Monday, May 3, 2010

beating around the bush.

I was 18. I stepped off of a plane in Berlin with my cousin and greeted his lovely, German girlfriend at the gate. We climbed into a car where my cousin and his Heidi embraced one-another passionately in the back seat. I took my place in the front passenger side, already feeling quite out-of-place, and looked left to behold this young man:
My cousin had informed me during our flight that his girlfriend and her older brother would be retrieving us from the airport and taking us to stay at their parent's house for two weeks. I guess it never dawned on my 18-year-old self that this brother could be, um, a German, how-you-say, hunk.

So I turned to him in the car and smiled. Then we sat in (almost) complete silence (just the sounds of kissing), side-by-side. "Does he speak English?" I thought to myself. He smiled at me and reached for the car stereo, turning the station to a pleasant techno song.

I said the obvious phrase to break the ice; "I have a playstation 2."

He turned to me, his eyebrows raising with interest. "Please don't speak English" I hoped.

His gaze urged me onward. "At home, I have a playstation 2. And I can make songs like this."

He laughed at me. A handsome laugh that made me feel both foolish and at ease. At that moment we became old friends. By the time I left two weeks later, we thought we should perhaps pursue a relationship. I had never met a foreign heartthrob training to become a doctor, and he had never met a girl who ordered hot chocolate in a brewery. He asked me to move to Berlin. I would have had it been a remote possibility.
I was never one for long-distance romances; and once I landed back on my planet we promptly lost touch. He had, however, opened my eyes to the possibility of a great love somewhere in the world for me. Before Germany I had accepted a ring from a boy who I thought could be very good for me. His resume was perfect, and he was quite fun, but I never felt such sparks as I'd felt those two weeks with Sebastian. I called off the wedding.

And I said yes to Duke, who turned out to be the absolute love of my life, when he asked me on a date. Now he loves me for the awkward conversation that spouts out of my mouth. He loves me for waving at strangers and choosing to dance instead of walk. He makes me hot chocolate when I'm down. He kisses me like fireworks.

And he listens to the lame songs I compose on my computer.

Moral of the story #1. There is a great love out there for you, if you've not found him yet. Don't settle.

#2. Some things change, but I will never stop fiddling with electronics to make ridiculous music.


#3. It's my brother's birthday. If you send me on a hunt to find a good picture in my hard-drive for a birthday card, I will start looking at all the photos I've ever taken. Then I will open a music folder and start listening to all the songs I've ever composed. And finally I will come upon a song I wrote once for my brother's birthday. And I will post it along with (un)related things that I started thinking about.


Happy Birthday, Brenny. I tried to say it simply but deep down I'm just like dad.

5 comments:

Mal Mecham said...

So I'm new to your blog, but I'm already in love! You are a simply wonderful writer who says things in a wonderfully fresh way. Thank you thank you for sharing.

Fata verde said...

:))) the birthday song is sooo funny :))
ps: I love the fact that it's in the afternoon on your side of the world, and the middle of the night in mine :) it seams amazing to think about it :)

Taylor K said...

Hello. I've just come to your blog from team boo and I am really liking it. Thanks for the reminder that there is someone out there for me! Now if he would just hurry up and get here.

Sarah said...

This was a lovely story. Thank you for sharing! You are wonderful.

The Heathen Caboose said...

I get your birthday song stuck in my head all the time. Just wanted to you know "wicked guitar solo" :)