My Usual Please

My entry for the Valentine's Day competition.
Enjoy.

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3. Post Valentines

Once again I returned to my coffee shop of gloom, and repeated my usual routine. Coffee, scowling and misery. I had spent the dreaded day eating chocolate and watching Moulin Rouge, Chocolat and Pretty Woman. Texts were left without responses, calls unanswered, healthy diet abandoned; solitude appeared to be the theme of the day. When I finally turned my phone on, I found several texts, mostly from him, enquiring after my health, my activities for the day and finally questioning my lack of response. I had fallen into a troubled sleep, only to find myself wide awake again at 4am. Facebook seemed to be the desired destination in the early hours of this morning, so I pulled my laptop onto my knee. Great, 12 notifications and 2 messages; the same inane bollocks. Teenage angst, arguments and sucking up, my dashboard was filled. A ping alerted me of someone on chat. How did I know; it was him, even reading his name made my stomach flutter. His cute nickname for me began the message, followed by a description of how bad his day had been. His girlfriend had spent some of the day with him before ditching him to go out and he was currently at home doing his college work. I typed a quick and comforting reply, all the while my mind scolding me for being such an idiot and reminding me not to get too jealous. The stupid thing is, from the outside anyone would believe that I am a perfectly happy teen, healthy, smiley and confident, and not even he has any idea of the turmoil in my mind. I am no longer as confident in myself, I doubt whether or not I’m attractive, if I’m as smart as I thought I was and wonder if maybe my personality is a little bit too much. And all because some amazing guy is nice to me?! I didn’t exactly experience the fairytale ‘love and first sight’ crap with him. It was one of those situations when you meet someone and, at first, you think 'oh, you're cute'. Then as you get to know more about them, they become so much more. More than what you thought they would be. And suddenly they're one of the most important people in your life. And you gradually fall for them more and more. Their almost perfection continues to astound you and their charm dazzles you daily. You find yourself thinking about them more frequently as the weeks pass; they creep into your mind and find a residence. I know I’m going to reach that moment when I need to be the arsehole landlord, and kick him out of my head for not paying rent.

Sometimes I make silly romantic speeches up in my head, what I would say if I ever worked up the guts to tell you how I feel. Even as I write these silly words, I’m thinking of it. “I didn't mean to fall for you. I wanted to be friends. It's your fucking fault for being so perfect and amazing and everything I ever dreamed of. Sometimes I think I'd prefer it if you treated me with chilly indifference. But I know that I would only be miserable. I know you've got her; I just want you to be happy. Whether with me or without. It's worth the jealously to have those days and nights in your presence. The bliss of being around you. It's like anaesthetic from the pain of being without you. I don’t mean to be a hassle or to mess everything up for you, but you have a right to know. And since my hints aren’t hitting the spot I felt the need to explain. I’m not saying these words with any motive other than to let you know. I’m not expecting the romantic movie scene where I fall into your arms and we live happily ever after. I’m not expecting you to break up with her, nothing like that. Just, you have the right to know why, when I’m unhappy, I don’t always explain. And maybe you’ll stop worrying about me.”

So now I’ve got plans to go out with him tonight. We’re going to the cinema together. He’ll be helping me with college work this week. We’ve reached the point where if life were a film, if we were both single, we’d fall irrevocably in love. It’d happen while we were just talking and he’d lean over, one hand at the back of my head and kiss me. It’d be a beautifully tender moment. But life’s a bitch and I’m still sat in the same wretched coffee shop wishing for something to happen that I can’t control.

So this is my story of the weeks surrounding Valentine’s Day. Although a capitalist holiday designed to sell products; a day where magic is made. Where my old fashioned views on love are lived, chivalry is reincarnated, manners are stronger and where everyone who is in love can flaunt it. So, my darling, I wish you a Happy Valentines. No card, I apologise, but the sentiment exists none the less. I hope she makes you very happy.

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