Girl in the Back

The first time we met I would have never guessed that this would be the guy that finally made me fall in love. This is the story of how we first met.

I had a meeting that Monday morning.  I came in early, or so I thought. When I walked into the meeting room, I realized I was more like the last person to come in. I took a seat in the back. I figured I'd get some studying done too during the breaks. I didn't really pay much attention to the people around me. What I didn't know was that a certain someone was paying very close attention. 

I kept to myself and tried to pay attention to the lecture. During one of the breaks, all of us were experiencing technical issues, so one of the guys in front of me decided to send an email to IT on all our behalf. When he got to my name, he turned around and asked, "How do you pronounce your last name?"

I pronounced it and then they asked me to pronounce it again. The girl to the left asked, "So what ethnicity are you?" 

"Take a guess."

For a few minutes, everyone was silent. One girl looked as though she was going to say something but held back, thinking again. Finally, the tall guy with the glasses and the thick flowy hair spoke. 

He asked, "Are you South Indian?"

"Yes," I said. I was stunned, surprised. I didn't fit the standard stereotype of a South Indian. I was tall, fair skinned, the opposite of dark and short.

"Are you Tamil?"

"No, I'm Malayalee. How did you know that?"

"Your last name. I've been to India before." 

"Really? Where?"

"Delhi, Agra . . ."

Prior to that moment, all I noticed the back of his head and even then, still didn't notice anything much other than the dark flowy head of hair that he had. It was longer than most guys' and thick, the kind you could run your hands through.

According to him, he said he had noticed me from the moment I walked in through the door. He noticed the dark blue top and skirt I wore. When I took my seat in the back, I became "the girl in the back" in his mind. I asked him more than once when he said that phrase and he would never explain. 

We went through the rest of the training without any more technically difficulties. We took a break for lunch and we kept talking, getting to know each other better: where he went to school, origins, etc. The more he talked, the more interested I became. What really got me was that he was well traveled. Europe, Uzbekistan, etc. I was in awe. 

I continued to multi-task. At the end of the training we were heading to a bowling event. I did not do much bowling. I was never much of a good bowler as it was. I was more interested in getting to know him better. The entire team was there but I sat at a table of three that eventually it became four. It was a rather diverse table: myself, Leslie (a Hispanic girl), him, and Ella (an older woman). He told us more stories of his travels. One story stood out to me in particular. 

He was telling us about this hole in the ground in Turkmenistan in the Karakum Desert. It is a crater created decades ago and the flames within have been burning ever since. The locals call it the Door to Hell. Even the trek to get there was a little crazy. A long drive and then a 20? mile trek from the road and then you finally get to the giant burning hole. 

"You went to go see that?!"

"I didn't get to. They rejected my visa."

I sat and laughed. It was the most absurd thing I had heard. During our talks, we all would get up and go bowl when it was our individual turns. He was a really good bowler and when I asked him how often he would bowl, he said rarely. The more we talked, the more eager I was in getting to know him better. It felt like drinking from the ocean. The more I learned, the more I wanted to know.

What I didn't know at the time was that he was spellbound by "the girl in the back" from the minute she walked in through the door at training. For him, the bowling event was just an opportunity to get to know her. The more he got to know her, the more he liked her. For every time he had to go up there and bowl, he come running back to the table.

Once it was over, I needed a ride to the train station to get back to my car. Ryan, one of the team members, offered to drop me off, as well as drop David back off to the hotel. I took shot gun but what I really wanted to do was sit in the back and talk to him more. Later, I found out he had felt the same way. We said by once we got to the station.

I would be seeing a lot more of this tall, well traveled, dorky guy. I never thought this would be the guy to change everything I knew about myself.

The next things to happen are found in Chocolate Kisses and First Love
http://reverse-cinderella-stories.blogspot.com/2015/04/chocolate-kisses.html
http://reverse-cinderella-stories.blogspot.com/2015/11/first-love.html

First Love

Even as turbulent and crazy as our relationship got, there was always one day, one moment that I never forgot. Even when things got bad, I would hold on to that one day in time. It was the day I realized I was in love with him.

