(All events, though based on actual occurrences, are NOT exact recounts of what happened. Any and all things that have happened occurred over 4 years ago, and though my memory is excruciatingly sharp, it is also not *perfect*. Any dialogue is strictly paraphrased, and not quoted verbatim.)
Some people think that a defining moment is exactly what it sounds like – something big, something monumental that takes you by surprise whether you’ve seen it coming for a while or not. Some people assume those moments will always hit with the strength of a CAT 5 hurricane – sweeping in, taking everything over, and leaving a long trail of destruction in its wake.
But it’s never like that. Those moments are like slow leaks – drip-dripping so slightly but steadily. Each drop leading that much closer to a flood that will slowly sweep through you, drowning you bit by bit, though you’d never realize it until the last possible moment. When there’s absolutely nothing more you can do about it.
It never really comes suddenly. It just feels like it.
It was like that for me. Small moments coalescing through the years to eventually overwhelm and flood me in one, small moment. Something so miniscule that, for a moment, I almost thought I imagined it all.
From the beginning, there was something there that just drew me in and held me. A sharp jolt of emotion and feeling sent me reeling back, as though a fish caught on the line unable to break free. The hook digging constantly deeper and deeper – embedding itself into my tender flesh the more I fought. Finally, with the last struggles of one who has fought too long, too hard; for something too unattainable, I felt my body growing tired. My mind followed suit eventually, giving in to that last deep breath of freedom and relinquishing control to the external source pulling me just that much closer to something I’d feared all my life.
In that moment, it occurred to me that no matter how long I denied the inevitable, no matter how much *desire* there was to break free; eventually – you’re just that: a fish in the water, awaiting a certain fate that will occur regardless of how much you push it back. Absolute fate waits for no one, and whether by hook and line or by simply time itself; eventually… that day will come.
In that tiny, miniscule moment, I realized something that I’d been denying for years.
I love him.
But I digress. I suppose the best place to start is, simply, at the beginning:
It was really a very slow day, as many days working in retail go. Customers come in, you put on the bright happy face, fix their problems, wish them a nice day… lather, rinse, repeat. It’s a very tedious job, retail. But as I’m sure everyone has experienced at least once, there are always a few days when something happens; and, for that short time, you don’t mind your job.
As my body began its excruciatingly monotonous task of wrapping gifts (by that point I could run on autopilot through the day and never truly pay much attention to what I was doing), I smiled brightly at the customer before me, and engaged myself in the trivial conversation they had started. It was always the same conversation, pretty much, during the holiday season.
“I see you got a lot of shopping done.”
“Oh yes, and I’ve only touched the tip of the ice burg…”
“You must have a lot of people to shop for…”
“Well my son just recently got married, so new in-laws this year…”
A sage nod of the head, expressing my understanding as though I knew exactly what the customer meant. My hands continued working as my mind drifted off to other places – places where the clock didn’t move SO FRIGGIN’ SLOW!!! Just a couple more hours and I’d be done for the day… mmm cigarette break when I get home… nice hot cup of Earl Grey tea…. maybe a bit of personal time with that foot massager my feet have been screaming for all day….
“…ven’t even got the tree up yet if you can believe it.”
Cue laugh and wry look of understanding in… 5, 4, 3, 2….
“Oh I know what you mean! Everything’s just so hectic this time of year.”
“Oh, definitely. And the traffic around here! I thought I’d never get a parking spot…”
“Yeah traffic has definitely gotten worse around here through the years.”
“Oh yes! I remember when…”
One more present… I discreetly glance at the line of waiting people, calculating a guesstimate of how many more customers we’d have between myself and my two other co-workers. Elves, as I’d come to call us in the privacy of my own mind. Gift-wrap did have its moments at times.
I glanced very surreptitiously at the clock. An hour and a half exactly left….
“Oh thank you so much! I really love that ya’ll still do gift-wrap – so many other stores stopped doing it, and I just hate wrapping presents when there’s so much else to do…”
“Oh it’s no problem. baddies west izle That’s what we’re here for.”
