Don’t believe for a second that these tears won’t end one day. Soon the sun will come up and it will dry up all these tear drops on my face. Every time I think about my dad I wonder what life would be like if he were still around. I wonder what he would think about me as I am now, what he’d say about my choices in life, about my friends and about my choices in guys…at least this one guy in particular.
I’m almost 23 and until this april I had no prospects of a relationship. It’s still in its earliest stage and it’s a work in progress, something we’re both trying to get used to and cope with. But I’m excited this week I had some interesting conversations with my guy and as of Saturday, I came to the this conclusion that I was going to allow myself to be excited and unapologetically so. I have this fear of wanting things so much that I’ll never get them.
There’s a story to this fear. I as very much younger, probably about 14 years old and it’s Saturday. My parents had decided that we were going to go to the beach on Sunday morning. I was so excited that I laid out my clothes, I check the time constantly to make sure i’d go to bed early, I’d watch that clock closely, I couldn’t wait. The beach was my favorite place in the world and every thing I did on that Saturday was to ensure that I had everything covered for Beach day. I woke to the most horrific sound. The sound of my dreams breaking and dissolving away as rain thundered away outside. There was no hint of a sun in the sky as everything was completely grey, the air think with large streams of water….a never ending ambush. I looked to my mother who was calming moving about doing her work in the kitchen, for any sign of hope and there was none. I had decided since that day that I wasn’t going to get my hopes up about things, I had believed wholeheartedly that it was this hope, this meticulous preparation I had that caused it to rain. Now in hindsight it sounds silly to base most things on that one day. But I had always had days like that, where I’d put my heart and soul into it and in the end, I’m left disappointed, my heart sore.
So this new adventure many people call a relationship, my first one ever, is something I’m trying and constantly failing to not overthink. I’m bouncing off the walls and smiling and singing in the shower and daydreaming and listening specifically to the songs that remind me of my love. It’s a sad state I’m in. It’s lovely, but it’s so icky, isn’t it? I mean the thoughts and feelings, the random rolls of poetry that comes to mind when I look at his face, when I think about his face, I sigh deeply every time at this and wonder, how am I to survive this. But then again, I laugh because he’s the first guy I loved enough to risk it for and then again, it doesn’t feel like a risk. It’s his first relationship too and so it’s bound to be a beautiful mess of highs and lows. It’s never like what you read in the books and see on t.v, it came suddenly, but it’s been building up for a while. He was my best friend first, my favorite person at school, then he became the one person I cared for the most. He’s just right, feels right. We get carried away sometimes, in each other and in our heads, but it’s a great feeling to know that there’s someone out there that I sorta belong to. My best friend, my companion. He’s the rose to my Doctor (Yes I’m The Doctor), the Peter to my Olivia, (Fringe) The Dean to my Sam. Okay I’ll stop now…
I wish my dad were here to meet him. I wonder truly every day what it would be like to bring this boy home to my dad. He’s such a cool dude, a big personality and with an undeniable ‘swag’ that you’ve got to love. My dad had a ‘swag’ to him too. He was classy and unique, quiet and was what I always thought of as a Cool Cat, on the good days. The days when the house was quiet and full of wonder, no fighting, no nagging, no noise. My dad was cool dude and I hope he would have liked my choice. It makes sad that I will never know what he would like and what he would say, were he still alive and I find it unfair sometimes that I can’t have the answers. Maybe I’m better off, without him, maybe I somehow managed to avoid confusion and emotional turmoil, who knows. My dad wasn’t the best dad in the world, but I do wish I had him here sometimes.
On a random afternoon I’d walk up to him, while he would be reading the papers or watching T.V. I’d be cautiously optimistic and then I’d say “Hey Dad, I need to talk to you about something.” He probably grunt and say “What’s up?” look at me and then back down at the papers in his hand or the T.V before him. I’d then say “I want you to meet someone…hold on” Then I creep back to the corridor and with my hand wrapped around his securely, I’d say “This is…[insert name here]” with an impossible smile on my face and God firmly in my thoughts. Heart beating so fast I’d jump in and out comes the title- “My boyfriend dad…this is my boyfriend.” or something less easy going like that.