We had known each other for a while at that point, spending time with each other quite often. I knew I had fallen for him, but I didn’t realize it ran deeper than just that. One day, he had a 4 hour layover in my city. We had planned to get dinner together, probably our favorite semi-Mexican place. I counted down the hours and minutes, until I got out of work. I even left a little earlier than usual. Luckily for me, the train near my office went straight to the airport.

As I jumped on the train, I thought about the little moments, all ones we had shared together since we met. I felt a happiness, a warmth that filled me. At the time, I just chucked it up to giddiness at the prospect of seeing him. Upon arriving at the airport terminal, I went down the escalators to the Delta arrivals/departures area. I was just about to call him to ask where he was, when I saw him. He was dressed in his usual hipster attire: jeans, scarf, shirt, and a jacket I hated. He didn’t have the raging beard that I loved. Instead, it was a much more manageable scruff. I missed the beard. The thing that got me was the smile on his face, big and bright.

Part of me wanted to run to him but I forced myself to walk, though I walked very very quickly. The entire time I was smiling so hard my face was hurting. When I finally reached him, I fell into his arms and wrapped mine around him. I hugged as hard as I could. In that moment, I was happy, utterly, completely, happy. The warmth inside had turned into a blazing fire and it was wonderful. That moment felt like forever but in reality it was probably only a few minutes. And I cherished each one. It was in that moment that I realized I was in love. Not just falling for him, but a love that touches your soul and fills every cell in your body with hope. And just like that, I was in love for the very first time in my life.

Chocolate Kisses

Kisses, unexpected kisses. Sometimes on the head, sometimes the shoulders, but my favorite were the ones on the lips. Soft and gentle. Not at all like the first time. The first time, to be honest, was pretty awful on his part: too fast, too much tongue, too much everything. Nevertheless, I liked them. They were earnest and sweet, like the person giving them. They were also very inexperienced in the beginning. In his defense, he’d always say, “I hadn’t kissed a girl in a very long, long time. Then, I met you.”

I actually had to tell him to slow down. Before him, my friends had always told me that you have to train a guy to kiss the way you like. Until him, I didn’t understand that.

We were hanging out in his room. He had offered me something to drink, multiple times too, until I finally accepted. The thought did pass through my head that he may very well be trying to get me drunk, but what I did notice was the nervous energy around him. I didn’t understand why though. He kept asking if I wanted to go out to dinner. I’d look at the clock and say, “It’s only 5:40. Are you hungry? We can go if you are.” He’d shake his head each time. Looking back, I can see he wanted to get me out of the room for fear of screwing things up. I think it was inevitable, even if it hadn’t happened the way it did.

He kept roaming around the room as I sat in the chair. It added to the nervous energy about him. Later he told me it was testing out a hypothesis. He kept moving to see if my body would move towards his direction. Each time he moved to a different direction, he said I would move my feet or my body to point towards him. That is how he knew.

Eventually he stopped moving around and asked me if I wanted to watch TV. I shrugged my shoulders and agreed. Later, I found out it was because I took my jacket off. It gave him the idea that may be I’d be sticking around longer than he thought. He started flipping through the channels, asking me if I had a preference. I didn’t. Eventually, I moved over to where he was sitting, siding up besides him, shoulder to shoulder. We continued to talk as he flipped through the channels, until we got to one with elevator music, showing different landscapes and such. As we were talking, he looked down at me. The inches he had on me always had me looking up at him. 

As I replied to something he said, I looked up at him and smiled. It was one of those moments, when it happened. The next thing I know his lips are mine, his tongue invading my mouth. 

Overwhelmed. That’s how I felt. To me it was unexpected and I didn’t see it coming. Looking back now, the signs were all there. I just refused to notice.

My mind was trying to catch up to my body, to the lips on mine, to the rough 5 o’clock brushing up against my skin. Once it did, however, I broke away from the kiss and looked at him. 

"What's wrong?"
"You need to slow down."

He moved in for another kiss. This was worse. Our teeth bumped and kept bumping after every try. I gave a little push, coming up for air. I burst out laughing, as he looked at me confused. 

When I finally caught my breathe, I looked up at him again. 

