In conclusion, liking someone is like undergoing an exorcism. But instead of a demon, it’s your feelings.
I will now share some of my wisdom on relationships because we all know I have exquisite mastery of the subject.
Everyone gets nervous and it’s something I’ve learned to let happen. If you are nervous to talk to someone you are interested in, pretend they are nervous, and you have to break the ice first.
You have to realize that at the end of the day, that cutie patootie is a human with flaws just like you. There is no rulebook for the game of love, and if you really want it, you have to go after it. The way I see it is quite morbid, but it has helped me to talk to guys I liked because the situation should not be as difficult as I make it.
Overthinking is a female dog.
Fundamentally, you have to think, if something were to happen to you or your eye candy, and you never got to see each other again, what would you want them to know?
Intermission: Hot or Not
Take a good look at yourself in the mirror. Do you like what you see? If you said yes, that’s great. If you said no, how do you expect to give your all to someone else if you can’t give it to yourself first?
I’ve never met you but I’m pretty sure you’re rad, unless your feet smell weird.
If being single is the best thing for you at the moment because you don’t have enough emotional energy, then no worries.
You are more important than a budding relationship. If that person is meant to be in your life, they will show up when you’re ready, not just when it’s New Year’s Eve. After a while, when you finally receive that confidence you deserve—and it’s different for every person depending on what they need—then you’re as ready as you’ll ever be to give another person your precious attention.
Here’s the catch. Looks don’t last. Now, I know this may come as a shock. But it’s a known thing that people—gasp—age. The horror.
If you manage to find someone and they have already peaked. It’s downhill from here, bud. The curves will sag, and the abs will flab. But that is assuredly okay.
Aging is a beautiful thing. The older you get, the wiser you grow. You gain all this experience in life and you are gifted events that you remember for the rest of your life, like your soulmate picking the girl beside you to be his babe. I’m not mad about that by the way.
All that being said, if you like someone romantically, solely because they look extra good in that button down, you’re in for a rude awakening come fifty. Many people claim that they look for personality versus looks. Those people are liars. How are you attracted to someone’s personality if you’ve never spoken to them in your life? I understand if two people end up getting together that value personality more, but that is completely different from the initial attraction. You are going to be drawn to the person that fits your physical type initially and that’s okay.
The worst mistake you can make is not being able to commend your significant other on anything else besides how they look. This may seem like a no brainer, but some people seriously only see surface beauty. And that always ruins things in the end. If you are going to be in a relationship, be in it for the right reasons. Or take a picture of the person you find so good looking, they may never be that hot again.
Breakdown: each day we get older, no one will ever look exactly the same as they did before, which is a good thing because funny looking people are more likely to be happy. It’s an unproven fact. Quote me.
Intermission: How to Tell if Someone Likes You
I promise this one of the last intermissions before I finish bringing you guys up to speed on my life.
I know this is something people question every day and odds are, if you had to inquire, they probably don’t like you.
If that hit you hard, then allow me to sugarcoat it: they don’t know that they like you yet.
What you do with this golden nugget of information is up to you. All I’m trying to say is, don’t waste your time trying to decipher if someone likes you or not. Heck, just ask them. The worst possible answer you could receive is no. Actually, it could be way worse …
The point is, how will you know if you don’t ask? There’s also that slight chance they could like you back and your love could blossom.
That chance might be decimal but it’s there hiding behind rejection. If they say no, there are plenty of other options on the horizon.
Maybe make a flyer so people are aware that you have love to give. Or maybe just start with saying hi, and getting to know that person.
I’m not speaking from experience, but I try to formulate situations for other people because it’s easy to imagine something you don’t have. Just going to leave my heart on the floor right where it just fell. Sometimes, I hurt my own feelings.
Back on track, let me provide a couple of ways to tell if someone likes you. Does this person know you exist? If you answered yes, that’s a good start. If you said no, what the heck are you asking for?
Next thing, do they seem willing to talk to you?
Congrats, you are one step closer to them liking you.
Here’s the big thing, if you ask them how their day is going, and they don’t ask you respectively, not only are they rude, but they also don’t like you.
Or maybe they do, none of my advice is withstanding. I’m attempting to draw a connection between the individual behavior of every single person on the planet, and the subject of interest with a simplified list of specifications. I will publicly claim that there are foils in my thesis.
Please, don’t sue me on the basis of a restraining order that the court granted your intriguing specimen in favor of remaining a safe distance from you. I’m not forcing the silver spoon, just moving it through the air like an airplane toward you.
Up for complete interpretation, because I am the last person to receive relationship advice from, which I have carefully remembered to reiterate throughout this book, can’t be too cautious.
But I think if someone truly likes you, you’ll know.
Why do the unattainable ones always have to be cute?
Age Thirty Resumed
Wedding DJ Harvey is quite possibly the best guy that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Not only is he kind and caring, but he knows how to interpret my jokes and has a few of his own. He can be serious and fun in a span of sixty seconds.
