Todavia me haces temblar.
Todavia me hace maldecir el tiempo.
I was expecting anything at the party. Anything.
I had my best poker face (sorry, had to use it. But I have a free card here, since I really AM a poker player), ready to deal with "Why aren't you part of the bridal party?" questions. They were handed at me, at various times throughout the party. I dealt with it all quite easily... even with a stupid smile across my face.
But I wasn't ready for one person... a person I bumped into at the party:
Ivan.
(So many fucking Ivan's in my life... you'd think I hail from Russian)
I can remember liking him since I was about five.
He's about... seven years older than me, so my memories of him are just... me admiring him, and him thinking I'm a quiet little girl.
He's related to Bride-to-Be from her Dad's side, I'm related to her from her Mom's side, so I'd always bump into him at family parties... and I'd always shy away or turn beet red each time I'd have to say hello.
I spent all of grade school like that. I'd mumble a "Hello," and run away as quickly as possible.
He's probably the one guy I liked the most, but was also the most painfully shy of... because I found him so freakishly good-looking.
And he'd always be... not patronizing, exactly... but he would dismiss me as "Tony's little cousin" (Bride-to-be's older brother)... or so I thought.
The moment came when I turned 15.
I was ready to come clean to him about my feelings... shit, I was ready to ask the guy out.
But like everything else in my life, the timing was just off.
I saw him at my cousin's quinceañera, and just as he was going to ask me to dance, Dad abruptly ended my party time and decided it was time for us to go home.
It was like a movie: I saw Ivan talk to Tony, look over at me, smile... and as he was making his way through the crowd towards me, my heart started to race as I desperately looked for a place to look away like the stupid, coy girl I am.
Then I saw Dad stand up and do the one-hand-in-left-pocket-in-search-for-car-keys and the snap-fingers-point-to-the-door-with-other-hand move which is his "Let's get outta here!" move.
I was heart-broken, and only frowned at Ivan.
The next time I bumped into him, they gave me the bad news that he was in a relationship.
I always hoped it would go sour... but it didn't.
One time, when I bumped into him at Dad's work, I said hello and practically ran back to my car. Ivan blushed and speed-walked into Dad's work.
Outside, Mom talked to Tony (oh yeah, he was there because he worked for Dad) and laughed over how I've always had a crush on Ivan, so I get all awkward around him. Tony's response?
Just look at the way HE gets... it's mutual.
Fuck my life.
Ivan was married in '03, and I was invited to his wedding. It was difficult to act as if I didn't care... and even more difficult to play it off in front of Tony... because he knew what was up.
I proceeded to live my life with as little interaction with Ivan as possible.
All family events where I run the risk of bumping into him are events I dread.
If he's ever there, I try VERY hard to have an excuse not to touch him.
Oh, I have an injured shoulder.
Oh, my wrist is dislocated... it hurts when I shake hands.
I'm all vomit-y today... it's not safe to squeeze me.
Your wife is right there... I can see images of my own homicide when I look into her eyes... so I'll just stand over here and wave.
For the most part, I've been successful. I even managed to avoid hugging him last year during the funeral of his grandmother (that is SO fucked up, I know, but... it had to be done. People are vulnerable during the death of a loved one... I didn't want an excuse for squeezing and more sentimental attachment).
But I'm not so detached when it comes to his baby. I can't help but caress the little girl when I see her, or smile at her... or call her "pretty girl." She's a little screaming monster... but I just... I can't ignore the baby.
It's not that I love the guy or anything... but... he's kind of like... a first love of sorts.
I see him and I can't help but feel that kick to my stomach.
You didn't wait for me... you couldn't wait for me... you never told me anything.
I could have been happy with him... could have.
Yesterday I noticed it was a mutual sentiment... the remorse, that is.
Could have.
I didn't notice he was sitting down in a couch where his mother was facing me. He was surrounded by a small, standing crowd of relatives I'm cool with... so like a well placed trap, I stumbled into it.