"You need to slow down. Bumping teeth while kissing is not normal."
"May be you're not doing it right."
I gave him a look. 
"Ok I'm going to do something and I need you to do nothing, while I do it. Think you can do that?"

He nodded. I leaned over to him, moving closer to his lips. 

I paused, just hovering above his lips, before I placed mine on his. I kissed him, slowly, loving the lack of teeth bumping. 

I pulled away. His eyes were still closed, savoring the moment. 

"That's how you kiss."
"It's been a while for me."
"I could tell."

He ducked his head, a little embarrassed. I chuckled. The tables were turned. 

I swooped in for a quick kiss. He smiled and returned the one I gave him. 

We kept at it for a little bit, until I noticed something on his arm. They were brownish splotches on his skin. 

"What's wrong with your arm?"

He looked down, noticing it for the first time. I tried rubbing it, but no such luck. 

"I swear this wasn't there before."

While I'm rubbing his arm, he noticed something on my shirt and began laughing. 

"What?"

"Look at your shirt."

I look down and notice the same colored splotches on my black polka dot top. Then I look down at the sheets under us. I notice the same thing on it as well. I get up and I finally see the melted chocolate squares on the bed. He takes one, popping it into his mouth. 

"It's still good."

I fall back onto the bed, laughing. He pulls me into his arms, his lips finding mine. 

I taste the chocolate on his tongue and I smile against his lips. 

See You Again

"We've come a long way from where we began. I'll tell you all about it when I see you again."

They say when you love someone, they can never really die. So long as you carry your memories of them, they're never truly gone. I believe it.

Sometimes I wake up unable to remember your voice or the way you laughed. I just see your face, smiling. I hate that I'm forgetting bits of you. It scares me, considering how much you meant to all of me, to all of us. It's been ten years and not a year goes by when I don't think about you.

I wonder what you'd think if you saw me now. I'd like to think you'd be happy for me, that you'd still be that cousin sister I'd talk to. I had another cousin pass away the way you did. It made me remember you and all the times we had. You took me to my first R-rated movie. You covered up my eyes during the sex scenes. It was Alexander with Colin Farrell, terrible movie, but I was excited. I watched it with you and the rest of the older cousins. The summer before I finally got be one of your dance students, when you taught us a dance for Ammachi's surprise 70th birthday party. Granted we messed up a ton when we performed it and I was too focused on imitating the person in front of me to notice that you were in the back of the crowd doing all the moves along with us. You were a dancer, an older cousin-sister, and a great listener. Nothing and no one can ever take your place.

"How could we not talk about family when family's all that we got?"

I wish we talked about you more. No one ever mentions your name in the family. I think the last time I heard yours was when I talked about you with Stef. You looked out for us as kids, talked to us, kept in touch. No family is ever the same after a loss like that. Ours isn't and I don't think it ever will. The closest we got was when I threw that 25th anniversary party for my parents. We had all the cousins, young and old, in the basement. We drank together, played flip cup together, and we took care of one another. I'd like to imagine you'd be there and stayed up late with us, instead of going to bed earlier like the older ones. Probably would have been the one to take care of Jakey, when he started throwing up. Knowing you, you'd probably have given a lecture the next morning too. Whatever it is you'd have done, I know we'd have loved you for it.

Since you left, sometimes I think about the other path that you could have taken. But I know that's not our reality. Since you've been gone, I see the world differently. It taught me that nothing lasts, the good nor the bad. You taught me to appreciate the moment you're in; that no matter how bad things are right now, it'll get better. I can appreciate the good moments better because of you; I can live in them because I know they might not be there tomorrow. I don't know if I'd have that without you.

As much as this still hurts a decade later, I hope wherever you are, that you're happy. I hope that the pain is gone. I hope that you found peace and I hope that you found your way home. I'll hold on to the memories and that love will never be lost.

"It's been a long day without you my friend. And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again."

Snapshots II

We were fire and ice. I always ran warm while he ran cold. I loved all things warm. While others complained about the 80 degree weather, I welcomed it. There’s something about summer that I just loved wholeheartedly. Him? Well let’s just say he was the exact opposite. Mountains, snow, and multiple layers of clothes, that was his thing.

