic finding a propped open door into Willie Wonka's factory.
Watching my roommate wallow in men, I sat quietly by, wondering about those men. They were all laughing, enjoying her hijinks. Did guys like loud, funny girls? Maybe I should be louder and funnier. My roommate dated way more than I did, and she was constantly telling me how to attract more guys.
"You're too shy," she said. "Why don't you just go up and talk to him?" "Want me to ask someone out for you?" "If you like someone, Just call him and ask him out. It's easy." "Invite him to go with you somewhere." All these suggestions sent shivers of horror down my spine.
Since I've never been the coolest cat on the block, I've always had a hard time with conversation, with everyone. If a stranger approaches me, even if it is a well meaning stranger who I'm sort of interested in getting to know, I clam up, my face turns red, I feel stupid, I don't know what to say, I want to stare at their face because I like faces, but that makes people uncomfortable, so I avoid looking at them, and when they ask me a direct question, I usually say something weird.
As I said before, I rarely dated. If I did accidentally end up on a date, it was all that awkwardness times one thousand. I preferred being dateless. Dating the right person should be easy, right? At least I hoped that was right.
As I watched my roommate work her dating magic, I wondered if my tactics for finding a mate were all wrong. How was I supposed to get married if I had a chronic and incurable case of weirdness and datephobia?
Many years passed where I assumed I was deformed inside because I was so relentlessly single. Then one dark winter evening, I met my future husband.
It was my first day at work and my new boss was introducing me to all my fellow co-workers. Introductions are always awkward, but since I'm such an awkward person, there is much more silence and feeling foolish on both parties.
Some people joked. Some people cringed in the awkward silence. Some people said, "It's nice meeting you," three or four times.
Then my new boss said, "And here is Mr. Sapphire Cat."
"Welcome aboard," my future husband said. I nodded as the silence came, but this silence didn't have the usual awkwardness, it was a peaceful ocean of silence we floated together for those five, infinite, seconds.
As me and my new boss walked away, I longed to stay in Mr. Sapphire Cat's peaceful raft of silence.
I still feel that way.
Mr. Sapphire Cat might not be the coolest guy around. He is also not the funniest, or the most outgoing, or even the hottest, and I wouldn't want him to be. I love him because we fall into sync without even trying. I love him because I feel more like myself with him than without him. I love him because I don't have to be anything but natural when we're together. I love him because he slid into my life and made himself at home without me noticing.
I believe that is how my finding Home will be.
We were at a guy's house, a super cute guy's house, surrounded by his super cute roommates. My roommate and I were the only girls there. No wonder she had gone giddy-crazy. Two girls surrounded by seven hot guys. We had stumbled into a reverse harem. It was like a chocoholic finding a propped open door into Willie Wonka's factory.
Watching my roommate wallow in men, I sat quietly by, wondering about those men. They were all laughing, enjoying her hijinks. Did guys like loud, funny girls? Maybe I should be louder and funnier. My roommate dated way more than I did, and she was constantly telling me how to attract more guys.
"You're too shy," she said. "Why don't you just go up and talk to him?" "Want me to ask someone out for you?" "If you like someone, Just call him and ask him out. It's easy." "Invite him to go with you somewhere." All these suggestions sent shivers of horror down my spine.
Since I've never been the coolest cat on the block, I've always had a hard time with conversation, with everyone. If a stranger approaches me, even if it is a well meaning stranger who I'm sort of interested in getting to know, I clam up, my face turns red, I feel stupid, I don't know what to say, I want to stare at their face because I like faces, but that makes people uncomfortable, so I avoid looking at them, and when they ask me a direct question, I usually say something weird.
As I said before, I rarely dated. If I did accidentally end up on a date, it was all that awkwardness times one thousand. I preferred being dateless. Dating the right person should be easy, right? At least I hoped that was right.
As I watched my roommate work her dating magic, I wondered if my tactics for finding a mate were all wrong. How was I supposed to get married if I had a chronic and incurable case of weirdness and datephobia?
Many years passed where I assumed I was deformed inside because I was so relentlessly single. Then one dark winter evening, I met my future husband.
It was my first day at work and my new boss was introducing me to all my fellow co-workers. Introductions are always awkward, but since I'm such an awkward person, there is much more silence and feeling foolish on both parties.
Some people joked. Some people cringed in the awkward silence. Some people said, "It's nice meeting you," three or four times.
Then my new boss said, "And here is Mr. Sapphire Cat."
"Welcome aboard," my future husband said. I nodded as the silence came, but this silence didn't have the usual awkwardness, it was a peaceful ocean of silence we floated together for those five, infinite, seconds.
As me and my new boss walked away, I longed to stay in Mr. Sapphire Cat's peaceful raft of silence.
I still feel that way.
Mr. Sapphire Cat might not be the coolest guy around. He is also not the funniest, or the most outgoing, or even the hottest, and I wouldn't want him to be. I love him because we fall into sync without even trying. I love him because I feel more like myself with him than without him. I love him because I don't have to be anything but natural when we're together. I love him because he slid into my life and made himself at home without me noticing.
I believe that is how my finding Home will be.