She Loved Corn
2013 and 2014 were some big years for me. In those two years I struck my best marks in high school, rising above the Honor Roll to the High Honor Roll. My final grade on the Senior Project—mine was a comprehensive review on the history of war crimes and crimes against humanity and how the United Nations could curtail them in the future—was a full A. I was even the Student of the Year in the Subject of History, something I was very proud of. To this day, I still haven’t read the gift that came with that award: Benét’s Reader’s Encyclopedia: Fifth Edition. Sometimes, when I glance at my massive blue bookshelf, I see its maroon jacket and the miniature image of a young man in a long coat and shako with his head bent over a book.
It was in this time frame I suffered my first two true heartbreaks. The first was in 2013, after a tantalizing and tumultuous courtship of a girl in the class ahead of me. She was short, brown-haired, wore glasses, pursued art, and had an issue with acne. For a time, she crushed on me, but I was too thick to realize. Then, I pined for her while she slowly manipulated me and wore me around her finger to attend functions and dances she was no longer permitted by the school to attend on her own. The second was my first romantic relationship in my entire life, which lasted for the latter half of 2013 and into 2014, just as I graduated. At first, it was fun and comforting. But month after month of dealing with perhaps the most negative person I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting, I broke up with her in a way I’m still ashamed of. Too ashamed to share here.
Those years were some of the last I spent with my best friends. Since then, I haven’t seen or spoken to the majority of them. Both groups, in fact, as I had one cadre of close friends who graduated several years ahead of me and another clique who carried over from junior high school. I don’t expect to see most of them again and in the best efforts to maintain the simplicity of my life, I should hope not to. As well, those were the last years I still possessed an affection and proclivity for academics. College would swiftly strike those notions down.
I’ve aged and matured enough to reconcile the events of these years. Whatever emotion I once felt for them has since subsided to the reality that these were learning experiences of my youth and, while beneficial, did not define my life. Of course, like anything happening at the moment, those were some of the biggest actions of my life up to that point. Now, much more interesting and dynamic events have taken place.
But there is one aspect I am draw back on, more than anything else from those years, something I've yet to reconcile: a girl who loved corn.
Some of us have an affinity for sweet delicacies; donuts, cookies, chocolate, ice cream and the like. Others prefer salt, or cheese, or all of the above if you happen to be myself. And while I do hanker for corn on the cob in the summertime, my love of the yellow substance was dwarfed by a friend I made in the waning months of the 2013 school year.
She was about as tall as me, liked to wear black tank tops, olive drab cargo shorts, plaid button-downs, and sneakers. Her hair was jet black and her eyes a sort of brown-green as far as I can remember them. She was a talented artist as well—how strange so many of the women in my life were pursuers of the arts in one way or the other—and preferred to draw in the manga style. Like me, she was a lover of anime, although she tended to like more popular ones that I shied away from. Pokémon was one of them; for my eighteenth birthday she drew me as Geodude. But, because I was one of about three boys in the school with fully developed facial hair, and the first one out of that trio, a mutual friend called me Beardodude. It stuck and if you’d like to know just what Beardodude looks like, don’t think too hard: it’s Geodude with a beard. I still have the picture. However, she equated me with Cubone, the sad ground-type Pokemon that wears the skull of its deceased mother. Fits in line with my general motif, I suppose; most people I’ve met have commented I maintain a rather sad exterior.
Back to my friend. Sometimes she wore a necklace and she often wore a wristwatch, which struck me because she was the only girl in high school I ever saw wear one. She never wore her hair in a ponytail, always down, and it came all the way down to just below shoulder-blade length. Very thick and mostly straight, although the locks around her face tended to get a little wavy. It wasn’t anything she tried to do, it just sort of happened naturally. Very cool, very stylish.
I remember her cheekbones being a little rounded but the cheeks themselves being flat. Her lips weren’t thick but they were neither thin, striking a subtle balance with the bottom lip being a little more plump. Her legs were rather long and her thighs were quite strong, although she didn’t play sports of any kind. A girl after my own heart! Overall, her shape was an amalgamation of a pear and a subtle hourglass.
