A Revelation In The Oval, Spring

April 17, 2010

There are moments in any person’s life where they have an out of body experience. You may have felt one of these moments before, ; it is where something so amazing happens you become caught in the moment and can’t move. It’s a genuine moment: a moment that is a combination of exhilaration, ecstasy, and fantasy, yet is happening in real time. It’s a moment where in a world based on imperfection, pure perfection.

I remember lying on the oval on a warm spring night with a girl that I was into, yet knew the extent of our relationship. I met her during a holiday party my second year at OSU, where she and I locked lips, exchanged numbers and began a long winding road through friendship, physical rendezvous, and new-technological ways of flirting. It all came to a head this night, on that field. We kissed, laughed and made jokes as we always did at this particular time of the evening whenever we met. This evening was different, however; things happened that shouldn’t have (or should’ve depending on your view of our relationship). Without saying anything directly she let me know how she truly felt about me. Her hugs had more emotion, her kisses more passionate, there was even a moment that in the months that I had known her I had never seen before. A moment in which she trusted me to do more than just touch her with lustful intentions, but opened herself up to me in a loving manner by lying her head on my chest to hear my heartbeat and held me tighter than she ever had before. It was comforting and scary in the same instance.

I never thought in a million years that this girl, a farm girl from a small town who was the opposite from my big city personality and way of living would ever be overcome with confusion, and frustration on how to deal with her feelings for me. It was flattering and maddening all at once. Here I am, a promiscuous young adult looking for constant one-night love, but wanting something stronger. I was ready and willing to please her needs, but afraid of what would happen next. So like any other Casanova, I kissed her repeatedly, hugged her, caressed her, rolled around the field making sexual advances on her; yet unlike Casanova I felt something, something I had not felt in a long, long time— a connection. It was as if after all those months of texts, flirting, showering of compliments, I was finally getting what I craved from her—yet I didn’t trust it one bit. Why? I was a dog asking for heartbreak. I hurt so many women before her that I had a feeling it wasn’t meant to last. I know how karma works, and I always had a feeling that karma was waiting in the wings to rear its ugly head and crush something with a girl I truly loved and wanted to be with rather than use for lust and temporary pleasure.

The rain began falling slowly, the street sweepers began their nightly routine and she and I grew tired. As we clasped hands to walk to her place we broke stride a few times to kiss, and laugh and hug. Then something happened something that was happening a lot in our 90 minute sensual excursion, but something I only noticed at that particular time. I was wearing a tie, a red and black striped piece of fabric I had purchased at Macy’s a week earlier. I was going through a change in style that had me out in public in a button-up shirt and tie, with a nice pair of jeans (casual, dressy, and all-around fresh). She had played with my tie all evening as a means of pulling me closer to her for a kiss. This time her pull was interrupted when she noticed that my tie was undone. I came in for a kiss anyway because at this point her lips had become the perfect addiction, a drug similar to ecstasy but healthier, and ten times more potent. She looked at my shirt and said, “I don’t know how to tie a tie.” I explained to her how easy it was and began a brief demonstration. She watched intently as I tied a simple knot I learned from my cousin in law, who taught me because, as he put it, “all men should know how to tie a tie. “ As I showed her step-by-step a thought came over me… it was 3:45 in the morning and here we are in the drizzling rain tying ties, but she didn’t care. She was in no hurry to walk away or go upstairs or go to bed, even though she had to go camping the next day and she was nowhere near ready. It was as if this was where she wanted to be, right here with me doing something with me no matter what, kissing, talking, or tying a tie.

When I finished I walked her through her first attempt, telling her how to make the proper knot. She tried a second time but without me saying a word, as she insisted. I watched her face, as she was displeased with the size of the finished knot. I learned from her facial expressions that she was a perfectionist. For her it was not about just doing something and finishing, but finishing to her liking, no matter if she knew how to do the task at hand or not. So as the rain began falling a tad harder, she undid the knot and tied it again. She was undeterred by the slipperiness the rain caused on the fabric, nor was she bothered by the fact that she was getting soaked; she tied until she was satisfied. When she finished, she fixed my shirt, smoothed out the wrinkles and took a step back—her face said better, but not great. Then she wrapped her arms around me, and placed her head in my chest for a solid two minutes. We didn’t say a word. I kissed her head twice, the rain fell slightly harder, but we didn’t move. At that point I knew that her feelings were genuine. I knew that she felt a certain way about me, and meant it. I was no longer a play toy, or late night hook-up, I was something more. The concrete answer I didn’t know, but I knew something went deeper than just a normal college relationship between two fun-loving individuals.

I said to her, “I gotta get you home, it’s getting late.”

So we held hands again, walked to her door, and said our customary ten-minute good night (we never can just say good-bye, it’s always bye, a two-minute kiss, plans for the next time we meet, another two-minute kiss, laugh, joke, kiss again). I didn’t want to leave, but I had to. She had to pull away or I would’ve never stopped kissing her. We said good-bye and I left. From the time I walked home, passed out, woke up, and went about my daily routine, I could not stop thinking about her. I couldn’t stop thinking about that moment. I couldn’t stop visualizing her eyes watching me tie my tie, or watching her tie it for me. I couldn’t stop thinking about that hug, or the rain, or anything. The moment was surreal, sublime, beautiful and sincere; it made me fall hard for her.

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