I got the Love Jones

I remember a morning back in '99 where I got up early for school so that I could catch "Love Jones" on DSTv. I loved that movie THAT much. It helped that the soundtrack kicked ass and that the young Larenz Tate was super hot. Forward to 2012 where I got the movie as a birthday gift and I couldn't help but see how it had shaped me into the person I've since become: A writer; a believer; a Hopeless romantic.

In that same year (1999), I "fell in love" with my friend's best friend. I knew that said friend was into me...but I was more into his best friend cos we had a "Love Jones" moment: that I-got-it-bad-at-first-sight type of moment. As an English assignment at school, we had to come up with our rendition of  Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "How Do I Love Thee (Let Me Count The Ways)". I can't remember what drivel I manipulated out of my pen, but it was enough to fuel the love for poetry and the power of words in relation to the emotions they evoked. My subject for that poem was said best friend to future boyfriend. Let's call Best friend "Blue" (Blue 6's "Sweet Love" was our song...LOL). So anyway, I went on to write quite a lot of love-inspired rhymes for Blue; he heard/read none of them.

A year later, I met a hot little something during the first of five years together with Blue's best friend - go figure. No, his name's not "go figure". Hot Little Something went to the school down the road from my house so I saw him almost everyday after school. He (let's call him Love Jones for now) reminded me so much of Larenz Tate that I just HAD to watch the movie again with my girls to make sure that I wasn't making this up in my infatuated head. So I eventually got Love Jone's numbers and we furiously texted each other daily (remember those cute SMS's that managed to fit images like Teddy Bears shaped outta punctuation marks into 160 characters? Yeah, we sent those to each other thanks largely to the ExactMobile booklets that we bought the SMS's from). I became that girl who puppied after the Soccer Captain of a random school, same girl who'd ditch her friends and run home so that I could catch a few minutes with Love Jones before he got on a bus to town, and then a taxi home. This crush went on to kill me right up until two years into tertiary where outta the blue, I got a call from him and I almost went into full pathetically-in-love-again mode. I even remember what I was wearing on the day that he called *as I roll my eyes*: An olive green Indian skirt, with an olive/brown top and sandals. My dreadlocks were tied up at the beginning of that call and were a royal mess by the time I hung up. We decided to hook up some days later and I dunno where I got the sudden proverbial kahuna's from but I braved being with him...at his house...just the two of us! A cricket Test match was on when I got to his house so we watched that for a bit. I don't quite remember the events that followed but I do remember how nervous I was. For a reason I can't muster now, I decided to wear a VERY long skirt with a top that exposed my tummy...so while we were on that couch together and I had one of the cushions covering my flat tummy, I just felt his hand move over mine and the next thing I knew I was having a Darien and Nina moment - four years after I first laid my eyes on this fine speci-man. It was an intense kiss - I probably fainted at some point cos the only thing I remember about that afternoon, was that kiss. The only thing that had stayed solidified in all the time that had passed between me and To U M In-love was our mutual hormonal love for each other. I had to jolt out of that house before his mom got home, so we decided to continue this uhm...."thing" some other time. It didn't happen. I don't remember why but that was the last time I saw him. And because I had also changed my numbers and didn't remember his, communication came to an abrupt end.

I haven't thought about this guy since '06 or something, til a week ago when I watched this movie again and the scene with Darius (topless) making breakfast for Nina just made me swing right back to the years 2000-2004. I swear Tumi looks *clears throat*... or looked *cringes* just like Larenz Tate in that breakfast scene...that smile...mmmmmmmmm! I'm almost itching to track him down. Knowing the way my world operates, I'll probably find that he's been under my nose all this time. It would be quite a blog-post if I discovered that he's still Yummy Tumi; kid-less out of choice and not attached to some wonderful woman. However, if I find that he's a father and/or husband, shem I'll just secretly wish him well and not bother him at all. I'm so Hopeless *cues Dionne Farris to sing me a lulla-Bye to Yesterday*.

