She is beautiful.
The woman sitting across from me is stunning. The light reflects off her skin in a way that simply pulls your gaze to her face. Though you love to see her smile, and to see the glow of her cheeks, your eyes are easily distracted.
That's because her eyes are looking into yours, and then you're lost. They are intelligent, inquisitive and playful. Whether you're in a crowed restaurant or an empty parking lot... it doesn't matter. When you're lucky enough to look into them, your peripheral vision is pretty much nonexistent.
If you bring yourself to look away for an instant and take a step back, her lean silhouette stands out against whatever background. You find yourself way too envious of her suede jacket. Sure, it's an unfeeling, unthinking, inanimate object... but it's lucky enough to be draped over her neck and shoulders. Not a bad life.
She is gentle.
Words like malice and cruelty don't even exist in her vocabulary. She sees the world in a compassionate light and knows no other. She speaks of her passion to be productive not because she feels guiltily altruistic, but because she'll genuinely enjoy helping others. Simple as that.
Occasionally she'll get a little flustered, frustrated at one of the world's many problems. It's a beautiful thing. Her head cocks just a touch to one side, and she'll blink in the most adorable, seductive of ways. She'll look back, now confident of what she's trying to articulate, and you just have to smile.
"What?" she asks.
"Nothing. Sorry, please keep going," you say with a slight shake of your head. She continues making her point, but as much as you want to listen to her words with rapt attention... well, you just can't stop smiling.
This column is about love, or actually the pursuit thereof. A lot of people at Duke talk about not having time for a boyfriend or girlfriend, that they have too many things going on or a career to think about. Love will have to wait.
I think my fellow Duke students are idiots. There isn't anything better or greater than love, than having someone to share life with.
"All days are nights to see till I see thee," Shakespeare wrote in his 43rd sonnet. "And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me."
What I want most in life is to be able to say those words to someone and truly mean them.
Luckily for me, the woman described above really does exist. She is not a figment of my imagination or a literary creation. She is, I think, the most special woman I've met in last six months, maybe even in a full year. That's a strong statement, I know, but I think it's true.
I've been in love twice in my life, although it's been awhile (the last time was sophomore year). The cool thing about having been in love is that you remember these weird fragments, so that when someone else comes along with the potential to be truly amazing, you get little flashbacks. When you find yourself engaged in a glance, a smile or an intense conversation, you have these moments where you pause.
It's not deja vu. No two women are alike, and so your feelings for everyone you meet, particularly anyone unique and special, are not easily comparable. But, there is this kind of recognition. You feel that, and your senses perk up.
I felt that Thursday night. I felt it hard.
The night had come to an end. We sit looking at each other. Honestly, although I should be nervous, I'm not. The feeling is actually more like... bemusement. I want to see what happens next because it's sure to be interesting.
She leans over and plants this awkward kiss on my cheek. She had moved toward the windshield, so her lips just kind of glance off my face. I get presented a broadside view of her cheek in return, which I'm totally unprepared for. I've been fantasizing all night for her lips or her neck. Anything else is a letdown.
I get the point.
"So, you'd prefer to keep this platonic," I say earnestly, hoping to keep all disappointment hidden until I get out of the car.
She nods.
Always direct, I go a step further. "Can I have aspirations?" The words mean nothing, though. It's my eyes. The look is one of the most delicate you can give. You aren't pleading, and you're not really asking either. What you're doing is making a declaration: I like you... a lot. You're not some infatuation. You are someone I want to pursue with all the force and concentration I can muster.
She pauses.
"Well, I'm actually kind of dating two guys right now, as legitimately as you can."
Okay, I'll admit that was a little surprising. But I've heard stranger things, and besides, I'm focused and confident.
I don't even miss a beat. I run my fingers through her hair, slightly grazing her head. "Well, then you don't need a third... have an awesome night."
In my room, I'm choosing my music carefully--the right combination of passion and sadness, but without that moping quality. I feel surprisingly great.
Yes, I'm really sad. After all, this beautiful human being isn't going to become my girlfriend anytime soon and probably not ever. That sucks. But, I feel lucky. I had spent a magical evening with an extraordinary woman, and I had said everything I wanted to say just about exactly how I wanted to say it.
There are no regrets.
Actually, there is one more reason why I feel lucky. A question hits me as I close my eyes and lean back on my couch, absorbing Barber's Adagio for Strings as its violins fill my room.
Who would I rather be right now? One of those two guys with whom she'll be kissing and caressing this weekend or me, alone in my room?
Easy choice.
I could never share her. I could never share anyone so special.
Nick Christie is a Trinity senior and associate sports editor for The Chronicle.
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