From Our Readers: "I Kept Reminding Myself Not to Like You"
I don't even like you. I'd lie if I say you aren't good-looking, but I swear you weren't even my type of guy. You kept bugging me to help you on things, acting as if you only have the capacity to think like a seven-year-old boy and can't handle adult stuff. You'd always, always, fill the spot next to me whenever my seatmate is absent. You're quiet around everyone but we always have conversations, and you'd start a topic with a question that I know you already know the answer. Witnesses would say it's like we have a world of our own.
You'd message me about the moon and how beautiful the night is. I thought that was really sappy and corny for someone who looks like some badass chap in a leather jacket. You want me to repeat every compliment I give you—for the third time, and the fourth, then the fifth. You'd leave notes on my table, then I'll write you back, and you'd leave another note the next day and I'll be writing you back again. It's really too cute.
There were many obvious signals. I kept brushing off that small voice inside of me saying there's something reeeally strange about your actions, but another voice would contradict that it's impossible. You're good-looking and I'm just your average nerdy girl with glasses and braces to complete the set.
Guys like you would date girls in long tresses, with pretty makeup, and well-groomed eyebrows, a head-turner who can pull off a choker-matched-with-an-off-shoulder outfit, someone who wears white sneakers, someone who's petite, someone who smells like a walking Victoria's Secret perfum, or someone who just came out of the bath smelling like shampoo.
You and me dating? That would be the biggest joke ever. I know my place in this society and I know I can't be that girl you'd celebrate Valentine's Day with. I had a crush back then, it wasn't you, but I kept seeing you over a crowd of people. I thought I saw you back then, on Christmas Eve after the final blessings of a mass. I might have accidentally wished for you. I might have started falling for you then.
I don't know what you did. I don't know what you kept doing until now. I hate you, but I think I like you.