And she was down-to-earth. Truly so, unlike anybody else I’ve ever known. She was utterly calm and unnerved by very little. Although, she could start laughing and get excited or fed up just like any of us. To boot, she was one of the funniest people I ever met. Her sense of humor was a blend of dry observation, sarcasm, and nonsensical oddities. Another side of her was a sensitivity to others and a quiet understanding of people. This I experienced in a more subtle way in the aftermath of my first, ridiculous attempt at love. She was intelligent, a good student who metered book smarts with common sense. Logical, reasonable, and just good. I wish there was a better way to put it, but just a good-natured, kind person.
And her favorite food was corn. Corn on the cob, specifically. I didn’t realize right away, of course. Our friendship budded because we both had mutual friends and once in a while we would happen to be in the same study room around lunch time. It was really just the computer lab run by our favorite teacher and we would go there to duck out of eating in the lunchroom or to have a snack during our study time. We sat in the same row but always one chair apart. We talked a lot, mostly about video games, my writing, her art, anime, some general stuff going on in the school.
I don’t exactly remember how but we got on the subject of Game of Thrones. She hadn’t watched any of the episodes as her family didn’t have HBO. However, we did have HBO and we were all caught with the show. So we talked and eventually I invited her to chill out at my place to watch a few episodes. At the time, she had obtained her drive's license and often drove a Jeep. So she moseyed on over to my place after school, usually later in the week. You see, the homework situation for the weekend was usually heavy for the majority of the year. But, as we neared summer vacation and the school year carried into late June, teachers lightened the weekend workload to give us a break.
From there, we began watching Game of Thrones, usually a few episodes at a time. Most of the time we played video games afterwards. I say we but she just insisted on watching me play video games rather than taking up a controller. I was perfectly contented on showing her my extensive gaming library; Halo Wars, which she teased me about as boring, Dead Space which she didn’t find scary because I was so competent with the game, Metro: 2033 and Metro: Last Light, both of which scared her despite how good I was, Minecraft: Xbox 360 Edition which she made fun of me about because she played it on PC and claimed the 360 edition was a hand-holder. Then, we’d break for dinner, watch a couple more episodes, and then she went home for the evening. Sometimes, she’d come over four times a week; sometimes she was around every single weekend and would stay a little bit later.
At first, she didn’t stay for dinner but after a couple visits she felt comfortable enough to stick around. Summertime is the best time of year to buy corn on the cob in my neck of the woods even though you can buy it year round. What my mother used to do was cut the cobs in half so there’d be about a dozen of the things and dump them into a huge yellow bowl. That bowl was placed in the center of the table with a set of blue handled tongs. You could have as many as you want but most people preferred just to have two at the most to balance out their meals.
Because my brother was generally away and my father worked nights, it was just her, me, and my mom on weekdays. We’d have a lot of fun conversations because my mother happened to be an enjoyer of Game of Thrones and many anime films as well. One night, there was more corn on the cob than usual. By the time the three of us had the customary two per person, there were still about six left in the bowl.
“Excuse me,” she asked shyly, “is it alright if I have two more?”
“Oh, of course!” my mother said before the conversation resumed. My friend proceeded to devour two more while we helped ourselves to more mac and cheese or whatever meat was being served. When she finished, blushing, she looked at the table.
“Would it be alright if I had two more?”
“Aren’t you full?” I asked, laughing.
“Have as much as you want,” my mother insisted.
She proceeded to eat the remaining six cobs. My mother and I were absolutely stunned. We peered into the huge yellow bowl and then at her plate. She didn’t just nibble on them, she cleaned them, even the little rows near the ends that are smaller and not as much fun to eat.
“I didn’t realize corn was your favorite food,” was all I managed to say.
From then on, every time she came over, my mother served corn on the cob. I think it was because she was utterly fascinated by how much corn this girl ate rather than wanting to provide a well-rounded meal. One time she purposefully served more corn on the cob than ever before so there were somewhere between twelve and fourteen cobs left. We expected the usual polite and courteous, ‘would it be alright if I ate some more?’ But she shocked us even further.
