Everything Reminds Me of Her/ Glasgow (No Place Like Home)
Everything Reminds Me of Her
I am trying to make this our song.
Perhaps not our song, so much as a song that reminds him of me. It is a very obvious joke. We are, in retrospect, a very obvious couple.
I have a few songs for a few people:
I have dedicated C'mere by Interpol more than once to Issa. It accurately described in part the devastation I felt when she married Bren and could no longer be mine alone.
Ryan and I have agreed that Too Much by Carly Rae Jepsen is the theme to all our visits together and this is something we relish.
Let's Dance to Joy Division by The Wombats is a song for my favorite people from my favorite time that I wasn't clever enough to appreciate in the moment, much as I am not clever enough to appreciate the now...I don't know that this is something I will evolve from.
Perhaps I have in a way. I do appreciate this and most other moments with my new-old boyfriend. And it's an unexpectedly unique feeling.
Shortly after we started talking again I read an article about Mary Steenburgen writing this fantastic song that might be the best original movie song of 2019. I listened to the song out of curiosity completely expecting that I would take an interest in the exceptional story but find the song itself pretty meh. However, it quickly became clear that this was our song- at least in my head cannon. I don't know if people really have songs anymore. These are quaint things and romanticisms that I feel are probably far less common than pop-culture would have them seem. It probably also depends on the degree to which music is an important part of your life...and I guess it's been an important part of mine due to the degree to which it was important to my sister. Now it's just part of a well curated personality. As are the obsessions with obsession, romance and death.
Now, to understand why this would be our song in my head (or at least one I would dedicate to him) you would need to know the obnoxious, somewhat unbelievable, circumstances of this relationship...
So, here is Glasgow:
In the second year of school at UT, Issa gave up her flat in order to move in with Maeve and two other friends. I was going to be one of them, but I sort of freaked out very last second about the prospect of pissing off flatmates and the general disorder I bring into most situations.
All the time prior to this moment in which I am typing is hazy, so I don't ever know that I have the order of any occurrence placed correctly...but we had parties at this apartment and I was as ever a divisive character. I have never had any chill, but I was probably far too brash and generally bitchy coming off of a high school career of catty friendships and in-fighting. This is very me-centric, as all things tend to be, but I promise it's leading somewhere.
Anyway- all the parties were here because it had the most space and the most built-in friends. Maeve was dating this guy who had a roommate. As one does. And one night Maeve's boyfriend rolls in with his roommates and one was this tall, incredibly skinny blonde weirdo with long untidy hair. I had decided early on in the evening I was not talking at all because I had had a fight with my ex-boyfriend about people being incapable of going without talking. As I am always up to making myself uncomfortable to prove a point that I misunderstood, I spent the evening using a pad and paper to communicate. This did not deter me from, as an obvious weirdo, zeroing in on this new obvious weirdo with great facial structure and wildly long hair. I don't think I had ever met a guy with such long hair. I don't think I have since, actually. A lot could be excused at the time for long hair, and the mom-jeans he had to have been wearing, that I do not remember but understand to be factually the only possibility, were ignored in favor of everything going on above the neck.
My boyfriend is very cute.
This is something I have done small surveys on recently, and it was unanimously established that he is more attractive than Scott.
This is, of course, incredibly important.
He has a very expressive face, and blessedly doesn't take himself too seriously (a far cry from my own behavior), so it is much easier for me to remember him as being goofy and kind, but he's just objectively cute. Terribly pretty. Totes gorge~
Trying to piece together things now, I have come across pictures of us when we were younger and prettier fresh-faced things with no idea of the horrors to come, and I completely understand the appeal. The constant, disturbingly unwavering, appeal. He had a slim, almost-androgynous face (if not for the length and jawline), a solid, very sweet smile and pretty, intense, bright eyes. They're a color that's mesmerizingly difficult to pin down. They're not quite blue, which is fantastic because I have always disliked blue eyes. They're just bright. There's a lightness and joy to them. They make you feel seen.
And, I've also always been into dudes with big noses. Maybe because I think I have one, so they can't judge?
So... I can see why I could be so instantly drawn to him now, but he was not my type at the time.
With the exception that he was very pale- and I always liked the sickly, frail, sheltered heir look... I was very into The Secret Garden growing up...
At the time I was dating dudes with drug habits that wanted to be an artist of some kind: street, musician, whatever... He wasn't drinking. He didn't drink. And he was a little scientist with no need for art at all. As a drunk, eccentric, emotionally unstable artist I was not a good match for him either, but this was a very "7 rings" moment: I saw it, I liked it, I wanted it, so...
I asked him to be my boyfriend?
And, being a completely reasonable, sober, human being he politely refused.
This is not something I immediately remembered, as it seems I may have purposely forgotten a lot of the ridiculous history we have. Primarily the points that are most embarrassing for me. So, all I remembered was being instantly attracted to him and carrying that on for years- waiting and fuming. Occasionally goading.
