Some people trip over a crack in the sidewalk and meet the love of their life. Some people are walking down the street, lost in a text message, when they literally stumble onto their destiny. Others don’t have romance on their radar when they fall off the diving board and into the relationship that makes them whole. In other words, love finds them and not the other way around.
I’d never been one of those people. Romantic. Dreamer. Idealist. I’d been called them all. Those nicknames never bothered me because I knew, knew it down to the marrow of my bones that the love of my own life was not too far away.
In my mind, the scenario was complete.
Our eyes would meet across a crowded room.
No, that was not right.
Let’s take it from the top.
He’d become aware of me first, unable to wrench his eyes away from my glossy midnight-colored waves (thank you Italian heritage and superb genetics). They would tumble around my shoulders elegantly and I’d be wearing an outfit that elongated my short legs (stubs, as my cousins call them. Rude.). The world’s strongest man couldn’t pull him away from his mission to approach me. When my man caught sight of me, his world would stop until we spoke.
In my mind, the moment that I met him was flawless.
Except, reality had a different idea.
Because when I found the man destined to be mine, he hardly took a second look. Every time we met after, he saw me as nothing more than a friend to his sister. In fact, most of the moments when we interacted, he scarcely paid attention to me. Many nights before I fell asleep, I wondered if he knew that I existed at all.
Despite all that, my gut kept telling me that I was meant to be with him. I was not giving up. No matter what.
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Pressure Point
RomanceI know what you’re thinking. It’s unconventional to want a man nine years older than you. It’s inconvenient to crush on your dearest friend’s older brother. It’s silly to pine after a man for six years. It’s cliché to lust after a celebrity. I...