“Hey, we’re going to watch more Game of Thrones, right?’
She turned to my mother.
“Would it be alright if I took the bowl with me?”
Mom looked at me, trying to mask her amused stupor, and nodded.
“I mean, yeah, go ahead, you do you.”
There’s no way she can eat that much, I thought to myself. I didn’t watch the next episode at all. She and I were sitting side by side, shoulder to shoulder on my bed, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. For the next hour, she proceeded to eat all of the corn! It might not be shocking to you but to me it was a superhuman feat! That much corn in that much time and she wasn’t full nor did she get sick! It was astounding.
She quickly became aware of my amazement.
“Um, you’re staring. Do I have something on me? Did corn go down my shirt?”
“How can you eat so much corn!?”
“What!? I dunno man, I just love corn so much! It’s so frigging delicious!”
“You didn’t even butter or salt them!”
“Bro, corn is perfectly tasty without butter or salt.”
“Come on, why do you like it so much?”
“I’unno man, it’s just good.”
“What’s your bathroom situation like?”
“Dude, I gotta know!”
“It’s fine, man.”
“Are you sure about that? I mean, you do look in the toilet afterwards, right?” We all do that, don’t kid yourself. If you say you’ve never looked into the toilet after you’ve finished, you’re a bold-faced liar.
“Yeah man, what do I look like?” she said, feigning annoyance and moving her head from side to side. “Course’ I look at mah poop. It’s not weird. What, do you want to look at it now?”
“Hell no!” Even I have my limits.
We had more corn during the summer of 2013 than I can ever remember and she ate the majority of it. On the weekends when my dad and brother were home, they too marveled at her incredible powers of corn consumption. It rapidly became an in-joke and one my friend was perfectly happy with.
She became a rather permanent sight at my house. You see, she was a senior when I was a junior, so school ended earlier for her than it did for me. Eventually, she began picking me up at school and driving me home, whereupon we would conduct the ritual of watching Game of Thrones, playing games, and eating dinner with my family. Oh, you should of heard her during some of the episodes of the show!
“Whhhhhaaaaat!? No freeeeaaaakiiinnnnggg way! Stop laughing at me, this is tragic, this is an actual tragedy happening before our eyes!”
Sometimes we wouldn’t even watch Game of Thrones, instead of putting on an anime flick or some other movie. Sometimes we eventually stopped watching and gaming and just laid next to each other on my bed, chatting about life.
I asked her several times if she wanted me to come over sometime. She always refused, saying we wouldn’t have as much fun at her place as mine. If I remember correctly, she had more siblings than I did and I think she was worried we wouldn’t have any privacy. That year, I made the mistake of going to the 2013 senior class graduation to see the girl I shouldn’t have been crushing on. But I made sure to see my friend to give her a congratulations and a big hug. I remember her asking me if I wanted to hang but I was after the other girl, you see. Big mistake. Going to see her and her alone wouldn’t have made the day so disappointing for me. Nonetheless, I was very happy and proud to see her walking across the stage.
One time she even came with me to a family get-together. For some reason, my mom asked me to ask her if she wanted to come. It wasn’t anything special; it was no one’s birthday nor was it a holiday. Really, it was just a cookout with my father’s side of the family who we rarely saw. Figuring she’d say no, I told her about it and she agreed to come with me. Her mother dropped her off; her mother was from South Korea and spoke English fluently but with just a little bit of an accent. My mom and her liked one another quickly.
“Just try not to stay out too late and don’t drink too much,” her mother joked, which made us laugh. My friend just rolled her eyes. I remember what she wore that day; a black tank top and a knee-length skirt with a blue and white pattern on it. She brought a brown purse-handbag kind of thing with a strap. Her hair was perfectly brushed and shone in the sunlight. And she wore Vans; she always wore those kind of sneakers. Thankfully, my father and mother went ahead of us and told my family she wasn’t my girlfriend so there weren’t any, ‘so how long have you two been dating,’ questions. We had a good time, associating mostly with my two cousins who were around our age. Everyone laughed a lot, including my friend although she was glued to my hip the whole time. Hey, I would have stayed close, too.