I feel it is important to remind you at this point, that the conversation leading up to asking him out, and perhaps including asking him out, was all being done on my end with a pad of paper. I eventually became either too drunk or too bored to continue this unnecessary hindrance to communication- so I guess at some point we started talking.
I imagine I spent a lot of time on him. Probably most of the time. When he said "no" to me I was totally bummed.
This was probably the first instance of what would be a recurring theme where when he said no to me I would become upset, take it personally, then try to see if he could be talked into hooking up with someone else- all with the intent of being outraged when he did. This first time he did not. He said no, and I asked him if he would date our other friend who loudly expressed interest in him while we of lowered inhibitions screamed our romantic desires outside. He declined that as well. I can't imagine his face. I can't imagine the extreme discomfort that had to be running through his sad little robot brain at the time. I mean, I am fairly certain this is what happened. Knowing him as long as I have and being absolutely obsessed with him as long as I have I would not accept any other stories as truth. My boyfriend is not internally the cool and calm type- which I feel is something that adds to his widely acknowledged charm.
He's almost obnoxiously affable. Everyone loves him. Everyone. I hate it.
But back to the first night we met: As I mentioned, the only part I remember was the incomprehensible magnetism. At this point I had only locked in on one other person, and I don't think I ever asked him out. I haven't been lured since, either. Ugh, I love him so much, this is going to be the worst post, I'm so sorry.
Series, probably, actually, because there's a lot of history...
The least humiliating part of the night was falling under this spell, as I can never rule witchcraft out, nor that this is some kind of curse... I was reminded I asked him out, which did come back to me, and then informed that after the party had died I woke him up in the middle of the night to grill him about why he didn't like the thought of dating anyone. I don't remember this at all, so I don't know where that conversation went. I am incredibly surprised that this and subsequent behavior never led to a restraining order.
And that is how, almost 12 years ago, Hope and Collin met.
We'll work around to how we reached the point that we've now been dating for two months~
This section of our orbit ends without much fanfare. I ended up upsetting everyone else. I still liked him, but we didn't hang out a lot, and I think I might have gotten back together with Gilbert for a sec. When the group and I broke up I never saw him around.
In the next chapter we'll get around to the intentional breaks, the constant nagging, and all the small ways he made me feel so special I hated him.
It's actually that period that makes Glasgow feel so appropriate. ❤
I am trying to make this our song.
Perhaps not our song, so much as a song that reminds him of me. It is a very obvious joke. We are, in retrospect, a very obvious couple.
I have a few songs for a few people:
I have dedicated C'mere by Interpol more than once to Issa. It accurately described in part the devastation I felt when she married Bren and could no longer be mine alone.
Ryan and I have agreed that Too Much by Carly Rae Jepsen is the theme to all our visits together and this is something we relish.
Let's Dance to Joy Division by The Wombats is a song for my favorite people from my favorite time that I wasn't clever enough to appreciate in the moment, much as I am not clever enough to appreciate the now...I don't know that this is something I will evolve from.
Perhaps I have in a way. I do appreciate this and most other moments with my new-old boyfriend. And it's an unexpectedly unique feeling.
Shortly after we started talking again I read an article about Mary Steenburgen writing this fantastic song that might be the best original movie song of 2019. I listened to the song out of curiosity completely expecting that I would take an interest in the exceptional story but find the song itself pretty meh. However, it quickly became clear that this was our song- at least in my head cannon. I don't know if people really have songs anymore. These are quaint things and romanticisms that I feel are probably far less common than pop-culture would have them seem. It probably also depends on the degree to which music is an important part of your life...and I guess it's been an important part of mine due to the degree to which it was important to my sister. Now it's just part of a well curated personality. As are the obsessions with obsession, romance and death.
Now, to understand why this would be our song in my head (or at least one I would dedicate to him) you would need to know the obnoxious, somewhat unbelievable, circumstances of this relationship...
So, here is Glasgow:
In the second year of school at UT, Issa gave up her flat in order to move in with Maeve and two other friends. I was going to be one of them, but I sort of freaked out very last second about the prospect of pissing off flatmates and the general disorder I bring into most situations.
All the time prior to this moment in which I am typing is hazy, so I don't ever know that I have the order of any occurrence placed correctly...but we had parties at this apartment and I was as ever a divisive character. I have never had any chill, but I was probably far too brash and generally bitchy coming off of a high school career of catty friendships and in-fighting. This is very me-centric, as all things tend to be, but I promise it's leading somewhere.
