And I figured it'd be cool to post some of them on here. (Also, Jon just gave me an extremely recent inspiration boost)
This one has yet to have a title.
Enjoy.
Or don't.
But try to.
I’m looking down at my feet as the double doors open. I’ve never been this nervous. Maybe anxious is the right word. Whatever it is, my heart is about to burst through my chest.
There she is, her dark hair hanging by her shoulders. She couldn’t decide how to do it. First it was supposed to be pulled back in a bun, now it’s down and curly. I like it better this way, but honestly, I could care less what her hair looks like right now. All that matters is the next few moments. Her dress is gorgeous. I haven’t seen it on her before today. Of course I pried and pried, trying to get a glimpse of her in it these last few weeks, but she held her ground. I’m glad though. It wouldn’t have been as breathtaking.
As she walks up the steps to me, my body shakes a little. Not like epilepsy, I don’t get seizures, but that excited shake you get when you can’t wait for something. I remember when I was little, my family would go to Disneyland and every time I was in line for Indiana Jones, I’d get this excited shaking. The line was always too long and I felt like I’d die if I couldn’t quell the shakes.
That’s how it is now.
She stops at the top, right next to me, and grabs my hand.
“Hi,” she whispers.
And just like that. With that “hi,” I remember why I proposed. I remember the strength and confidence she would always exude when she walked into a room. When she met my friends for the first time, they were kind of surprised.
“Nobody has ever owned it as much as she did,” they would say after she left. What that meant exactly, I never knew, but she definitely made an impression on them, ultimately becoming their “favorite” out of the few girls I had dated.
When we would hold hands she’d sometimes rub the back of my thumb with her thumb. When we’d watch movies, she’d get as close to me as she could, as if she was holding on for dear life, as if I was the only safe thing around. I loved it.
“Hi,” I whisper back.
The pastor starts doing his thing, and I’m listening, but not really. I’m getting lost in her eyes. Those blue, ever-changing oceans. Some days there would be more white in them, like the tide was coming in, and the waves were closer than before. Somehow I say my vows. Speaking is difficult.
All I want to do is kiss her.
She says her vows, and the pastor says some more things I can’t make out because I’m getting lost again.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” says the pastor. “You may now kiss the bride.”
I rush in before he finishes his sentence and we connect. Our friends and families clap and cheer. We turn and face them, both beaming, happier than we could ever possibly be…
And just like that, I’m back in the coffee shop. Back to my comfortable chair, my warm drink, and my try-too-hard outfit.
I was doing it again.
Daydreaming. Obsessing over this girl that I don’t even know. All she did was smile in my direction. Was it even at me? Hopefully it was because now I’m actually thinking about our future together. I don’t even know this girl, but I feel like I know her. Does that mean anything? Is this love at first sight?
I’d never really experienced love at first sight. In movies there would always be that one scene where the girl walks in and the guy looks up at her, completely blown away. She would be totally hot, he’d be kind of a loser, but at the end they would always get together and the movie would end with some sort of slow motion make out session as the camera pulled back and the hipster music played in the background.
I’d always imagined love like that. Some big, theatrical moment where I knew for certain this person was the person I would marry. So is this the person? Is this the slow motion moment?
Maybe.
Or maybe it’s just my over-thinking, overeager mind being utterly destroyed by the beauty of this girl. Does every guy in this room feel the same way I do? I feel myself looking around, glaring at every person with a Y-chromosome. They all look over at me, pulling out various weapons, and they charge. I rush to meet them and we fight violently. Appendages twist and snap, faces are bruised and bloodied, and at the end of it all I stand victorious at the top of the pile of vicious men. My dream woman hurries over to me and holds me close, explaining that all she’s wanted her entire life is someone to save her from the hordes of atrocious evil that followed her everywhere. I would pick her up and carry her out of the coffee shop (Because that’s always the heroic thing to do) and we continued to live happily ever after.
Yikes.
This is a little extreme, even for me. There’s no way that would ever happen. One, I could never fight off a bunch of armed guys with just my bare hands, and two, she would never want to be with me anyway. I might as well just get out of here; I can’t subject myself to the craziness of my own mind right now.
As I stand up to leave, I see her glance up from her book and we connect, and I’m back at the church, holding her hand, walking out the door and into our car. The driver pulls away and starts us on our way to the reception. She puts her head on my shoulder and lets out a deep breath.
“I love you,” she sighs.
Shit.
Stop it. You have to stop thinking about her.
I listen to myself and instantly break eye contact. I can’t be here anymore. I can’t let myself drown in this newfound adoration.
But what if she’s “The One?” What if I leave and I never find that person for me? I’ll forever be haunted by this missed opportunity.
I’m taking this chance.
As I walk toward her, my body shakes a little, but it stops almost as immediately as it starts. I have to keep myself together. I have to make the best impression possible.
“Excuse me,” I say quietly.
She looks up at me, a little surprised, but she doesn’t say anything. I expected words to come out, but there’s only silence.
She hates me. I know it.
“Hi. Umm… I saw you from over there and I was just wondering…” I’m nervous. Not nervous like I was at the alter back in my dream world. It’s more like a strong, murderous fear. Like she won’t understand that we’re meant to be together. “I was just wondering if maybe you’d want to go out. Hang out. Maybe later tonight?”
She just looks at me. Face blank. Her blue eyes seem more gray now than they did before. Was I not clear? If only she’d know what she meant to me. A small smile comes across her lips and she looks around, almost like she’s embarrassed.
Embarrassed? What did I say?
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t think so.”
Her voice doesn’t sound like I thought it would. It’s not angelic and peaceful. It’s hoarse and deep. What was I thinking? This was a mistake.
“Okay. Well… no problem. See you around.” The words force their way out of my mouth. I had no intention of taking no for an answer, but this sudden shock—this rejection—is too much to handle right now. I turn around and head for the door, too crushed to look back and try again.
I head towards my car outside and fumble with my keys. That was stupid. I should’ve listened to myself. Why would she feel the same? It was ridiculous of me to think that I could have a relationship with that girl. Some girl I didn’t even know. Some beautiful, terrible angel who just ripped my dreams apart.
As I get to my car, the car next to me opens and a woman steps out. She stands up straight, brushing the dark hair from her face, and glances in my direction.
And we connect.
