Tag Archives: boys

Crushes, Conversations

I look at my crush and the girl he’s currently dating (no bitter feelings) and wonder what they talk about. I often see them, observe them, and every time, I see them chattering to each other.

On the other hand, when I have conversations with my crush, they’re free-flowing and easy for the first three minutes then my brain starts to tense and jumble up, as if the little personnel operating it are cramming to find related statements or questions to keep the talk going. After a few moments of trying (more like struggling), I simply let out a – hehe – a chuckle followed by the most dreaded moment of silence. The dead air.

Sometimes, I hardly, awkwardly succeed in keeping the conversation going for another minute or two by asking silly questions. I know they’re silly because they only yield 3 to 5-word responses, then I’m knocked out.

So, I wonder. What do they talk about? How can can they keep the conversation going? How can she keep the conversation going?

Should I really wonder and worry about this?

Sometimes, when we like a person, we work hard to have conversations, get to know them and share common interests. It’s our chance of getting to know each other. It’s our chance of building that connection and making it special.

But what if we fail? Does it mean we did not try hard or we’re not good enough?


Maybe not.

I know the feelings of pressure and insecurity brought about by that dead air. It’s a bit embarrassing. But maybe, after you’ve tried a good number of times, he’s just not the best person to try out for.

I remember this old crush I had who is a very good friend now. We got along well at the very start. He was not a talker, in the sense that he was not used to talking about himself, but we kept long conversations going because he listened and responded to all the things I shared and he willingly shared, too, when I asked about him. It was great.

I guess it’s a matter of matching wavelengths and being mutually interested about each other. Communication is a two-way street. If one is not interested, then the conversation will simply not last long.

Sometimes, there’s also that person with whom dead air is not so scary. Just being close to him is enough and neither of you is required to talk. You’ll know–feel–when you’re with this kind of person.

I am still curious about what they talk about, and still feel tense when I talk to my crush. But I know that if the conversation is not going between us, there’s nothing wrong with me.

Conversations will last and dead air will not be so dreadful with the right person.


I’ve Stopped.

I’ve stopped anticipating movie marathons together or you going home to me.

I’ve stopped dreaming of spending more time with you.

I’ve stopped including you on my travel bucket list.

I’ve stopped craving for our next pig-out.

I’ve stopped waiting for that huge teddy bear you promised, or that ice cream.

It’s been a while since the last time we did everything.

Carpe Diem: Strangers

Don’t talk to strangers. You’ve heard this perhaps a million times. Parents especially say this to kids because strangers can be bad guys. But have you ever defied this rule?

Just like other days, I came to Starbucks and took a “territory.” This is my regular habit. On the second floor, I conquered two couches and a table. There were only few people at the store that time, so I expected nobody would invade my space. I took my usual order of cake and Frappuccino and set my laptop on the table. I placed all my other things, notebook and pens, on the couch beside me. I removed my sandals and sat comfortably. I checked other tables and other people around me. I’d known I got a glance of somebody at another table far from my right. The person was alone, just alone with his cup of frappe. He wasn’t somebody notable until later–

“Ignore strangers” is also my motto in this kind of situation. I am quite sensitive when it comes to my personal space. I am not fond of being interrupted by random people. I am friendly, but I don’t easily entertain strangers.

Then again, this time seemed to be interesting…

I was a little startled to find before me the stranger I spotted earlier. A little startled and a little more displeased. He asked if he could occupy the couch in front of me. I didn’t smile and before I could even respond, he had already taken the seat. At that point, I was already irritated by the seeming arrogance of this person. Now, he was sitting in my territory while there were many other vacant tables.

For quite a while, he was just there, seating comfortably, watching me while I wrote on my journal. Finally, he asked my name and I answered briefly. At first, I was still feeling upset, but he softened me a bit—partly because he was cute. He’s tall, slender and fair. His eyes were big and round and sleepy, the kind that’s captivating. His small lips never got tired from smiling. He started talking a lot. He was a young man with a deep, full voice. He was so pleasant and easygoing. When there’s dead air, he’d fill it. So, there was never an air of silence between us.

We talked and talked. And kept on talking. We talked like we could never care about the time and about everything else around us. It was around 8 o’clock in the evening when we sat inside Starbucks. It was now past 10, but we hadn’t gotten enough of our conversation. We finally went out of Starbucks and decided to take some walk at the nearby park.