Anyway- all the parties were here because it had the most space and the most built-in friends. Maeve was dating this guy who had a roommate. As one does. And one night Maeve's boyfriend rolls in with his roommates and one was this tall, incredibly skinny blonde weirdo with long untidy hair. I had decided early on in the evening I was not talking at all because I had had a fight with my ex-boyfriend about people being incapable of going without talking. As I am always up to making myself uncomfortable to prove a point that I misunderstood, I spent the evening using a pad and paper to communicate. This did not deter me from, as an obvious weirdo, zeroing in on this new obvious weirdo with great facial structure and wildly long hair. I don't think I had ever met a guy with such long hair. I don't think I have since, actually. A lot could be excused at the time for long hair, and the mom-jeans he had to have been wearing, that I do not remember but understand to be factually the only possibility, were ignored in favor of everything going on above the neck.
My boyfriend is very cute.
This is something I have done small surveys on recently, and it was unanimously established that he is more attractive than Scott.
This is, of course, incredibly important.
He has a very expressive face, and blessedly doesn't take himself too seriously (a far cry from my own behavior), so it is much easier for me to remember him as being goofy and kind, but he's just objectively cute. Terribly pretty. Totes gorge~
Trying to piece together things now, I have come across pictures of us when we were younger and prettier fresh-faced things with no idea of the horrors to come, and I completely understand the appeal. The constant, disturbingly unwavering, appeal. He had a slim, almost-androgynous face (if not for the length and jawline), a solid, very sweet smile and pretty, intense, bright eyes. They're a color that's mesmerizingly difficult to pin down. They're not quite blue, which is fantastic because I have always disliked blue eyes. They're just bright. There's a lightness and joy to them. They make you feel seen.
And, I've also always been into dudes with big noses. Maybe because I think I have one, so they can't judge?
So... I can see why I could be so instantly drawn to him now, but he was not my type at the time.
With the exception that he was very pale- and I always liked the sickly, frail, sheltered heir look... I was very into The Secret Garden growing up...
At the time I was dating dudes with drug habits that wanted to be an artist of some kind: street, musician, whatever... He wasn't drinking. He didn't drink. And he was a little scientist with no need for art at all. As a drunk, eccentric, emotionally unstable artist I was not a good match for him either, but this was a very "7 rings" moment: I saw it, I liked it, I wanted it, so...
I asked him to be my boyfriend?
And, being a completely reasonable, sober, human being he politely refused.
This is not something I immediately remembered, as it seems I may have purposely forgotten a lot of the ridiculous history we have. Primarily the points that are most embarrassing for me. So, all I remembered was being instantly attracted to him and carrying that on for years- waiting and fuming. Occasionally goading.
I feel it is important to remind you at this point, that the conversation leading up to asking him out, and perhaps including asking him out, was all being done on my end with a pad of paper. I eventually became either too drunk or too bored to continue this unnecessary hindrance to communication- so I guess at some point we started talking.
I imagine I spent a lot of time on him. Probably most of the time. When he said "no" to me I was totally bummed.
This was probably the first instance of what would be a recurring theme where when he said no to me I would become upset, take it personally, then try to see if he could be talked into hooking up with someone else- all with the intent of being outraged when he did. This first time he did not. He said no, and I asked him if he would date our other friend who loudly expressed interest in him while we of lowered inhibitions screamed our romantic desires outside. He declined that as well. I can't imagine his face. I can't imagine the extreme discomfort that had to be running through his sad little robot brain at the time. I mean, I am fairly certain this is what happened. Knowing him as long as I have and being absolutely obsessed with him as long as I have I would not accept any other stories as truth. My boyfriend is not internally the cool and calm type- which I feel is something that adds to his widely acknowledged charm.
He's almost obnoxiously affable. Everyone loves him. Everyone. I hate it.
But back to the first night we met: As I mentioned, the only part I remember was the incomprehensible magnetism. At this point I had only locked in on one other person, and I don't think I ever asked him out. I haven't been lured since, either. Ugh, I love him so much, this is going to be the worst post, I'm so sorry.
Series, probably, actually, because there's a lot of history...
The least humiliating part of the night was falling under this spell, as I can never rule witchcraft out, nor that this is some kind of curse... I was reminded I asked him out, which did come back to me, and then informed that after the party had died I woke him up in the middle of the night to grill him about why he didn't like the thought of dating anyone. I don't remember this at all, so I don't know where that conversation went. I am incredibly surprised that this and subsequent behavior never led to a restraining order.
And that is how, almost 12 years ago, Hope and Collin met.
We'll work around to how we reached the point that we've now been dating for two months~
This section of our orbit ends without much fanfare. I ended up upsetting everyone else. I still liked him, but we didn't hang out a lot, and I think I might have gotten back together with Gilbert for a sec. When the group and I broke up I never saw him around.
In the next chapter we'll get around to the intentional breaks, the constant nagging, and all the small ways he made me feel so special I hated him.
It's actually that period that makes Glasgow feel so appropriate. ❤
Comments
Post a Comment