I've been thriving for two days on an event that, in all probability, meant nothing to the other individual involved.
But it meant something to me.
I'm a flirt...always have been. Anyone who knows me should have figured this out. (I'm really beginning to think that +Kyle hasn't...) It never got me anywhere as a teenager, because my friends were all tall, svelte, and charming. Me? Short...chunky at my best...a joker who "uses too many big words", to give a quote... Self-esteem zero... Needless to say, my friends were stopped by cute guys, asked for their numbers on at least several occasions, and fairly successful at getting males to pay them heed. I wasn't even very cute in comparison to them, and the only thing I was really good for was getting a chuckle out of the guys once they were interested in one of my friends. I pretended like this didn't bother me, and for years denied I had any interest in boys (due to misunderstandings that I now comprehend). In truth, I think I was the worst of the bunch to crush on someone, especially if they were nice to me in any way.
But look at my high school friends now...few of them have healthy, lasting relationships. Not that my marriage is SO healthy, but...I try. We both do, to some degree.
There have been many times when I was actually depressed that the only way I could get a guy was online...they had to know me for me before they found me attractive. Yes, it's so much better to build a relationship on that trust and knowledge...but what's inherently wrong with wanting your crush to notice you, knowing he won't because you're just not that cute? Even after we got married, and +Kyle would beg me to tell him, "I'm pretty," I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe he thought so. Even though he wouldn't lie to me, I never really believed him when he'd say I was beautiful or sexy. It always struck me as that stupid line: "You're a beautiful person" or "You have inner beauty". Maybe I was, but that didn't change what I wanted to be.
So I had to change it myself.
+Kyle...really hasn't supported me in this endeavour of self-improvement. The extent of it has been:
Me: "Do you like me better this way?" (thinner; healthier)
Him: "Well...are you happy?"
Me: "Yes, I really am."
Him: "Then I like you better this way."
Truly, I appreciate that he wants me to be happy, but he comes across as not caring, and at first even made fun of the lifestyle changes I've made. Sometimes he still picks a little bit, but I try not to let it get to me as much.
So here I am, age 24, looking the best I have in my entire life. I did this all for myself, and I enjoy the fruits of it to the fullest. For the first time ever, I *do* feel pretty, and have some small form of self-confidence. I'm still a flirt, only now it has the potential to get me somewhere...so I have to be careful. There are fleeting moments when I wish I were single so I could have a little fun with it.
So we come to Thursday night... This adorable guy floated around all evening, and I found it so very hard not to get myself into serious trouble. I caught him looking at me once or twice even before we ever spoke, and it just felt so good. For all I know, he was thinking how ridiculous I looked in elf ears...but I don't think so. His actions spoke volumes. I can't even describe how I felt.
Joanna asked such a little thing. No, I didn't like the song, but I didn't care, either. She really wanted this, as silly as it was, and I was willing to give it to her. +Kyle wasn't even willing to do it for me, much less a friend.
I wasn't important enough to him to put away his hatred for a stupid genre of music.
I wanted to fulfill a desire for a friend, and another man was willing to fulfill *my* desire. Does it matter what his motives were? No, although I'm curious... It was a chivalrous gesture.
For me, it was the culmination of years of wishing for a guy to look at me, like what he saw, and approach. Whether it was actual physical attraction, or just Scooter being a nice guy doesn't really matter. He made me feel special in a way I'd forgotten wanting.
It hurts that my own husband wouldn't do that for me. Truth be told, if he had, I wouldn't have had that feeling of being special...it would have been merely a nice cuddle to music.
It hurts most that in five minutes, a total stranger did what +Kyle hasn't been able to do in over five years.
I've dreamed about my vampire every night since, and reveled in the memory of his gentle touch every day. I don't confuse the feelings I have for him with love...but they are strong. I want to see him, to really thank him, and then I suppose I must say goodbye. Even if that night *did* mean anything to him, nothing could come of it. I'm not willing to destroy what I have (such as it is at times).