“You have a nice day!”
“Oh, you too!”
Cue big smile… keep it on for the next customer….
“Hi, how may I help you?”
I sighed internally as I geared up for another repetitive conversation – they did vary, of course, but even after just a week they do tend to repeat themselves quite often. My hands still moved on autopilot, my mind still drifted to all the wonderful things awaiting my return home, and my mouth continued working out of sync with my brain. Somehow, however, I managed to hear a slight incongruence in the flow of the conversation as another voice bled through fantasy 5 – the lovely Earl and I having a nice quiet cuddle on the couch.
“Excuse me, is Sabrina in?”
I looked up from my task and
My heart felt like it had just exploded in my chest and my pulse was pounding in my ears. Every nerve in my body went haywire, I felt. Small jolts still ran through me as I composed myself in record time.
“Yes she is. I’ll call her right now and if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, I’m sure she’ll be out to see you shortly.”
Hair… eyes… my GODDESS that Mouth! Ooo… niiiiiiiice ass, too. Is it hot in here…?
“Have a nice day!” I belatedly spouted after handing the most recent customer her wrapped packages. I caught her as she was walking away, however. I put on another bright smile for the next customer as my supervisor interviewed who’d I’d come to call The Hotness.
A guy in gift-wrap? That’s weird…
Hot Guy’s being INTERVIEWED?! As in… work here interviewed???? Oh hell am I ever screwed…
“Have a nice day, ma’am!”
The smile on my face felt more like something between a grimace and the tension you can only really get in those moments when you want to both laugh and scream simultaneously…
“Hi! How may I help you?”
Mmm screwed… god it’s been forever… I mean the Earl’s just great, and that foot massage seriously has my name all over it, but….
“I’m sorry; we’re out of the gold bows. Would you like to see how red or green might look?”
“Sure! Actually I think the red might look better anyways.”
“Okay, ma’am, I’ll be right back!”
Addy!! For goddess’ sake just WORK already! I mean the chances of him working in gift-wrap…
Did you SEE that mouth?
Okay, okay, definitely thinking naughty thoughts…
You’re at WORK, woman! Compose yourself!
I almost grimaced as the whine in my head annoyed even myself… and almost giggled out loud as I got the faint image of a devil-me and angel-me sitting on either shoulder during my internal debate. I picked up the bows from the shelf and moved to take them to the service desk.
Oops. That’s not red…
And that’s not green, either…
DAMNIT!! Pull it together!
Putting down the silver and blue bows I’d mistakenly picked up and hastily grabbing the *right* colours this time, I moved *again* to take them to the service desk.
“Oh the red just looks lovely… I think I’ll take that.”
“Do you want it fluffed now or would you prefer to fluff it at home? Some people don’t like them getting squished…”
“Oh fluffed now is fine, they’ll just get squished before I can fluff them at home anyways.”
The jovial laugh of the customer I was helping helped quiet the noise in my head slightly, and thankfully it stayed quiet for the remainder of my shift.
After that particularly confusing first meeting, I grew progressively *worse*, if you could believe it.
Most times when a person is around something that affects them so strongly for so long, it eventually has a somewhat anaesthetizing effect. The longer you’re exposed to it, the more capable you are of controlling your reaction to it; and thusly, the less it affects you.
This, however, was not the case with Hot Guy.
Eventually my supervisor introduced us, and I found out that Mr. Hotness was, indeed, going to be working in the gift-wrap department during the holiday season. My initial reaction was, of course, supreme glee that not only would I have extra ogling time allotted, but that working in such close proximity, I could actually get to know the object of my recent affections. (And I use the term “affections” quite loosely at this juncture.)
Then the most important part of that realization hit me square between the eyes: working in such close proximity.
I realized then, though obviously to a much lesser degree than what it developed into, that I would never really be able to *work* again.