It made sleeping in the same bed a little difficult.

His constant complaint was that sleeping next to me felt like sleeping next to a body heater, except in human form. He’d move away from me at some point, but he got stuck with the girl whose body honed in on any sources of heat. Over the course of the night he’d wake up once again with me glued to his side.

On one such night I woke up with him hovering inches away from my face. Lucky for him, I was completely out of it. Confused, I looked over at the clock. It read 3am. I looked back at him and asked, “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you were breathing.”

“Why wouldn’t I be breathing?”

“You’re burning up. I just wanted to see if you were still alive.”

“As you can tell, I’m breathing. Go back to bed.” I turned back onto my side.

“One more thing though.”

I turned back to face him annoyed.

“What?”

“Just this.”

  He kissed me and promptly turned his back to me. Amused, I placed a kiss on the back of his neck and turned over on my side, facing away from him. A second later I felt his arms wrap around me. 

Of course, the next morning he complained about how he couldn't get any sleep what with the human furnace he slept next to. 

Snapshots

                There was a night when we were hanging out at his place. He was cooking. I was sitting at the counter watching him. Music was playing on the stereo system. For the life of me I can’t remember now what the song was, as much as I try to. He was swaying to the music as he took the spoon to check the sauce. Instead of bringing it to his lips, he brought it to mine and said, “Try it.” I took a sip and took a moment to savor the taste. It was good but being my smart aleck self, I replied, “It’s good, just not good as mine.” He laughed and said, “Well next time we can switch places. You cook; I critique.” I laughed and stuck my tongue out at him. There was always something about him that brought out the little kid in me. He tried the sauce himself and said out loud, “It needs a little more salt.”

“You should know by now that I’m terrible at knowing if there’s enough salt in the food. Dad with high blood pressure and cholesterol problems, remember?” I said pointing at myself. He laughed and continued with his cooking. Suddenly, he lifted his head and stopped his cooking and looked right at me.

“What?” I asked him, confused by his actions.  

                Suddenly, he put the spoon down and came around the counter to my side. He pulled me by my hand and led me out to the middle of the room. I looked at him, bewildered by his randomness. I raised my eyebrow, silently questioning him. He just laughed. He took one of my hands in his, intertwining our fingers, and placing the other one on his shoulder. His other hand slid down to my waist, reaching the small of my back. We started swaying to the music, probably off beat but neither of us cared in that moment. I was caught up in the look in his eyes. I had seen it occasionally in the eyes of friends who had the misfortune to fall in love with me, but this time it was different. I knew if you took a photo of us in that moment you would see that look reflected in my own eyes. I was madly, deeply in love with this man.

The song ended. He resumed cooking and I went back to my place by the counter, watching him. Try as I may I couldn't get tired of watching him. Guess that's what love is.

It was random moments like this that made me fall harder for him. He was unpredictable, very random, and prone to doing little acts of love.

If I had to pick a song that fits that night perfectly, it would be "We don't have to take our clothes off" by Ella Eyre. Thank you Youtube.

Life musings, Pooh Bear, & whatnot

“Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.” 
                                                                              - Winnie the Pooh 

Sometimes life gets busy, crazy. You get caught up in all the wrong priorities and forget all the important things. You could say that's what happened to me but unlike most I was aware of what was happening. I knew and didn't do anything to stop it. I had the usual excuses. Work was hectic-ish, there was soo much to study, my exam is right around the corner, there's so much to do, etc.

But the problem of prioritizing all those things, not that they're not important, is that it leaves you feeling isolated, lonely, and slightly crazy. And I was certainly going crazy. I had become the friend that had to always say "Sorry, I can't. Have to study, work, etc." I became the daughter that would come home at 10pm from work, say a quick hi and go straight to bed. There would be days that would go bye where I didn't see my own parents. This is despite the fact that I live with them, I was probably also starting to become a shitty sister. I barely knew what was going on in my brothers' lives or bothered to ask. If I had a boyfriend around this time, I'd probably make a shitty girlfriend. It felt as though my life was at an absolute standstill, wrapped up in work and studying, while everyone around me got to live.

