It's a curious beauty she possesses. A timid princess beauty. A silly sultry beauty that harbors a confidence in her convictions. And to think she once told me she'd fallen for me. If had been a strange time for me though, and to be honest, timing was never really our thing. Fuckin' aye, if I could, I'd do it right over and quite different, and there's precious few things I say that for. See, I'm hardly ever one for regret, but this Taylor Marie, she's just prettier than everything. In part, because it's the kind of pretty that digs in roots and grows on you, and it's been growing on me for some time now.
That being said, there's something destructive in the way she thinks. It comes from that crazy that's in us all, and maybe that's why I'm crazy about her. We've all got it. And if you think for a second that you don't, well then you simply haven't looked deep enough. It's in everyone, and it shows itself in different particulars. In the particular case of Taylor, it's not something extravagant. No, it's quality is innocent and pure with the most romantically hopeful outlook. The only problem with it really is that life in reality isn't so storybook serene or as easily decipherable as she may believe. It's not plastered across the universe in such rigid archetypes.
She's a relationship girl. That's what she tells me. "I only have sex with my boyfriend," she says. Okay, that makes sense. I guess. When she has a boyfriend anyways. But what happens when she's single again because the last one ended badly like they always do for some reason?
"Have you slept with anyone else yet?" I'd ask.
She'd look at me hard, maybe judging. "I told you, I'll only have sex with my boyfriend. That's just who I am."
"Which boyfriends?"
"Ew, no. Not ex-boyfriends."
"But you're single."
"I know. I hate it."
"Well, hell. Date me then," I'd say smiling. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"Oh, stop it," she'd say with a roll of the eyes or a shifty sideways glance. "Please, you're like my best friend."
"Yeah, but I'm also a boy. And I already love you, so it's like a win-win."
"Maybe. But I don't want to ruin what we have right now."
I never understood that. I guess it's because all her intimate relationships end in disaster and heartbreak. I feel sorry for her, sure, but only to a certain extent.
[revisited 4/30/13]
It's a year later now just about. Fuck time's flying way too fast. I wish I could say I understand her more now than I did then, but if I did, I'd be lying to myself. But that's what writing's for right? To bring about some semblance of understanding, some coherent self-satisfying dialogue. Or is it a monologue? I don't know.
What I do know is that somewhere in this between she became a woman to me, and when I look in the mirror now, it's not a wide-eyed boy I see staring back anymore, but a reluctant man of beleaguered stoicism pulled like see-through curtains over tired pupils. So we've both grown I guess. She's single now. Adult single with a single studio place to herself and a healthy taste for liquor and aesthetic sex with no strings attached. Which means no me. And somehow, after all this time and pessimism, I still have the capacity to get completely wrapped up in her.