“Do you like going to friends’ parties like that?” I asked after the party was over.
“Oh, I’ve never done stuff like that with my other friends besides birthdays n’ stuff," she told me. "I don’t hang with their fam’s like that.”
“Why’d you come with, then?”
“I’unno. Seemed cool.”
We got along splendidly. Not once did we disagree, argue, or debate. Both of us laughed a lot, we knew just how to get the other one busting at the gut. As it turned out, we liked a lot of the same films, games, and books. We found it funny that despite sharing many friends we hadn't ever really talked that much before. Our goals in life were similar; pursue the arts, forge a career in our respective fields, be kind to people, and work hard. We had a lot of good times. Of course, one of my favorite parts on those days and evenings together was when we finished watching enough of our show. “I want to watch you play video games now.”
“Don’t you want to try something out? Or play with me?” I’d ask, offering a controller.
“No,” she would pout. “I wanna watch you play.”
My bed was queen-sized and the frame possessed a tall headboard. I stacked a lot of pillows against it so we could sit up comfortably. I also have an affinity for soft blankets and apparently so did she, because she would take one, wrap herself in it, and then curl into a ball pressed up beside me. Sometimes we’d chatter, other times she’d listen to me talk, sometimes she’d talk more, or sometimes we were just very quiet together. I can still hear her shrieks when spider-monsters would attack me in Metro: Last Light. “Eek! Kill’em, kill’em! Dude, hurry up and shoot them! Oh my god, oh my god, I hate their scuttling sound! Ah, use the knife! Right analog, right analog, quick! Yeeeaaah!”
When we weren’t hanging out, we’d text quite often. Just shooting the breeze with someone you get along with, you know? Somebody who makes you feel better when you talk to them in any capacity. She was somebody who I could talk to about little things and big things all in the same conversation. I sort of freewheel between those two poles; my few friends could tell you that.
We were pretty good buds. She was super comfortable in my house and never felt the need for me to chaperone her around like both of my future girlfriends would. She’d get snacks on her own, stop to play with my big white dog whom she loved very much, pop her head into my brother’s room to chat with him for a sec, talk to my mom if she was in the kitchen, and I think she even took a shower once. Honestly, I think she was a little too comfortable in the house. Sometimes she’d slide under the same blanket as me and other times she wouldn’t wear too much clothing. I remember once, with a great deal of embarrassment, how she bent over to pet my dog. That day she had taken off her bra or decided not to wear one because it was uncomfortable and she was wearing one of her looser tank tops. I saw a little bit more than I should have and, out of embarrassment, I turned my gaze upwards and became quite acquainted with the ceiling for the next several moments.
Looking back now, I realize we were much closer than I thought we were at the time. There was one day that stands out very strongly to me. Her father had not been a part of her life since she was born. That summer, he wished to reconnect with her. My friend was not too enthused about it because she had grown up well enough without a father figure in her life. But, she agreed to have lunch with him anyway. I can’t remember if it was a Saturday or Sunday, but my gut is telling me it was probably the latter. I was enjoying my day, playing video games in between some writing attempts, when my phone lit up with a text from her. She wasn’t asking for a rescue or anything, but she was writing to tell me how awkward it was going. There wasn’t a strong sense of desperation in the language of the texts at all but I could tell she was very uncomfortable. She kept saying things like, ‘he just keeps asking me weird questions that I don’t know how to answer,’ ‘I don’t know what to talk about with him,’ ‘I can barely talk right now,’ and, ‘I really want this to be over.’
I did my best to cheer her up and tried to give her some tips for talking points just to smooth things out. After we texted for a little bit, she seemed somewhat more at ease and was able to finish the day gracefully enough. That evening she came over to hang out.
“Did you text your mom about it?”
“I only texted you about it.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked her as she climbed onto the bed next to me.
“No,” she said as she curled up under a blanket and snuggled up beside me.
“Want to watch a show or a movie?”
“No,” she said as she began eating some corn from the bowl.