And so… I spent my days occasionally talking to him, finding different topics; different excuses barbarians izle to speak with him; and feeling more jittery by the day than I would had I suddenly developed a taste for the evils of coffee and drank ten cups in one sitting. Simply looking at him sent jolts of electricity through my body – being near him was a matter in and of itself.
I started wearing somewhat more revealing clothes. Of course, it was still appropriate to work in, but specifically designed for two reasons: to perhaps attract some attention of my own and to alleviate some of the intense heat I physically felt when simply standing beside him.
He was a piece of work, most definitely. Shoulder-length, dyed hair that seemed a bit too stuck between blonde and brunette to truly qualify as either; though one could tell by the small amount of roots showing that his natural colour was a deep chocolate brown. It layered in waves around his face, and I was actually somewhat jealous of the natural volume it possessed. His eyes were hazel, and quirked up just ever-so-slightly in the corners, giving him a somewhat more exotic appearance than your everyday hunk-of-manly-goodness. His mouth was small and thin, but plump and quite inviting.
Overall, his facial features gave him a somewhat masculine, but pixy-ish look. As though, if one could base personality from facial features, he was a strong, yet mischievous sort of person. The angles of his face, though softly rounded and somewhat feminine, gave the impression that he was a well-rounded creature of both subtlety and strength in equal measure. His nose, though very slightly crooked (and only really noticed if you’re as short as I and the view up one’s nose is quite frequently the case), turned up just a bit at the tip. He was definitely quite an attractive creature: only five feet and perhaps eight or nine inches in height and all of one-hundred and fifty pounds soaking wet… but he carried about him a *presence*. Charisma is perhaps the word. There was just something about him that drew me to him. The word sexy came to mind quite a bit when I looked at him… and look at him I did quite a bit.
My talks with him during our working hours became somewhat frequent, though not by any means truly distracting from our job. Obviously he’d not had much experience in “professional” gift wrapping, and so I wound up teaching him a few tricks – one of which was how to fold a robe. He was obviously having a bit of a time of it, so I folded it and boxed it for him. I remember quite clearly his response to my helping him, mainly because it both piqued my interest and sent butterflies on an uproar in my stomach.
“You’ll make a man a good wife someday.”
Of course, it was his way of saying I had a knack for the more mundane things which women throughout history have been stereotyped for; however, I didn’t really mind the stereotype. It was a very good compliment, indeed, and shockingly didn’t seem at all suggestive (somewhat to my dismay.)
Another particularly memorable moment was a day when he had a headache… I never knew watching someone take pain pills could appear so erotic until I saw the shape of that perfect mouth of his wrap around the straw to his drink…
One day I finally decided, against my extremely shy nature, mind you, to take the plunge and give him my phone number. I spent the better part of the entire day thinking of ways to do so: practicing how I would word it, what my body language would be, the tone of voice I’d use; and, finally, nearing the end of my shift, I wrote down on a name card with my phone number that he “seemed interesting” and I “wished to get to know him better.”
Then promptly convinced my co-worker to give it to him after I’d left.
Addy, thy name is coward.
Cowardly or not, to my own surprise and intense pleasure, he did call. I’ve heard quite frequently that the “usual waiting period” is around 3 or so days… but it had yet to be quite 2 days when my phone rang and, lo and behold, I heard his voice on the other end. Hands shaking, I began what was probably a very awkward conversation starter.
We wound up talking for the better part of 2 or 3 hours – mostly about nothing at all, really. I’d already known from our work-talks that he had a daughter, which dissipated my interest slightly due to me being but 17 years old at the time with no designs on having a family so soon – let alone a ready-made one getting involved with him. I also assumed he was married, and yes, I checked for a ring…
After finding out he wasn’t married, however, that small hope of perhaps having a chance with someone who, because of my own past, I assumed was miles out of my “league” and whom I was definitely not good enough for, sprung up slightly again. Talking to him on the phone, I felt somewhat akin to a ping-pong ball, however, when I found out that he *did* have a girlfriend, though not his daughter’s mother, bay patrol izle and then that their relationship was “shaky.”