To be painstakingly honest, I thought because he was a DJ, that we would have nothing in common. As it turns out, he has a day job as a real estate agent.
After Asher and Lina’s wedding reception, he took Tina and I to this twenty-four-hour ice cream place, where he paid for a jumbo ice-stravaganza for the three of us to split. Imagine three thirty-year old’s screaming brain freeze in the booth in the corner, and that was us. At one-point, Tina went to the restroom and Harvey asked for my number.
We promised to hang out again soon and he agreed to go see a movie and go out for dinner the next weekend. I would like to let that sink in for all of you antagonists who gave up on me. Grandma, Mom, Chimmy Chunga.
For the entire week at work, I was grinning from ear to ear. Also, behaving like a schoolgirl. It was embarrassing not only for me, but for my coworkers. They knew exactly what my issue was and proceeded to pick on me for the entirety of the week. They would walk by my desk and make kissing noises. They would tape paper hearts on my computer. Our boss even got the whole office involved in a “Waverly’s going on a date” chant. I was mortified.
The fact that this ordeal was deemed so peculiar said a couple of things about me, I’ll tell you that. I may or may not vent to my coworkers about the single life I live, but they are thirty and forty-year-old men for crying out loud. I thought men mature at twenty-one. I was very wrong.
That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy every minute of it. I even chanted with them. When the final day arrived, I was over the moon. While getting ready, I played pump-up songs. I took longer on my hair, even twirling it into a fancy updo. For my outfit, I went
with a blue ensemble. A royal blue romper with gold strappy sandals and a matching purse. I looked good, if I do say so myself. By the time I had finished getting ready, it was almost three o’ clock and I heard a ring at my doorbell.
That’s right, my doorbell. No more doormen and buzzing my guest up, or commercial parking. Life was really turning itself around.
When I opened the door, there he was decked out in khakis, a purple button down that was opened halfway and sleeves rolled up to his elbows with cufflinks. Ah, a guy with flair. He also had these interesting shoes on, they were a mix between tennis shoes and dress shoes, with a small flame across the sole. I’ve got to admit, Harvey was noticeably into fashion.
He followed where my eyes fell and laughed. “You like the shoes? I just got them from my boss to wear when I DJ and I wanted to wear them in.”
That explained a lot, so I laughed softly and said, “They look very unique. Kind of like this zombie movie you are forcing me to watch.”
He moved so I could walk out and lock my door. “Say what you want but I think they make me look hip.” Keep in mind we are both thirty, and even though there is no age gap, I felt momentarily embarrassed when he said that.
He walked me to his car and not only was it nice, it was noice. He sported a dark gray convertible, with dark red-stained leather seats and a wood grain dashboard. It was squeaky clean on the inside and smelled like he had just bought it. The air was so fresh, he could afford to have a plant living in one of the cupholders. Harvey was definitely eccentric, but that just added to his already extensive list of things he was doing just right.
On the way to the theater, we talked about our lives and how far we had come. He had wanted to be a DJ all his life, but he knew that passion alone would not be able to support a future family. So, he made sure that his day job payed the bills, while still doing what he loved. He had a couple of relationships throughout his life, and only one was serious. Just like myself, he was deep in his profession and focusing on bettering himself. We had similar taste in music and he even sang along with me to my groove playlist.
Now to give you a voluminous description of Harvey. Please close your eyes and imagine a tall shadow of a man. He was a mix of Vietnamese, African American, and Italian. I know because he told me. That being said, he had wavy black hair that was longer in the front. He had a chiseled jawline, with a bulbous nose, his teeth were blindingly white, and he had an ear piercing. He was about six feet, and he had the body of a baseball player—which makes sense because he played all of college. To sum it up, he looked kind of funny.
Yeah, you heard me, I’m not taking it back. If anything, his unique features made him far more attractive. He drove at a speed of five under the whole way to the theater which made me very happy, because I drive like a turtle and we related.
I would go on a tangent about people who speed but that’s the majority of the human population and I don’t want you to get offended. I bet you speed.
Regardless, after twenty more minutes, we arrived at the movie theater, and purchased our tickets. He bought mine which I greatly appreciated because the movies are just a way to charge innocent civilians fifty bucks for a bigger screen, a small popcorn, and a bottle of water. Inflation is only the beginning explanation of this capitalistic scam. Don’t even get me started on college.
But I digress, movie theater popcorn is the best popcorn, so I will wave my money at the movie theater cashiers until I die. The movie, like I mentioned earlier, was a zombie movie and it was, to all intents and purposes, scary. I screamed at least twelve times, and at one point jumped out of my seat. Harvey let me hold his hand for the entire movie. No doubt my nails dug into the back of his hand. He was a trooper for dealing with me.
After the movie, he said he needed to cancel on dinner and left me …
Just kidding, the date actually kept going. I’m more shocked than you. We decided on Italian for dinner, which was not a good idea for first impressions. Spaghetti is not a safe date food. Nor is the famous red sauce used in varying Italian meals. I played myself.
