Turntable

Isn’t it strange how your life can change from happy to sad to happy and then sad once again? If you say “no”, you are a damned liar. As part of human nature, we want what we can’t have. Whether it is that dress in the store window that is three sizes too small, that triple fudge cake on the dessert menu, or that cute guy that walks by your office every morning.

Did I say cute guy walking by the office? Yes, yes I did. Now, most women out there would just tell me to go for it. Easier said than done, you see, did I mention that “cute guy” is also married? I should have, shouldn’t I?

I think most women can just push the idea out of her collected head and know when she’s been licked. Oh not I. Not I. You see… I am not satisfied with not having what I want. I went to business schools, took night, day, morning classes, and got what I wanted in life. Why is it I still want that mystery man at work? I mean, my biological clock is ticking; however it is not my main concern here (although a factor).

Creature of desire perhaps? I’m not so base. Honestly, I don’t think of him as such a toy. Of course, I’ve played with the idea, but it just wouldn’t be right. No. He’s a man who can laugh. He’s a man who can be sensitive yet cruel. He rides a bicycle to work most mornings. Well rounded perfection of breeding, impeccable manners, and a smile reminiscent of a Hollywood Matinee Idol. I laugh just thinking about it.

One would think we know each other very well by the way I can describe his moods, his personality, everything about him, well… We have never spoken, although have brushed shoulders by the water cooler… I can still remember the scent of his cologne. Something foreign and exotic wraps me in a blanket of warmth whenever I smell it or remember the fragrance. Something so different, yet feels like home. His wife is one lucky lady.

Reality check, he is married. His name, Corey, is married.

Little is known of his wife, other than she’s blonde, blue-eyed, and hangs out at the spa on 7^th avenue. I don’t know her name, if she’s nice, if she deserves him. Maybe it is time to find out, right? Wrong.

Last obstacle with Mr. Perfect, is that I’m extremely shy. Not so shy to be non-social, quite the opposite, I happen to be very outgoing… with the exception of men who catch my eye. It is a curse since elementary school, and I still blame you, Mike.

I haven’t been very smooth as far as love life goes. Let’s backtrack to elementary school, and Mike, shall we?

It was the fall of 1988, and as so many good movies have shown us, flashbacks are never good, especially when you’re the new kid in town. But there I was, red headed, freckle faced, braces, zits, glasses, and a lisp. Oh yes, I was a vision of beauty to all eyes who befell me. Or so I loved to imagine.

We pulled into the drive of a townhouse semi-detached little piece of suburban hell, fully robin’s egg blue with pastel pink shutters. There stood on our lawn, a tubby boy my age whose shoulder was in the death grip of his father, who had the stereotypical Cheshire grin Mr.Welcome-to-the-Neighbourhood. Poor boy, he looked miserable. Little did I know I was looking at my boyfriend for the next three or four years.

Now, I don’t want to be mean, I don’t want to be nasty, but what can you expect out of a 13 year old couple who were together for the sole purpose of making your parents happy in some archaic modern betrothal? He was a pain in my ass. I didn’t want him as my boyfriend… so when ever he could embarrass me, he took the opportunity like a big juicy steak, like I really needed him to as I personified “geek”.

Not being the type to dwell over issues, I’ll give one example out of 15 or so. It was freshman year of high school, my hair was becoming shiny, I have discovered deodorant, and my mom finally decided to let me wear contact lenses. All in all, I wasn’t looking as horribly as I had the years previous, and notably feeling rather good about myself. Yes, I was a high school girl now. I could date high school boys. No. I could NOT date high school boys because I was glued to the hip with Mike, Mike who had joined the football team and decided he’d try being cool instead of the bully he was in elementary.

My supreme focus was Neil, the super-cute hottie who sat in front of me in Geography. If a ninth grader could get wet while gazing upon a boy, well then call me tsunami. He was GORGEOUS. Of course, he had the personality of a stump, but that never mattered to me at the time. It was someone who wasn’t Mike and didn’t smell like week-old nachos. The raven haired youth was all I needed to show my other half that I was my own person and could like who I could. Come to think of it, there were rumours of Neil reciprocating those “like like” feelings too, which fueled my fire all the more.

Naturally, kids are shy, so it took sometime for me to find the words to express to my new love in a most perfect and classy form the admiration I held for him so deeply in my chest. Ah, it was painstaking the hours I had spent writing the epitome of an “I want to be your girlfriend” letter. As a New Years’ resolution, I had completed my lyrical art, folded it into a nice, neat, and immaculately trendy square and tucked it into my packsack’s front pocket. I had toyed with the idea of putting a lock onto it, but deciding against the idea since it would intend that there were something to hide therein. Ever-so clever I was…

…Until I got to school and noticed the letter glued onto Neil’s locker for all to see. Little dipshit Mike decided to leaf through my bag while I stepped into the bathroom quickly to re-apply my lipstick before the bus arrived in the front of his yard. He hid the letter in his pocket, sat in the first seat of the bus, and ran into the school as the students were lazily disembarking. That is when he glued the letter onto the locker… sealing my fate as a loser, for I had said some rather… intimate things in the letter. Thankfully, it didn’t scar my reputation so much that I would be a loner… simply a lost cause when it came to a romantic relationship since Mike would always be there to foil it. Always.

I suppose it was in our junior year, Mike and I had grown apart. He had gotten thinner, had discovered deodorant, and styled his hair, and found out there were girls on this planet who weren’t me. Slightly strange, how simplistic that boy’s mind was. My irritating boyfriend of four years was still playing football, and was becoming rather popular in school as I fell to the wayside with the rest of the girls in advanced classes. Before I knew it, I didn’t have to look over my shoulder to see him glaring at me with possessive eyes which made me want to poke them out with rusty spoons.

Finally, I was my own woman. Did I take a huge breath of fresh air or did I wallow in a semi-depressive state? A little of both really. Here was this boy, so devoted to me, and he dares toss me aside for a little popularity?! I thought I was worth more than that… apparently not. And it hurts to think that, for all those years, I was more a habit than desire. Fortunately, I found him to be an itch I couldn’t scratch… and his “dumping” of me was the very thing I wanted most. It all worked out, with the exception of the mental twitch that goes off whenever a pretty face or brilliant mind crosses my path. Mike will be there, just waiting to pounce on anything stupid I could say.

As that fear is there, it manifests itself in absolutely cruel ways when I do talk to objects of my affections. I’ll stutter, stammer, be at a loss for words, or simply not know what to say. Like a curse I tell you. Given any other social situation, I can dazzle men and women with my witty demeanor or classy comments. And so, we fall back to Corey. Mr. Perfect in my office who grabs my mind and body whenever he walks past. Mr. Makes me giggle at the very thought of the joke email he sent the entire office. Mr.Intelligent gentleman who holds the door open for Lize, the elderly secretary. My heart feels so full just thinking about him, like I’m floating on air, through the clouds, over tree tops… and there he would be, with me… until I remember that little golden band around his ring finger and I fall… fall… fall…

You know what it is? I’m forcing myself to fall in love with him. That’s what it is.