At that point, I’d been bounced around so many different and varying emotions in such a small amount of time that I really was willing to settle for just getting to know him. I wasn’t sure whether or not I really wanted to attempt to “get” him, due to various different circumstances in both my own life and his , and I definitely wasn’t sure whether or not any attentions of mine would even be welcome.
I’m the kind of person that my attention bounces around constantly and very rarely ever sticks on one thing. However, when it does stick… it *really* sticks. I have a very addictive personality. Things I like, I *really* like: bordering on obsession. Of course, this usually applies to mainly musical interests, movies, television shows, and the like… but it’s been known to happen with people, too.
My first real “boyfriend” was like that. I saw him and was drawn to him implicitly, spoke to him and we immediately took a DISlike to each other, and then through circumstance and fate, I gradually grew to love him in a somewhat short time span. Though it took much longer for him to feel the same, he did eventually love me in return – only to have that taken away when I realized that I was devoting so much of myself to HIM, that I wasn’t giving anything to myself. Given that at that point in my life, I was locked up and miserable every day of my life due to that lifestyle, I couldn’t afford that luxury; and had to force myself to break up with him. At the time, it was possibly the hardest moment of my life. In retrospect, it still is, although I honestly cannot see how it could have happened any other way.
Because of this and many occurrences in my much further removed past, however, I am a very shy and quite introverted person. I do not go out of my way to meet people, and when I do I rarely open up enough to really talk to them other than casual conversation. I skitter around more lurid topics, and tend to be very nervous around new people. Even people I’ve known for some time have received this reaction, although given time and an increased level of comfort, I do and will eventually open up and allow people to see “the real me.”
Growing up, I was a very shy, nervous girl who tried her best not to intrude in many people’s lives. In school, I was the “ugly, fat girl”, although most people ignored me as opposed to pointing out my obvious faults. I was also, however, a brilliant student. The rate at which I absorbed information astounded my teachers so much that, upon entering third grade, they put me in advanced classes. I think this also had some bearing on my classmates’ obvious disdain for me, however, at the time I buried my intense desire to “fit in”, and concentrated on schoolwork and trying my best to be the “honour student.” For me, education and intelligence has always ranked very highly on my list of priorities as far as what kind of person I’ve always wanted to be went.
Because of this, however, I wound up spending perhaps ninety percent plus of my time reading, writing, and engrossing myself in other worlds where the fantasies seemed much more appealing than real life. At five years of age, my grandfather committed suicide, and though it hit me extremely hard, it also forced me to open my eyes to the world around me much younger than many normally do. From that age on, I had also been forced by my existing parents (my mother and grandmother) to attend counseling. This continued well into my late teens.
By the age of eleven, I had grown into my body a bit more. I really wouldn’t say I was “skinny” by any means, and truly did not have enough curves yet to be “filled out” or even “voluptuous”; however, I wasn’t really considered the “fat girl” anymore. Although, even though I had attended O.M. (Odyssey of the Mind – a program which encouraged children to learn about a particular subject [Impressionistic period artwork was my group’s subject], and write and act out a play designed to further that subject. I really do hope the program still exists – it was a wonderfully involving learning tool.), the school’s Chess Team, various different special projects the school put together (such as designing and creating small wetland ponds within the school’s landscape, and different large-scale art projects such as a “tree” sculpture featuring many of the student’s likenesses captured in plaster, portraying the varying races, features, and ages of the students attending the school in tandem), and the school’s Step Team (aka small-league middle school cheerleading), I was still the person most people ignored and was fast becoming extremely depressed.
I would read well into the wee hours of the morning, and in turn be just simply too exhausted to have any interest in going to school the next day. I’ve never really been much of a morning person, (and that’s putting it lightly…), but the occurrence became increasingly frequent and in turn, the school wound up calling D.S.S. to report me for truancy. At first, I didn’t really *miss* school so much as I was late for it, but once I found out they were counting it tantamount to, I just didn’t go at all and slept through the better part of two to three weeks.