Along the way I was also losing myself, the part of what made me Me. And believe it or not, the girl who used to enjoy her solitude for the most part, was starting to fear the idea of spending her life alone, despite the fact that the idea of a house on a beach, a few kids, and a dog still seems like the dream. I guess there's something about having the people around you finding significant others, getting engaged, getting married had be feeling like the turtle from the turtle and the hare fable. I had become withdrawn, quieter, less social and outgoing. And it was eating away at my sanity, despite the fact that this life was my choice and I made it a year ago knowing that it was the best considering my circumstances in the here and now.

Then, about a week ago I found out my cousin passed away. Suddenly, everything turned upside down. I put my priorities list on hold for a moment. I started coming home early to spend time with the people I love. I'd come home and sit and actually talk to my parents. Anyone who meets my parents knows that they always have interesting stories to tell. Unlike me, they have lives, my mom, especially. She told me about this 80 year old lady she met on her flight back home from the funeral, how they spent the entire plane ride talking to each other.

Sitting there talking to the two of them, I remembered all that I had put to the side in favor of work and the CPA. I have a pretty great relationship with my parents, despite the fact that I live with them. It took time and not a few hurdles and troubles before we got to where we are right now, but I wouldn't take any of it back. Sometime in college I came to realize that my parents are people too and not just my parents. Not just that, there will be a day when they won't be here anymore, because at some point we all die. The last thing I want is to spend our days arguing and staying mad over the little things. Granted, it's easier said than done, especially after moving back home after college, But, it doesn't change the fact that at the end of the day they're the ones who stay by your side when all else goes to hell.  

As much as my cousin's death pained me, it also reminded me of everything that I had, all the relationships in my life. It gave me a little part of myself back. May not be much but it's a good starting point to rebuilding who I am. As much as I complain about my life/schedule right now, I still have it pretty damn great. Sure I don't have a life between work and studying and the concept of the weekend makes no difference to me. But, I know at the end of this part of my journey, I know I'll have people waiting for me. I just need to make sure there's a me to get to the finish line.

 So yes my life will still be work and studying until I pass this last exam, Just now, I can see what's waiting for me at the end of this road and if I remember not lose myself along the way, I should be ok.


" 'I don’t feel very much like Pooh today,' said Pooh.
'There there," said Piglet. "I’ll bring you tea and honey until you do.' "
                                                                         - Winnie the Pooh

Two Days with My Grandmother

About a week ago my cousin passed away. My mother, my grandmother, my aunt, and I went to both the wake and the funeral. Obviously a somber occasion. You won't find too many people cracking jokes or not thinking about death. We sat near the back row and well, it gave a pretty good view of anyone coming in to give their condolences to the family and pay their respect to the dead.

One group that came in caught my attention, mainly because one of them looked very family. Then I realized I knew one of them. He was a friend and I say friend loosely since I hadn't spoken to him in years. My mother, on the other hand, recognized him immediately. She asked, "Isn't that S?"
I replied, "Yes."

My grandmother, having overheard my mother, quickly buts in, asking, "Who?"
Mom replies, "Oh he's so and so's son."
"What does he do?"
"He's a d_____."
My grandmother turns to me and says, "Do you know him?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Do you have his number?"
"No and we're at a wake!"
But of course it didn't stop there.

The next day after the funeral my grandmother and I walked to the car to grab our coats. She asked again, "Did S____ come?"
"No."

Then, that very afternoon as we waited for our flight, she turned to me and asked yet again, "So you don't have his number?"
"No I don't." I didn't bother asking who the "he" she was referring to was.
"You should talk to him, before it's too late."
I just gave her a look and laughed to myself. I said what I always say to her when she brings up the subject of my singlehood.
"Sure , . ."

Another time during the trip . . .
On the drive from the office to the hotel my family was talking about how potential guys to set me up with and got on the topic of "qualifications." Somewhere in that conversation I put in my input which was, "I want a tall guy."
"How tall?"
"Six feet?"
"You're never finding a guy."
"Looks fall away, waistlines expand, but a person's height doesn't really change."
They had no response to that.


FYI I said the six foot thing just to piss off my grandmother, not because the guy I date has to be that height or taller. Personally, I think that's just setting myself up for disaster.