I had this friend who I went to high school with that I thought was particularly special. She came onto the scene in the early days of my senior year, before I'd so much as chosen a college or decided what I wanted to do with myself for sure (I was bouncing around between major selections, and major life decisions). The first time I ran into her was in the hallway in Early September.
I was late to class for my second period, since I'd been assisting the tech instructor in the computer lab. As I exited the room, I saw the German teacher coming down the hall with this beautiful blonde girl on her arm; I remember that moment very vividly, even now. She was wearing this pepper gray sweater and a neat little beret that forced her bangs to frame her face in a way that she must've found flattering. I was so sidetracked that I practically slammed right into her and the teacher, but I managed to stop just in time.
"Oh-- hey, here he is! Ficklefire (for simplicity), here's ____! Ficklefire does a lot of work around here with the computers and as far as I know, he's also pretty good at English. You two might get along!"
I kind of paused, still starstruck, and mumbled a basic "hey, hello there" in passing.
I didn't know, at the time, how much that moment was going to change my year. I didn't know, at the time, how much that moment was going to impact my personality and my decision making. I didn't know, at the time, exactly what I was in for or what I was doing.
I did, know, however, that we shared a few classes. She was in one of my early morning classes and in my last class of the day, and because I'm a pretty sociable guy, we hit it off pretty quickly. For the first week I knew her, we talked about just about everything under the sun. Though, it helped that I've always been the type of guy who's attracted to tragedy in a human body. The first substantial thing she said to me was: "First off, you should know I've got a lot of baggage."
My ever-so-witty reply was: "I hear I'm a pretty good bellboy, so don't worry about it."
After knowing her for about two weeks, I decided I was going to ask this girl out. She was cute, witty, intelligent, and way out of my league. In short, she was just about everything I'd ever wanted. With that in mind, I approached her after the last class of Week 2 and asked her for her number, absolutely DETERMINED to get it.
When she told me she didn't have a phone, I was crushed. She had to be making an excuse to avoid talking to me any further, and I respected that-- but then she surprised me.
"I do have a Skype though, er, if you've got a pen we could trade?"
Oh man, my heart skipped a beat.
She took my pen and my little scrap of paper, and when she scribbled her name across that little strip, I'm not ashamed to admit that I was breathless. Her handwriting was compact, but flowery; full of flourish and flavor. When I got back to my house about twenty minutes later, I sat down on the porch for what had to have been an eternity, just staring at it in some kind of trance. I was absolutely, shamelessly, smitten.
We added each other in no time.
Before the end of that week, she had invited me over to her house to spend the night and hang out. Being 17 and vaguely romantic, I was one hundred percent ready for that. I convinced my parents to let me go out on a Friday Night to some girl they'd never met's home and spend the night, and told my roommate not to wait up.
Now, me being me, I was promptly pulled over by a policeman on my way to her house at around midnight. Nothing could have killed my excitement more than being pulled over for expired plates and held for about an hour while I was lectured for it, especially since I've always looked a few years older than I really am-- and I was heading to an underage girl's house for what seemed like it was bound to be ***. I, meekly, squeaked out that I was headed to the convenience store a few blocks away (instead of to the apartments in the Southern block of town), and that I definitely needed some really great smelling cologne to grab myself a sandwich.
Eventually, he let me go.
That first night with her was... interesting. We stayed up until four AM, randomly swapping life stories and talking about our fears and our fetishes and what our dreams were, and whether or not we'd ever get to see the stars. We were just curled up on her couch and enjoying the conversation, which was without judgement or fear-- well, except for when her grandpa walked out into the living room while we were both under the blankets. That was pretty terrifying, since I'd assumed she lived alone (for whatever reason).
When we eventually woke up the next morning, I got to meet the rest of her family while we continued to curl up on the couch and watch cartoons, sharing headphones and laughing about the ridiculous shit that we saw. By the time I had to leave, she had already sent me a message on Skype begging me to come back. She talked about how good I smelled and how she wished I hadn't left and how I should come back over whenever I could-- and that became our "thing."
I came over to her house every few days, and we'd just hang out and curl up together.
Then, in about October, tragedy.
Out of nowhere, she disappeared from school entirely. When I talked to her about it, she said that she had multiple organ failure, and that there was a very real chance that she was going to die sometime soon. I cringed, and my heart sank. For all the promises I'd made her and the pacts we'd made, it seemed, all for the world, like it was going to be cut short. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream. I wanted to break everything in sight just so I'd have something I could actually piece back together.
It keeps going, but, er, is anyone actually interested in hearing the rest of this? I'd rather not go into it if nobody's interested.
I am not saying that a relationship cannot develop into something greater than the initial stages. Some people are both quite unhappy but work together and develop a great quality of life. I see what you thought I meant and why you answered the way you did though. What I say is like a blueprint. It is not as black and white as the quote suggests. What is important to take from this though, is that if one person is not just temporarily miserable but a miserable person looking for someone to essentially entertain them, then it is doomed. There are many variants of the meaning but the lesson is sound. What you are describing in your parents, are not two people who wanted the other to make them happy, but two people who wanted better for themselves and for another and were willing to work together for a common goal. This is exactly what my saying refers to as well.
