I have something to say
Pretty sure?
I’m pretty sure I’m falling really hard for this guy. I’m also pretty sure that he would Han Solo me if I told him that I loved him. I do like him an awful lot, though.
New relationships always have a luster of excitement when you don’t yet know the person, but you like everything you see. Those of us who remember life before smartphones and the internet certainly recall the awkward dance around personal landmines when approaching and getting to know someone cold—sans any sort of help, short of hiring a private investigator—and regardless of how well you think you know someone, or how normal you think their untold story might be, there’s always a giant fucking surprise that lays an egg in the middle of everything and just sits, waiting for the right time to hatch. It doesn’t have to be a bad surprise, necessarily, but it can certainly be something unexpected.
Only the best PIs for this guy right here.
Modern connectivity gives us the luxury of Googling and rabbit-holing a person to our greatest content—or discontent, depending on what you find—but that’s all on us, really. Front-loading yourself with information doesn’t mean you know a person, nor does memorization (louder, for those in the back at the meet-and-greet: YOU DON’T REALLY KNOW THEM AND THEY’RE NOT YOUR FRIEND), but then again, the average dumbass under 35 doesn’t know the glory of working hard to find out someone’s middle name, their parents’ names, their birthday, their favorite color, where they were born and/or grew up, and all the other rote trivia solely through an actual oral conversation. (You also have to do this while not seeming sketchy, a nuance many never harnessed as teens thanks to our ignorance of subtlety.) That notwithstanding, Gen Xers are the last great conversationalists left on the planet. Go ahead, try and fight me. You’ll lose, because I’ll talk you to death.
The point I’m crab-walking toward (who remembers crab-walking in PE class, that shit was hilarious) is this: I wasn’t prepared to learn it, but once I did, I realized how deep my emotions run here. I’ve had the thrill of a crush so intense that minor interactions formed the crux of a sorely needed emotional rebound, but it’s been a minute since something froze me in my tracks and electrified me from head to toe all at once. On top of that, I came by this information not through his own anecdote, but one of his dad’s, in a collection of essays. The essay itself was about timing, coincidence, attachment of significance, and all that. In a way, I believe that learning what I did through that vessel, rather than in passing in one of our epic conversations, attached a more poignant significance to it.
I won’t go into detail, but he stopped to help at an accident on the highway. It was dark. A semi didn’t see them and worsened the accident, and with his not being in a car, the impact launched him into the median and knocked him out. A helicopter flew him to the closest trauma center. He was mostly fine, and for that his parents were grateful—and so am I—but his father acknowledged that had that not been the case, then that stretch of highway would’ve been forever marked in their minds because of it. And I think my heart stopped again while I’m editing this.
He’s my real-life Tom Petty, and I really, really dig him.
I’m glad you’re in my life, Dan, and it’s crazy it could’ve never even happened.