“...want to watch me play games?”
“Any game.” I started to get up but she caught my shoulder. “Just one that isn’t boring.”
I think I chose an exciting one but she still dozed for a little while. That night, I walked out with her to her car instead of just walking her down the front porch and waving goodbye. We hugged goodbye. We actually hugged somewhat often, but never in greeting, always in parting.
So, I hear you wondering, what became of her? Well, at the end of the summer, I started dating another mutual friend of ours: the negative girl I mentioned way earlier. My friend went to college while I finished my final year of high school. We kept in touch to a degree but we were both very busy. Because my girlfriend was also a freshman in college and I didn’t get to see her too often, we used the vacation time to spend with one another. My friend and I didn’t spend any of it together. As it turns out, she was finally dating the boy she had been crushing on for some time.
Is that not what you wanted to hear? If you’re disappointed, you aren’t the only one. My mother was extremely disappointed when I informed her, quite happily, that she was dating her crush.
“I was hoping you two would go out...” she sulked.
Of course, that was hard for me to hear because I was dating my first girlfriend at the time and with that one comment I realized my parents didn’t like her. Funnily enough, my friend was the only girl I ever brought into my house or my life, really, that my parents ever completely approved of. Everyone else was deemed unworthy of their baby boy in some way shape or form. To this day, my mother still tells me she wished I asked her out. Maybe even more surprising to you is the fact that, during this whole experience, not once did I have any romantic interest in her. You would think that I, the young, impressionable, very shy, anxious, incredibly socially awkward boy that I was and still very much am, would be swept off my feet by such an incredible young lady! It was storybook material, like she was cut from the same mold that created the Manic Pixie Dream Girl archetype. But no, not once did I have any interest in her. She was just my good buddy and I was happy to have her.
Ah, and the boy she was crushing on. He was a very tall, lanky fellow who played sports. He was one of the few kids in the class ahead of me that wasn't a total jerkwad. My friend wasn't crazy about him in the way most of us are regarding teenage crushes, but she super liked him. They were friends but she hadn’t worked up the courage to speak to him about it. I don’t know if he reciprocated those feelings at the time. More than likely, he was like most of us who are friends with a person who has a crush on us: we’re completely unaware, much to their aggravation. I don’t know who approached who first and who asked who out first, but either way, they ended up together. I don't remember his name. I remember hers, of course, but I like to keep it to myself.
I can’t exactly remember the last time she and I spoke. I think she might have been one of the many people who texted or emailed me regarding my hasty breakup with my first girlfriend around my graduation, roughly a year later. At first, she only had one side of the story but understood and even supported my decision, deplorable as the execution was. I think she was also one of the two or three people who informed me of my ex’s desperate pleas for them to talk to me to try and get back together. None of them attempted that, thankfully.
And that was the last time we ever well and truly communicated. Now, about seven years later, I haven’t spoken to her, seen her, or heard anything about her. We’re not even friends on popular social media outlets, which is fine by me because I’m trying to extricate myself from those.
I don’t think about her all that often as well as those two years altogether. But when I do hark back to them, it’s her I think about. Even my mother still talks about her and her strange but adorable love for corn. We still laugh about that but of course I tend to get annoyed because she follows it up with, “Gosh, Zackary, you should have really gone out with her.”
“Yeah, I know, Mom.”
“You and her were so cute together.”
“I know, Mom.”
“She would have been a much better girlfriend than the first one you—”
“I get it, Mom.”
“You probably would’ve gotten married.”
Of course, with two failed relationships and a couple of other botched attempts under my belt, I can’t help but wonder what it would have been like to be with her. I was so fond of her it’s almost strange how my friendly affection never evolved further. It perplexes me. I sit and wonder, wonder if our matching personalities would have held up under the daunting umbrella of the term, ‘romantic relationship.’ I often doubt it. But then I come back to certain aspects of the whole affair. Why did she reach out to me and only me during that difficult day with her father? Why did she insist on picking me up from school so often? She always tried to refuse gas money, too, even though I saved up plenty of cash just for her. Why did she agree to come to a random family day? There was nothing special about it, she wasn’t expected to join us, nor required, or anyway obliged. Yet she came along and even dressed up much nicer than she had to. She walked around my house with great liberty, more liberty than any friend or romantic partner ever has. And she was always very close to me. Shoulder to shoulder, curled up beside me, her head against my thigh, face to face as we laid next to each other talking, barely any space between our noses. Was that something she could only do with me or only do in my home?