I walked over, and before I could act like I hadn't seen him, he stood up and smiled down at me (he's about 6'3" so looking up at him is a must for my 5'8" self).
Him: Hey AnoMALIE! How are you?
Me: ... heh...y...
Ah, fuck!
Before I knew it, he was hugging me.
I tried doing that Christian hug thing... where they side hug and move on... but no, he... held me. That's the best way I can describe it.
I felt his arms get tighter, and I tried moving out of the hug, but he held me still, against my will. And I stood there, letting him squeeze me... completely immobilized.
He inhaled near my ear.
Him: It has been a long time since I last saw you.
Me: Yeah... it's been a minute.
Him: Never a good thing.
Me: Yeah...
I had dropped my left arm by now, and patted his back with my right hand.
I felt light-headed and I wanted to cry... sobs included.
When he finally released me, I looked away from him and acted busy with his mom.
He walked away to "grab a beer" and we spent the rest of the night avoiding each other (well, I did. He'd try to catch up to me when I'd be making line for some tacos... then I'd act as if the cheese appetizers three rooms away were calling out to me. I'd also very strategically position myself so the columns of the house would be blocking me from his view).
Where was his wife? Working. How are they doing? Rocky. They've separated a few times.
I'm not saying his marriage is on the rocks because of me, hell no. That shit has had issues from day one.
I'm just saying... there's a real feeling of... loss between us.
There's this sense of melancholy.
He knows I liked him a lot. He knows his presence would fuck me up. He knows I was just waiting for him to make a move.
You will never know what could have been. You let me slip away.
I would have waited for him as long as it took. I held on to the hope up until the day of his marriage.
The moment he said "I do," was the moment the hope died.
Now all that can ever happen is that longing hug. That awkward exchange of pleasantries where I nearly lose my cool as the tears build in my eyes.
I try to play it cool, honest I do... but the sadness accumulates, along with my anger, and I lose whatever stability I had garnered over the years.
You didn't wait for me. You didn't wait for me. You didn't wait for me.
Too late. Too late. Too late.
Todavia me hace maldecir el tiempo.
I was expecting anything at the party. Anything.
I had my best poker face (sorry, had to use it. But I have a free card here, since I really AM a poker player), ready to deal with "Why aren't you part of the bridal party?" questions. They were handed at me, at various times throughout the party. I dealt with it all quite easily... even with a stupid smile across my face.
But I wasn't ready for one person... a person I bumped into at the party:
Ivan.
(So many fucking Ivan's in my life... you'd think I hail from Russian)
I can remember liking him since I was about five.
He's about... seven years older than me, so my memories of him are just... me admiring him, and him thinking I'm a quiet little girl.
He's related to Bride-to-Be from her Dad's side, I'm related to her from her Mom's side, so I'd always bump into him at family parties... and I'd always shy away or turn beet red each time I'd have to say hello.
I spent all of grade school like that. I'd mumble a "Hello," and run away as quickly as possible.
He's probably the one guy I liked the most, but was also the most painfully shy of... because I found him so freakishly good-looking.
And he'd always be... not patronizing, exactly... but he would dismiss me as "Tony's little cousin" (Bride-to-be's older brother)... or so I thought.
The moment came when I turned 15.
I was ready to come clean to him about my feelings... shit, I was ready to ask the guy out.
But like everything else in my life, the timing was just off.
I saw him at my cousin's quinceañera, and just as he was going to ask me to dance, Dad abruptly ended my party time and decided it was time for us to go home.
It was like a movie: I saw Ivan talk to Tony, look over at me, smile... and as he was making his way through the crowd towards me, my heart started to race as I desperately looked for a place to look away like the stupid, coy girl I am.
Then I saw Dad stand up and do the one-hand-in-left-pocket-in-search-for-car-keys and the snap-fingers-point-to-the-door-with-other-hand move which is his "Let's get outta here!" move.
I was heart-broken, and only frowned at Ivan.
The next time I bumped into him, they gave me the bad news that he was in a relationship.