The frustration I was feeling earlier from his intrusion was now gone. It’s amazing how I could talk freely with someone I barely knew. It’s amazing to talk to someone who gave his full attention. It’s amazing to talk to a stranger and feel like you’d known each other for a very long time.

We sat on the grass by the pond with the dark sky and stars above us. It was a great feeling being with this stranger. He could tell me anything about him—his habits, his values, his frustrations. And I could tell him as much about myself. We never checked the time. We never worried about being home late. I was aware of the fact that he was a total stranger that I happened to meet and talk to. And that we might not meet again. Despite knowing that we might just remain strangers to each other after this, I just indulged myself in his company.

For a stranger, he had been a really great confidant and a wonderful motivator. He had realized I have low self-esteem, and he had made good effort to convince me how beautiful I am. In such a short time, I had hugely appreciated him. It’s like the first time I had a conversation with somebody that actually made a lot of sense. Despite his young age of 17 (I was 18 then), he talked even more sensibly than those older than him that I had talked to.

We amazingly concluded the night at 2 AM.

That night, I realized talking to a stranger may not always be a bad thing. After all, all our friends start out as being strangers to us, too. All the more, it’s not always that we meet a perfect stranger. This perfect stranger had given me a good feel of six hours that felt like it could never end. Too bad we remained strangers after that.

To my kind of boy

Today, because I can think of nothing else to write, I will write about you. It’s not like it’s a very unusual thing to do. I always write about and because of you.

But I don’t know what to write first. I don’t know what to write about you because there are so many things. I can write about how special you make me feel or how special you are to me. I can write how you can make me cry. I can write about how you’ve broken my heart and how you’ve made me feel better. I can write about my dreams with you. I can write about how I miss you.

There’s nothing extraordinary about you. I think you’re quite ordinary. You are handsome but not the thrilling type. You are lean but not really sexy. You are sweet but most of the time corny. There are many things you can do but you are not exceptionally talented. You are smart but a lot of times you can be awkwardly clumsy.

But to me, you are special.

I don’t know when or how but I know you’ve been special to me for a long time and tomorrow you probably will still be.

You are definitely not as handsome as Hollywood actors or Korean pop stars but you are beautiful in a different way. A way that I love and adore so much. Your eyes and your smile draw me. Your face is small and tender. You are slightly slender and your biceps are not very firm, but I love how you can make me feel warm and secure whenever you hold me in your arms. I guess loving you makes me sexually attracted to you. Is that awkward?

You are sweet but sometimes you don’t seem to know how to be properly sweet. There’s a bit of awkwardness in your sweet acts and sometimes, you turn out to be a little too corny. And that’s funny. And I appreciate everything you do. You do normal things and make them seem special. They become special simply because you do them with good effort and honesty. You don’t exceptionally excel in anything, but you do extremely well in loving the person you love and that is, at least for me, enough.

You are like a puppy. Your innocence makes you beautiful. It’s okay when you sometimes seem naive or clumsy. I like how you strive to learn and do what you like. You have dreams and you hold on to them. I’d like to be there to see you grow and reach for your dreams. Maybe someday, you will reach them.

And everything else in you… Everything else that I’m unable to write now—maybe some other time—makes me love you.

In five, ten years

I wonder what’s up for me in five, ten years? What’s up for us?

Are we still gonna be okay like this? Are we still gonna be this close? Am I going to be happy with you? Or with someone else?

I love you now. But do I still love you in five, ten years? Maybe, I’ll love someone else. I’ll love someone like how I love you now. Treat him special like how I treat you now. And I’ll just remember you, very seldom I’ll remember you, from the back of my memory. When I do, I’ll just remember you vaguely as someone who used to be special but not as special as the one I’m with.

But maybe you’ve been the most special.

Every new person who comes is going to be special. He will seem more special than the last. But I wouldn’t be able to tell for sure because the last one would’ve faded out of focus and into a vague memory. And I wouldn’t be able to recall how special he was to me.

If that happens—when I meet someone else—I want to be able to remind myself how special you are to me right now, right here. And how you’ve made me feel special. How you’ve made me want to be closer and closer to you and how it’s going to be worth it to spend days with you. How you’ve made me want to still see you in five, ten, twenty years.

I wonder what’s up for you in five, ten years?