I was caught. I did not think it was evident, but apparently, it was. For a single female, being 30 years old means that the eyes start to wander. They land right down at a man's ring finger. Does this mean I should start asking if a guy has children, right after, What do you do for a living?
He came into the store, introducing himself as the representative for one of the many truck companies we deal with. I am giving him the name Christopher. Christopher was brutally attractive. His tanned skin reminded me of a piece of chocolate; smooth and tempting. Have you ever seen blues that literally look like the color of Windex? It is not often that physical attributes are compared to a type of cleaning supply. Forget the direct reference and just think about the color of Windex. This man's eyes were seriously that blue and I could have stared into them for hours, never getting bored.
Christopher was tall and had definition. He was not built nor was he lanky, he was just right--not too big and not too small. Personally, I tend to fall for the guys who are tall and have meat on their bones. This man fell right smack in the middle.
What I love most about the opposite sex is their physical imperfections. For me, imperfections are actually, perfection. The last guy I dated wore a pair of worn out black and neon green checkered sneakers that had seen better days about seven or eight years ago. His hair was almost always tangled and he always smelled like laundry detergent. The smell was so potent, it lingered on every article of clothing I wore. He also had this small, crooked smile. He never fully smiled, leaving me to wonder if he genuinely appreciated what I said or not. This only added to the mystery he prevailed. Two things I like in the opposite sex: mystery and quirks.
Christopher had baggy circles under his eyes, yet they suit him perfectly. Now, if a woman had those and did not correct them, she would look tired and almost sickly. Somehow, though, on him, the baggy circles made his blue eyes stand out more.
The underlining mystery about this guy was that he was brand new. He provided a whole landscape of unknowns: Is he gay? Is he straight? Does he have a girlfriend? Is he crazy? What does he do on the weekends? Has he been incarcerated? I knew three things about this guy. One, he was the new rep for a nation-wide trucking company. Two, his voice was thick and full of charisma. And three, his collared shirt and navy blue tie made him look like he belonged on Wall Street. These three things were not enough to discreetly flirt. There were other things I needed to learn before batting my eyelashes or laughing at his pathetic attempts to be funny. I needed to know if the man was married or not.
That is when my eyes daggered down to the desk counter and moved to the right. They landed right on his ring finger.
Christopher saw it. With one movement, he turned his hand over, hiding any visible evidence. My cousin caught me doing it, but She doesn't tell me until after Christopher leaves.
I didn't see anything, but then again, I didn't have the time to see anything. Although, I could have sworn I saw a thick silver band on his ring finger. The ring could mean anything, though. It is not uncommon for men to wear rings. Women are not the only ones who sport jewelry. This could have been a fashion statement or a ring passed down from his grandfather. There were plenty of alternatives, I just needed to get another, better look before jumping to a conclusion.
As discreetly as I could make it, I peered over to the right, making it look like I was looking at the wall-length mirror that takes up the entire far right wall of the store. Maybe I saw the reflection of headlights? This often happens when a customer pulls into the parking lot. One of the many things I am bad at is acting. I was never meant for the stage, but I can sure as hell write a storyline for the stage.
Again, I was caught. Christopher looked down and took his hand away from my eyesight. His hand landed right in his pocket.
My God, am I that desperate? Just recently I have discovered this bad habit. The problem is, I am usually somewhere else where it is more crowded. There were three people standing at the front counter: me, my cousin, and the representative. I have started to think that my wandering eye has caused a problem.
My cousin got a real kick out of it. Of course she would, she's 25 and engaged to the love of her life. She has no idea what it is like to watch everyone you know get engaged or get married. Life is beginning for everybody else and here I am, standing at the front counter at work, desperately trying to find out if Christopher, the rep is married. And the saddest part about it all, he knew exactly what I was doing. So I jumped to the conclusion that he was married, and most likely, very happily.
I am not desperate to find the love. I have already come to terms that it may never happen. It is a possibility that I am willing to accept. Bad luck in romance runs deep in my family history. It is believed that my great-great Grandmother put a curse on all of the younger female generations, all because she did not approve of the man her daughter married. Way to go great-great Grandma! How is that fair to us? Reality often hits and I ask, Do I really believe in a curse? Sometimes, yes, I do and at other times, I think it is completely asinine.
It's a tough world out there and I think it is completely nonsensical to just settle down with the first person who seems comfortable. In the end, who is that fair to? Of course I would love to find that person I can come home to and be myself around 100 percent of the time. My co-worker Mark put it perfectly. "If I didn't have my wife, I don't know who I would be. Yeah we fight, but what married couples doesn't? In the end, I would much rather fight with my wife than not having anybody to come home to." Most men do not come forth with the truth like that. They would rather make jokes about how women ruin their lives. When Mark said that to me, my heart pounded with hope. It is always easier being the pessimistic, believing that there is a curse and I am bound to be alone for the rest of my life. But when I hear Mark talk about his wife, it makes me long for something similar.
I used to come home after the bar, crying that nobody wanted me. Those old insecure feelings from high school came back and haunted me. I am ugly and nobody wants to touch me. What good am I for somebody else? I lack so many things that all the other girls captivate so well. Alcohol will do that to you.
A few years back, I vowed to never put myself through that kind of misery ever again. I've broken down a few times, but there hasn't been a time where I felt so low that my self worth was at the bottom of the barrel. So, to keep myself from ever reaching that point, I've made a compromise to myself. There is somebody out there who will find me beautiful just the way I am and who will take care of me, no matter how annoying I get. I know this because I have had boyfriends and suitors who've showered me with compliments. But why make the journey long and hellish? Half the fun is in getting there. I'll meet people along the way, creating the story of my life. And if it just so happens that the curse is real and that I am forever doomed, well, so be it. At least I will have met interesting characters along the way.
Maybe this is easier said than done. But I'll be damned if I am going to be one of those desperate females who settle for the first guy who shows potential of forever.
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