The place was called Ria’s. It was in a small plaza, with floral arrangements of white roses littering the store front. The outside seating area was five picture-worthy white picnic tables surrounded by more assorted flowers. And the entrance to the restaurant was a huge red Dutch door. You ordered your food from the outside, and they brought it out to you. Ria’s was known for their calzones, which thankfully aren’t messy.
After we ordered, we found a spot that was partially shady (I’m a tad vampirish when it comes to sunlight). I sat facing the street, so I got to see one of my coworkers named Cade drive by on complete chance. When we made eye contact, he pointed at Harvey and winked. I burst out laughing, when Harvey turned around Cade had already passed by. I really love my coworkers.
While we waited for our food to arrive, Harvey told me about some of his real estate horror stories. He was very animated when he told his stories. His words completely captured you from beginning to end. “Okay, one time, when I was showing this elder couple a house, the husband announced his urge to pee—”
I scrunched my nose. “Wait, if it was a show house, that means there was no plumage.”
He smirked. “Exactly, so what did he do? He ignored my warnings and went to pee in the upstairs toilet. Only he had diarrhea, so he made a mess of the entire bathroom. There was stuff coming from both ends. His wife apologized profusely while this was going on and blamed it on the seafood they had eaten beforehand. Then, she started to throw up right on the floor!”
I slapped my hand over my mouth. “So, what did you do?”
He learned back and contemplated for a second. “Well, if I wanted to prevent getting fired from my company for destruction of one of their properties, I had to place some blame, and quickly.
“So, I called one of my friends and asked him to pretend to be a junkie and act as if he had been living there and made the unmentionable mess. He dressed up and everything.” Harvey lowered his voice. “We staged the discovery, and the expulsion. I took pictures and provided evidence promising to hire someone to clean the mess before showing anyone else the house.”
I was in awe. “That actually worked?”
He just smiled again. “Not only did it work, but the couple felt so bad they bought a house from us. And I took my very talented friend out for a celebratory dinner.”
Hey, he may have tricked his company, but you got to admit the guy was clever. A waiter came out with our calzones and placed the steamy plates in front of us. I am not really a fan of etiquette and mannerisms when I'm hungry. Before the waiter could finish putting down my plate, I was taking a bite of my calzone. It tasted like pure bliss. A mix of oozy, gooey magic. I asked for pineapples in mine because pineapple on pizza is an initiative I can stand behind.
The side of ranch to dip the calzone in was smoother than my pick-up lines, mixed with fresh herbs and a tangy hint of buffalo. While I was lost in cheese world, Harvey continued with his story. Breaking news, it wasn’t over.
“After about a week, the guilt of the harmless lie I told was tearing me up. So, I told my boss the truth. She thought the story was so funny that she had me tell it at her birthday party, and she gave me an advance after the couple bought a house.”
I was laughing between cheesy bites, but Harvey didn’t seem to care, so neither did I. After our meal, he dropped me off at home and we planned to hang out again soon. For the next couple of weeks, we tried different things together. We went ice-skating, to a karaoke bar, and lots of cute small restaurants. He even took me on a tour of his DJ booth last week. After serious hanging out for about four months, I was ready for it to be official. He still hadn’t kissed me or done anything really affectionate besides hug me goodbye. We planned on going to the aquarium soon and it was time to devise a love plan.
Last Intermission: Hey
Woah, woah, woah. I know good and well, you didn’t think I was going to tell you a story about me find
ing love and just end the book. That’s not how it works. I have to first give you one last lesson before I tell you what happens. I’m writing this next part two days before my date, which means I may have a boyfriend by then. Not only am I over the moon, but I also want to scream from the top of my lungs, “It’s about time!”
Although that wouldn’t be very appropriate, it’s been thirty cold hard years. And while I have made sure to bring up the importance of being single and happy, it’s my time to settle down.
This does not count as hypocrisy because I never said that I wanted to be single. The cards just fell that way.
At this point, I’m lucky this book didn’t turn into me insulting every guy that’s ever rejected me thus placing my book under the category of a “hate book.” If I let the fact that I was single affect my writing, this book would be banned in all fifty states. Rejection hurts like a mother trucker. Back to that last lesson …
STOP IDEALIZING. Being single is not all butterfly’s and rainbows. You are not immune to loneliness, resulting in the inevitable act of idealization. This is an epidemic. It’s impossible to avoid. As natural as breathing. The mind is a beautiful thing, but it finds ways to mess you up. We as mankind have expectations. We expect people to be how we wish they were, yet that person doesn’t and will never exist. Life is long and lonely when you expect too much. You will often find yourself disappointed.
That can lead to other things and before you know it, you are drawing a picture of a flower while looking out a barred window, your left eye twitching repeatedly. Pretty picture, huh?
While that may seem drastic, it’s a very foreseeable path for those who can’t seem to get out of their heads and actually live life. In relationships, there are pros and cons to each person involved. You may not like the way your significant other dresses, or they may have irritating family members. But you see, if life was perfect, it would be plain boring. If your mate was perfect, they would be boring.
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