I always hoped it would go sour... but it didn't.
One time, when I bumped into him at Dad's work, I said hello and practically ran back to my car. Ivan blushed and speed-walked into Dad's work.
Outside, Mom talked to Tony (oh yeah, he was there because he worked for Dad) and laughed over how I've always had a crush on Ivan, so I get all awkward around him. Tony's response?
Just look at the way HE gets... it's mutual.
Fuck my life.
Ivan was married in '03, and I was invited to his wedding. It was difficult to act as if I didn't care... and even more difficult to play it off in front of Tony... because he knew what was up.
I proceeded to live my life with as little interaction with Ivan as possible.
All family events where I run the risk of bumping into him are events I dread.
If he's ever there, I try VERY hard to have an excuse not to touch him.
Oh, I have an injured shoulder.
Oh, my wrist is dislocated... it hurts when I shake hands.
I'm all vomit-y today... it's not safe to squeeze me.
Your wife is right there... I can see images of my own homicide when I look into her eyes... so I'll just stand over here and wave.
For the most part, I've been successful. I even managed to avoid hugging him last year during the funeral of his grandmother (that is SO fucked up, I know, but... it had to be done. People are vulnerable during the death of a loved one... I didn't want an excuse for squeezing and more sentimental attachment).
But I'm not so detached when it comes to his baby. I can't help but caress the little girl when I see her, or smile at her... or call her "pretty girl." She's a little screaming monster... but I just... I can't ignore the baby.
It's not that I love the guy or anything... but... he's kind of like... a first love of sorts.
I see him and I can't help but feel that kick to my stomach.
You didn't wait for me... you couldn't wait for me... you never told me anything.
I could have been happy with him... could have.
Yesterday I noticed it was a mutual sentiment... the remorse, that is.
Could have.
I didn't notice he was sitting down in a couch where his mother was facing me. He was surrounded by a small, standing crowd of relatives I'm cool with... so like a well placed trap, I stumbled into it.
I walked over, and before I could act like I hadn't seen him, he stood up and smiled down at me (he's about 6'3" so looking up at him is a must for my 5'8" self).
Him: Hey AnoMALIE! How are you?
Me: ... heh...y...
Ah, fuck!
Before I knew it, he was hugging me.
I tried doing that Christian hug thing... where they side hug and move on... but no, he... held me. That's the best way I can describe it.
I felt his arms get tighter, and I tried moving out of the hug, but he held me still, against my will. And I stood there, letting him squeeze me... completely immobilized.
He inhaled near my ear.
Him: It has been a long time since I last saw you.
Me: Yeah... it's been a minute.
Him: Never a good thing.
Me: Yeah...
I had dropped my left arm by now, and patted his back with my right hand.
I felt light-headed and I wanted to cry... sobs included.
When he finally released me, I looked away from him and acted busy with his mom.
He walked away to "grab a beer" and we spent the rest of the night avoiding each other (well, I did. He'd try to catch up to me when I'd be making line for some tacos... then I'd act as if the cheese appetizers three rooms away were calling out to me. I'd also very strategically position myself so the columns of the house would be blocking me from his view).
Where was his wife? Working. How are they doing? Rocky. They've separated a few times.
I'm not saying his marriage is on the rocks because of me, hell no. That shit has had issues from day one.
I'm just saying... there's a real feeling of... loss between us.
There's this sense of melancholy.
He knows I liked him a lot. He knows his presence would fuck me up. He knows I was just waiting for him to make a move.
You will never know what could have been. You let me slip away.
I would have waited for him as long as it took. I held on to the hope up until the day of his marriage.
The moment he said "I do," was the moment the hope died.
Now all that can ever happen is that longing hug. That awkward exchange of pleasantries where I nearly lose my cool as the tears build in my eyes.
I try to play it cool, honest I do... but the sadness accumulates, along with my anger, and I lose whatever stability I had garnered over the years.
You didn't wait for me. You didn't wait for me. You didn't wait for me.
Too late. Too late. Too late.
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