She liked someone else but was there something I missed? You tell me. Was she uncertain about what she wanted to do? If I had said something, would that have made things awkward between us or would it have led to a natural evolution of feelings dormant or uncertain? Would our friendship blossom into something beautiful or just peter out like it ended up doing anyways? I know she wasn’t a mercenary in it for the corn and the shows, because if that was the case she wouldn’t have made herself a permanent fixture in my home after the shows ran out and corn season ended. But maybe she was just practicing, working up the courage to talk to the boy she really liked. Mercenary still, but one I can understand to a degree, although I don't agree with it. Did I miss a life experience or an experience for life?
Like I said, I don’t know where she is, what she’s doing, or even if she’s still with her boy. But I still remember her name, although her last name is different now so she's probably married. I still have her email address and I even have her cell phone number in my contacts list, although she could have changed it. I could very easily contact her that way or contact her via social media. But, I haven’t yet and I doubt I will.
Cowardly, perhaps. But I’m not sure if I want these questions answered. Who knows if they’ll even be answered if I reach out? What if she’s quite content in her life and doesn’t need some high school chum butting in and making things weird? I don’t want to be that guy who shows up after so many years and acts like nothing has happen, even though I’d love to talk to her again. Not even in pursuit of a relationship, just to talk to an old friend and see where life goes from there.
I’m happy to have had a friend like her in my life and thankful for such a wonderful experience. I wouldn’t mind having her back and being there for her again. At the very least, I could figure out why she loved corn so much. My goodness, how can someone eat that much corn on the cob without having terrible bathroom trips? It still vexes me! Maybe she didn’t quite understand her love for the vegetable herself and still hasn’t figured it out after all this time. I wonder if she has a load of questions she thinks about from time to time, too.
She Loves Him
Author's Note: This is a 100% true story. It's true, I still think about her and whether or not I should contact at her. What do you think? I'm interested in what folks think about that. Anyway, my last two uploads were very much vent pieces and, characteristic of my kind of poetry content, sad. So, I decided to do something tangibly light-hearted and this was the best I could do. This week, I'm also going to upload Chapter 4 to my historical-fiction story Land of Fire and if I can squeeze it in, I'll upload one of my fairy tale spoofs. I'm going to try and be more productive this week and I'm starting with an early morning upload (that I wrote and prepped last night but it still counts...) Well, that's about all for me. I have to go do some work on a semi-horny middle-aged woman's house so...I dunno, pray for me or something.
Prose Folder: www.deviantart.com/radiationso…
The gauntlet is down. You can’t take criticism for your terrible art and stories. Weird that you list yourself as an artist with your generic, ugly style , Mary sue characters, pathetic fetish and poor shading.
She loved corn simply because she loved it. Same way you and she loved each others' company; you just did.
They say, choose a lover and be friends first with that person, and allow the relationship to grow; those are the foundations for best relationships...
Maybe she simply taught you the values of a good relationship, what it looks like, and how it's supposed to be, and vice versa, - not necessarily with each other, but,.. what works,. and makes life more enjoyable - for the long haul.
With that said. I was hoping you and she ended up together, truly.
It does make me wonder though why, in your case, you are suddenly thinking of these things, why the questions after so much time..
We cross paths with certain people at certain times in our lives, I feel, simply to learn things.
And sometimes we learn that the other person was in fact who we were meant to be with. ( Some have gotten back together after many years and married; after trials and failures in other relationships. )
Knowing ourselves is key, though; what we want, who we are attracted to, emotionally and physically, and why.
A wonderful read! Thank you so much for sharing with us, I shall never forget this story.
Congrats on your much Deserved, DD!!!
