Some love stories last a lifetime. Some last only a few minutes ....
Ok. So I wait for it to rain. Then I sneak up to the house and hold up a stereo under her window and lets it blare. (Peter Gabriel, who else? Tried and tested.). The over-protective dad comes out of the house to shoot me in the leg but the heart of the babe at the window has already been won. Now the babe at the window could be Winona Ryder (From Heathers, damn !! Was she cute?). Give her long hair. Make her wear glasses. Dress her up like a retard.
Cut to house. So I stand in the cold. Soaked in the rain. Holding up a stereo. Playing a love ballad. I'm freezing while the cute chick with body dysmorphic disorder sits by her mirror, warm and unhappy. They hate her in school because she isn't cool enough. She's introverted and intelligent and shoplifts from supermarkets in her free time. If she removed her glasses, she might become hot but she'd rather not.
So now I try to win her heart. Time seems to have stopped. Frozen. I cannot feel my legs or hands anymore. The song is too loud. Time passes. I see her shadow by the window. The curtains part, and she looks out. I try to give a weak smile. I'm tired. No one told me wooing a girl would be this difficult. Was it even worth it? I don't even like the song that plays. Would she expect the song to be played in the rain everytime she is unhappy? How can I ever better this? How will I impress her the next time or is this it? How much of her time does this buy me?
I wish I was home. Warm, dry and with a less intelligent but hotter woman who didn't need to be so much effort. Damn, look at her. Looking out of the window. The sky's a dreary grey and there's a gentle wind. Her hair's tied to reveal a slender white neck.The wind pulls at her dress. A strand of her hair comes loose and I watch it flutter in the wind, brushing against her cheek. Ok, So she is beautiful. It's in the lighting. The moonlight reflects of her face. And I see her eyes. The longing and sadness in them. The tears seem to have just dried up.
There is a melancholy beauty about all of this. I don't know how to react anymore. I feel stupid standing here with a stereo above my head. This wasn't how things were supposed to go.
Ok. So I get it. She is sad. She cries. She's been lonely. (Damn! This whole moments been overshadowed by her loneliness.)
(I do wish I was somewhere else.)
Loneliness is contagious.