Friday, November 16, 2012

She didn't blush anymore


She didn’t blush anymore.
She used to always blush when she’d think of her crushes.
First there was her cousin. “Everyone will think it’s stupid. No one will get it. They won’t see how he is with me. They won’t see the real him, and the real me.” She blushed as she kept this crush to herself.  She was afraid no one would understand why she liked him so much. “He’s your cousin. That’s gross!” This she imagined them saying if the news got out. They didn’t know that he listened to what she said when everyone else didn’t. They didn’t see the special time he set aside for their annual canoe rides out on the lake during the family camping trips every summer. Then he started bringing his girlfriend on these trips and she was left out of the canoe rides. Instead of blushing at her liking him, she was angry.
Then there was the guy who would become her cousin through marriage. This was a different guy than the first cousin. When they were dating he wasn’t officially her cousin yet… But she still blushed when her best friend reminded her that it was the same as being cousins because his dad was still dating her aunt. No one knew why she dated this guy. She couldn’t even explain it, really. Except that he was her first real boyfriend. That was all she could say. She didn’t blush when she dumped him and started dating another guy on the same day.
After this, she had a series of crushes on all of the popular guys. There was one that lasted the entire 7th grade and into the 8th grade. She had always talked to him, went to all of his football games. He wrestled for her dad; she travelled with the team to all of the tournaments so she could spend every Saturday with him. They became close friends, but she could never tell him just how much she liked him, that it was more than just friends for her, much much more than that. Her cheeks turned red every time she thought of what she would say to him. He was the new kid in school, but he became popular after the first month he was there. By the time his second year, he was the most popular guy in their grade and every girl had a crush on him. She’d never be good enough for him. During the eighth grade dance he made sure he saved a song for her. It was the last song of the night, “Truly Madly Deeply” by Savage Garden. It was perfect, she thought. This will be the time that I finally get to tell him how I feel, when it’s just us, him and me. As they started dancing and she was building up the courage to speak, he spoke first. “I can’t tell you how much you mean to me. You’re amazing, funny, smart, always there for me to talk to. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re my best friend.” Her pulse quickened, palms started to sweat, her throat tightened. “You’re like one of the guys to me.” If he said anything after this, she didn’t hear it. She blushed right before everything went numb inside her. If she still blushed after that, she didn’t know it.
She used to blush a lot in high school. Like the time she was only a sophomore and he was a senior. He had a girlfriend – they had been dating for five years at that point. But he would talk to her – not his girlfriend – late at night. On the band trip, they fell asleep talking to each other on the phone in the hotel – she blushed at some of the questions that he’d asked. He asked her to sit next to him during the musical they saw the next day – his girlfriend was furious and jealous at this. She blushed when she thought of all the assumptions that people would make. One night, he began asking her sexual questions. With some, she had no idea what he was asking or suggesting and so she just made up answers. She blushed at her ignorance of these things. The farthest she had gone with any guy was making out … He was the first guy to get her to do sexual things; she blushed at this, too. He made a plan: he’d be the first guy to “break her in” … she blushed during the whole time he told her his plan. Then she blushed and cried when it never happened. How could she be so stupid to think that it would actually come true? She didn’t blush anymore; she just tried to get him out of her head, and heart.
There were several boyfriends that she had who would go only as far as holding her hand, one wouldn’t even do that. She was disappointed with their lack of intimacy, but wouldn’t pressure them to do anything. She didn’t know how to initiate anything, but she just wanted to be with someone. Being alone was what she feared most in the world. She used to blush at her indecision; why couldn’t she just be happy with what she had?
Then there was the guy who liked her more than anyone else ever had. She didn’t really know what to do with this guy. He liked her so much, but she couldn’t return the feelings. Sure, he was a great person, good friend, everyone liked him … but she didn’t like him, not like that at least. She wasn’t attracted to him like she was to other guys. She blushed at his persistence; he kept telling her how much he liked her, what was “so great” about her, that she should date him. She turned him down, time after time. Once she even made up a boyfriend – Brad Funerelli, he was the best boyfriend ever! But still this guy kept on asking her out, until finally she gave in and agreed to date him. At least I know he won’t leave me for another girl, she thought. She used to blush, knowing that she could never match his affection for her. Then one day: “I think we’re moving towards just being friend with benefits… I think it’s better if we were just friends.” First she blushed because she didn’t even know what “friends with benefits” meant, and then she blushed when she realized he was breaking up with her. After this she didn’t know what to do, if she couldn’t keep him, hold on to him, how would she be able to keep anyone? She would be alone forever. Her blushing face turned pale and the tears started to fall, forming rivers down her cheeks as she ran out the door of his house.
Standing next to her car, crying, sobbing, gasping for air, she heard a familiar voice coming toward her. In her crying fit she couldn’t hear or understand what he was saying, her own sorrow was louder than his words. But she recognized the voice; it was her best friend. He came up to her, first excited to see her – they always loved talking to each other – then worried when he saw her crying. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? What happened? He didn’t…” He looked into her eyes. “Oh my god! He did! How could he?! I’m so sorry. Truly, I am. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” And he hugged her. It was the best thing that she could have gotten at that moment. A hug from her best friend. She felt safe in that hug, like he’d make everything okay. His warmth warming up her face. She blushed with their embrace. Her lips twitched into a smile, barely recognizable as a smile, as he brushed the tears falling off her face. “It’ll be okay. I promise. You’re strong; you’ve been through worse. You inspire me to face every day with a smile; you bring light to my world.” This would be the last time that she smiled for months.
She thought about that talk every night … How he made her feel safe, liked, wanted, appreciated. How his fingers felt on her face as he brushed the tears off. How his arms felt, how she could smell his sweet scent as he surrounded her with comfort. She remembered his last words in that conversation, “You’re not alone. I’ll always be here for you.” She decided that this was it. She was going to ask him to be her date to the Homecoming dance. No one had asked her – they must have all known what a mess she was – and as far as she knew, he hadn’t asked anyone. When she finally got the courage to ask, he told her that he didn’t think he was even going to go. He wasn’t a “fan” of dances. She wanted to believe these words, more than anything she wanted to believe him. But she knew that it wasn’t true. She knew that he was just saying that to be nice and to keep the friendship that they had built over the years. She understood this, and she knew that she wasn’t the type of girl he dated, or even took to dances, anyways. She was too good of a friend to be the other type of girl. This didn’t stop her disappointment, though. It didn’t stop the sadness, the tears, the lonely nights that all became too familiar to her.
Her face wouldn’t flush red anymore … She didn’t blush when her next boyfriend spread rumors around the school stating that she was “a beast in bed” … She didn’t blush people would talk behind her back, saying that she wasn’t good enough for him, wondering how in the world she got him to ask her out … She didn’t blush when married guys’ heads would turn as she walked by … She didn’t blush when old boyfriends would come crawling back when she became single again … She didn’t blush when a married guy, more than twice her age, fooled around with her while his wife was sleeping up stairs …  She didn’t blush when another married guy told he was divorcing his wife and that they’d be together some day, then a month later tell her that he wasn’t getting divorced after all… She cried, too many times. She was angry. She moved on more times than she can remember. But she didn’t blush anymore …

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