I think what drove myself to write about it was considering my place in life and my attempts at relationships. I've reconnected with a couple pals and even some family I haven't seen in a while and I'm trying to be more active in the community here on DA. But I still feel some absence in my life and considering that I catapulted myself into love before and it didn't end well, it's hard not to look back and consider the 'what if's,' you had with people who you just really, really clicked with. What if's can be just as torturous as they are tantalizing.
In the end, you're right: knowing ourselves is the key. I haven't decided if I'll look her up but at least I have plenty to think about for the future. If there's anything I can take away from writing this and from what you said, it's knowing how I'm going to approach the future.
Hey, thanks a bunch for your comment, it really means a lot to me. I appreciate you taking the time to write it; it really moved me.
And sounds like those you were attracted to in the past, perhaps the attraction was more physical than anything.
Where with your friend, that click you and she had,.. was familiar; likened to a relationship with a best friend or a close family member, perhaps, but not what we'd think of when we think of a lover.
We all think when we think of a lover, of fireworks, and fast heartbeats, and other such desires.
Not until we get older, or, after many failing relationships do we start to understand, and suspect, that 'real' love is much more than that; it's something that will always be there even when we could care less about sex, or any other, superficial thing.
Your friend in this story, she has all the qualities you are looking for in a relationship for the long haul.
Keep it in mind when looking at the ladies.
Not all are as sweet as they may look, unfortunately. ( and if say, you were to go blind tomorrow and their treatment of you wasn't up to par you'd leave them in a heartbeat. But as long as we can see and what we are seeing looks good, we will put up with all sorts of crappola we might not Ever put up with otherwise. We are stupid like that. )
And it sounds like you deserve the best.
So know what you want. And know what's most important.
So that love can grow stronger,.. even as you both get old and wrinkled.
Looks fade over time.
The things of the heart,.. grows stronger and more beautiful.
Phew, those past attractions are stories on their own! I've written about the second one recently in a dual project (1 prose version and 1 poem version.)
Having gotten a little older, you're right, there's been a development in how I perceive love and relationships. A lot of it mirrors what you've said, although not so eloquently as you've put it. But I started to approach love as a natural evolution of my emotions rather than a metaphysical state of being, as something tangible we can reach out seize. It actually gels very well with you've said about clicking and what qualities we search for in a person. That evolution will occur naturally with the right person, so that's what I'm waiting for. Well, searching for...waiting makes me sound a tad lazy. I'm tryin' not to force it, that's what I mean!
You know, I really appreciate you taking the time to speak to me about it like this. Lots of folks I've spoken to face to face tend just give me unwanted advice or, more annoyingly, tell me about my poor choices regarding relationships (yes, thank you for reminding me) but you're very kind and speak just so earnestly about it. It means a lot and I hope what few words I've written can convey that.
Well, perhaps because I am the female version of you, ( or I was, once upon a time! lol )
But we live and we learn; and sometimes we don't learn; but if we are miserable enough for long enough - we learn - like it or not. ( And even then, some, return again like a dog to its' vomit. lol Yep. we are stupid like that. )
The majority of us though, get away from it with some semblance of self respect left. And all the pain comes again into the forefront in new relationships if they are similar, via flashbacks, - which keeps us on our toes. and our heads on straight. ( not as quick at all are we, anymore to ignore those red flags this time around.. no siree bub..
It's way too lonely being with an abusive personality, than if we were physically alone) .
It's true though,.. the more we suffer and for the longer we do it, we do learn to... appreciate the peace, after the fact. So that by the time we are seeing other people, we are way more cautious; not wishing to jump quickly again into more emotional torment - I don't care how hot he is!
Some,.. just simply have legitimate mental issues,, too,.. and couldn't change who they are if they wanted to. ( and they probably do want to but can't in many cases).. So even your best efforts might not ever be enough, literally. ( we can wish all we want)
Some of us may not listen to reason in the moment,... but later down the road we reflect on words and advice we've heard over the years, when it applies to our life in the moment and think: This. is what they were talking about,... trying to tell me.
It all matters.