"I miss you" - - - *crickets*

Everyone has that one person that they like but feel incredulously uncomfortable around. Right? Just me, then? Ok. I'll be the poster child for all other fumblers that are hiding behind waterfalls and under tree trunks, then. I don't mind. Well, I do...but. Ok. So anyway, I dunno why I always struggle to come up with a confident and truthful "I miss you too" when presented with the opportunity. Did I say "Opportunity"? *sigh*...

Alcohol helps. Alcohol helps a lot; and all the times that I've been around him, I've needed alcohol to give my vocab a boost so that I could at least string a conversation together and be on cue for the jabs of humour that he throws around. I otherwise fumble and trip over my tongue without the -OH (this is how Chemists represent alcohol: -OH...I miss studying Science...oh Gosh...I digress...). So, to avoid what could be an incredibly embarrassing situation (even though I've decided that I don't get embarrassed), I need some alcohol in my system...lest I elevate to drooling cos my words find it hard to roll outta my mouth.

So it's either I really like this guy (and my friends don't like him at all - LOL); or I'm hoping he'll be a passing fad, eventually. I do nothing to keep him interested; in fact, we hardly talk. But when he's around...and we have those moments that make me picture us lying on a grassy hill, head-to-head facing the opposite direction...I lose all clarity and most of my control. It's in those moments that he'll look me in the eyes (if we're together) or change his tone (if we're on the phone) and say: "I really miss you" and I'll respond with "eerrrr...uhm...yeah, we haven't hung out in a while, ne? My fault!" Works so much different when we text though. I guess it's true that texting makes things so much easier cos you have time to think of a response, unlike with verbal conversations where you have nanoseconds top come up with something that'll keep the conversation flowing non-interview-esque. I go from being an older, sexier PowerPuff Girl, clad in tight leather on a mountain-top in the Captain Morgan pose...to a whimpering Ugly Betty, within seconds.

I wish I had enough time on my hands to conjure up a Nobel Peace winning psycho-analysis of why this guy makes me nervous, alas! Being generally shy also makes such a possible analysis all the more futile cos I combat this shyness with lots of words (most of them unnecessary; so as to have command over the conversation) or with silence cos the neurons in my head get all limp.

It would be interesting to see what events would unravel if I were to gather up some proverbial balls and string a sober sentence together. I might even be able to remember our conversations this time. Yeah, let's see what happens the next time I'm around him. Or maybe I should just start by getting comfortable with a truthful: "I Miss You Too."

How are you?

I'm one for conversations. I love chatting...I love talking. I don't like small-talk cos it's awkward. I don't like one-sided conversations either. What I hate the most though, is the "how are you?" that's asked without the slightest interest to know how I am.

More often than not, I find myself having one-sided conversations...cos I'm the curious one, right? I'm the one who'll quiz you and want to know just HOW you are...and you'll give me *gag* one-word answers (aka: conversation murderers) or even worse, brush my reponse to your "how are you" with a swift meandering shot into the whole purpose of you hitting me up in the first place, which is usually preceded by "anyway...".

I guess I can't shy away from the fact that people find me "intriguing". Who is this girl? What's her story? Why does (insert artists' name) speak to/of her? I've read on more occassions than I care to remember that I can't be real...all cos I have conversations with random people who text me on these social networks. So because I'm so "unreal", their "how are you?" usually translates to: "I'm not really interested in how you are or why you have a knee-cap on, I really just want to know how you can get me to link with (insert artists' name)"; or "I'm not really interested in how you are or why you feel so down today, but do you wanna go out on a date with me? I think I'm in love with you". I dunno what definition of social networking others either than myself use, but the whole point is to communicate with people you may find to have common interests with, right?

So when I get non-meaty responses to MY "How are you?", I immediately tune out. It's like when the 5-second rule elapses and you're left with an edible you now have to toss out cos any risks you might think of attempting with it, may just kill you (or kill your soul, in the case of conversations).

Is it not better to just say "Hi Tlale...listen...I just wanted to know if you can give me some light on a) b) and c)..."? I think it is. I prefer THAT to "Hi Tlale, How are? I just wanted to know...".

This can't be too much to ask, surely?