Occasionally I write about things “other than tennis.” This one, a confession of sorts, is only tangentially related. If you don’t want to read it, then don’t.
I am sitting by the window, gazing out at a typically busy traffic pattern one early June afternoon, thinking of all of the many days when I had such perfect opportunities to say “hi” to her. When I could have broken the ice and maybe said something to make her laugh, and flash her smile. Maybe even begin earning her trust as a friend.
It all seems so simple now.
The tragic irony, I have discovered, is that by admiring her from afar in the Cyrano-like way I have I have convinced her that I only think of her as an object. Her friends certainly think this is true.
Yes, I think she is pretty. I think the world thinks she is pretty. Who wouldn’t?
And yet, though she might never believe it, that’s not the reason the thought of her fills my mind so often.
So often when I think of her I am wondering if she’s ok, because of all of the injuries she’s had in her career.
I am wondering if she’s eating, because of all of the social media references she makes to dieting, and fitness, and weight loss.
I am wondering if she’s intellectual.
I am wondering if she’s kind-hearted, or short-tempered.
I am wondering if she’s shy and introverted or outgoing and boisterous.
I am wondering if she’s “hip hop” or “haute couture”.
I am wondering if she’s charming.
I am wondering if she enjoys reading, and if so, what she might like to read about.
I am wondering what kind of music she enjoys listening to, and what kind of movies she likes to watch.
I wonder if she’s close with her family.
I wonder if she has another career other than professional tennis.
I wonder what she likes to do in her spare time, when she isn’t playing or practicing tennis, or working.
I am wondering if she’s “political”, or “feminist”.
I am wondering if she is materialistic or has simplistic needs.
I am wondering if she is “girly” or more of a tomboy.
I am wondering if she likes to dance, and if so, what is her favorite type of dancing?
I am wondering if she is a good kisser.
I am wondering all of these things, and more, and in my head, I often imagine what she might say if we had a conversation about them. I think about her in this way an awful lot.
The internet is really fascinating place these days. There’s a lot of crap in a lot of places that can do and provide a lot of really cool stuff. And there’s a lot of information out there.
Maybe subconsciously I have engaged in surreptitious and somewhat deceitful game, trying to figure out more about her, without actually being….”invested”. Plausible deniability.
I can always tell myself, “I can’t be hurt if she doesn’t like me because I never liked her.” But that is complete bullshit. I know it, her friends know, she must know it. Because the real down-to-brass-tacks matter of fact of it is that I think I have fallen for her. Hard. And now I want to get know the ins and outs of who she is as a person, behind all of the facades–the real her.
Maybe she thinks that way, too. Then again, she is somewhat akin to royalty, and I am from the other side of the tracks. Maybe she truly looks down her nose at people of my social standing.
Regardless, I do hope that someday, she and I are able to face one another and have an honest conversation. About the possibility of getting to know each other.
I would like that. I hope she would too.