So I inject myself where ever I go, whenever I can, if I think it can make even a dent of difference to someone else's life or current situation.
Oh man, I'm gonna try to write a comment on my phone, which is very hard with the new dA app - it sucks. Anyway, I enjoyed this story a lot! The descriptions are very good, I could picture everyone involved, but especially the corn girl. And you. In my experience, contacting a good friend even years later is *appreciated* by them... as long as they have the ability to a) not answer, b) leave if they want and c) be comfortable. I suggest a text or email, very open-ended but also honest. I think it's important since we don't often have really close friends. I also believe in things like 'if I think of them a lot, do they think of me?' Yes. So - and your dialogue is both personable and easy-flowing. You're still one of my favorite writers here. I could see so much of the scenes you wrote, it was as good as a movie. Well done! Thanks for sharing this. Brave and true.
Thanks for reading it, you're super-duper kind as always, I'm glad you enjoyed it! I had a feeling this would be a story you'd like! Trust me, I had a ton of fun writing it, remembering all the little conversations and times she and I spent together. I'm still not sure if I'll try to contact her again, but what you said made me feel a little more comfortable with the idea.
And holy heck, thanks so much for the Emerald badge! That means a lot, that was super kind. Just for that, I got something special to share with you...well not super special. It's the drawing she made me for my 18th birthday that I mentioned in the story:
Yep, I kept it after all these years. That was the way she drew herself back in the day, and the book with the word 'Kozak,' written on it is a reference to the main character of the first story I submitted to our high school art journal. So yeah, thought I'd share that, a little memory fragment from the story.
I've been away from DA a little bit and I'm trying to bust back in, so I've got a little catching up to do. Keep an eye out for a comment or two on some of your latest Deviations!
Yep. She loved Pokémon, I was never much of a fan, though. All my friends teased me about it because they liked it. The top one is Geodude, although drawn in the 'Beardodude,' style as mentioned in the story, reflecting me. The one on the bottom right is Cubone. Everyone considers it a sad Pokémon, so everyone decided if I was to ever be a Pokémon, I'd be Cubone.
Yeah, I was just in the dumps for a bit. Also suffered from about the worst migraine I've had in years, akin to the horrible ones I had as a kid. I was in bed and unable to look directly at a screen for a week. Not to mention I was sick with a summer cold, running a 101.5 degree fever for a little while. But now I'm feeling better in more ways than one, so I'm hoping to get more content on here and back to chattin' with folks!
Lol, nose in as much as you want! It's funny, not once in a lifetime of headaches, migraines, and eye strain, have I ever considered putting sunglasses on. It seems so...obvious now. I wear eyeglasses in general and those help sometimes, but I'll try out sunglasses in case I have a bad migraine again during work hours!
Now to invest in a pair of sunglasses...
I had heard of it before but had forgotten all about it. Until the other night.
I had such bad eye strain ( not a headache) from being awake many hours, but needed to use the computer. The glare was killing me. Until I remembered about the sunglasses.
They really do help.
I'd imagine even more so in your case.
Thanks for not smacking mah nose.
Thankfully my migraines don't occur like they used to and most headaches aren't so severe. But when they hit, they hit like a haymaker. So I'll take any advice I can get!
And your nose won't be smacked by me! I mean, look at my profile pic, if there's an animal that noses around, it's a mouse. Which is ironic, considering I'm a shy bean in real life!
Take care of yourself first! Then yes, I'll be glad to see new work by you as well 'chat'...
I'm afraid I must admit I know next to nothing about Pokemon. It's not from my 'time'.
Have you worked on this story any more? Checking for typos and loose ends?
Anyway, stay well.
Ha, don't worry, I don't know much about Pokémon either. All my friends were into it but I stubbornly resisted entering that realm. I was too deep in my history books to care.
I've worked on it a little bit. It's one of those things where I edited it like crazy and still missed some stuff. I've gone back and edited some parts but I keep forgetting if there's one or two more things I need to get. When I get a little more free time, I'll give it another once-over, but I'm pretty swamped right now.
And thanks, you stay well too!