Complex

I don’t know what to call it, but I feel like everyone is in love with me all the time. Mostly, when I meet a guy, especially one who I become friends with, I have a constant paranoia that he is madly in love with me and that I’m going to break his heart and ruin everything forever. What would you call that?

Anyway, that’s what I’ve got. It’s not that I think I’m extremely attractive or anything, I think I’m mediocre looking. I don’t really think I have that great of a personality either; as a matter of fact, it’s rather prickly at best. None of that really matters though of course. People don’t love people because they’re perfect, they love them because they’re what they wish they were or because they don’t give them what they want. That’s why everyone in the world just wants the person who treats them like they’re dirt because they want to figure them out, change them, fix them, they want the challenge, they want to prove they’re tough enough to deal with them. Weak people say, “I love him/her” what they really mean is “They’re tough, if I can handle them then I’m tough too.” It’s just not true; we can’t all be strong. I was born this way. I was born without whatever it is in your brain that makes you upset when the cute boy in class doesn’t like you or when the popular girl doesn’t like your clothes. I have some sort of handicap I guess, but honestly it’s more like a gift. I just don’t really care that much. I mean I care about starving babies in foreign countries and when my mom cries and when people die young and stuff like that but really besides that things just blow past me like the breeze.

Back to everyone being in love with me: I don’t really care about anything, I don’t lie because if people can’t handle the truth they need to learn how to, I just do what I want basically. People love that. I don’t have those moments when someone is making me feel uncomfortable or shy, I just am the way I am. So when someone meets me they are taken aback. I’m different.  It’s like everyone is a rock collector and I’m the cool one with the crystals inside. Nobody wants Samantha the girl in your Physics class who studies and gets B+’s on every test, drinks on the weekends, and likes to listen to folk music because no matter how exciting she thinks she is or unique she thinks her music taste is the truth is most people are Samanthas. So when her boyfriend of a year meets a girl and breaks up with her leaving her crying with her best friend every night, she won’t see it coming because they were “special.” Then when he goes for the new girl, because he’s the male version of a Samantha, he’ll be surprised when she loses interest in a month because they were “special.” Then he will go running back to Samantha because the truth is they are both boring and are perfect for each other.

Don’t worry I would never actually tell Samantha this, or Kyle, or Julie, or Ally, or Tyler, or John. It’s not like they can change what they are. What they are isn’t bad anyway, sometimes I wish I was boring too. You might be thinking, “Man, aren’t you miserable?” or “Do people even like you?” No, I’m not miserable, I’m pretty happy. I get bored of being so not upset all the time but I get over it. And yes, people do like me obviously. Thinking everyone is in love with me isn’t entirely in my head. I actually do have to turn people down a lot. I’m also just rational enough to know that I do get a little paranoid about it sometimes.

I met this guy today. He kept looking at me and smiling. I was sitting in my favorite coffee shop writing a story. I don’t know why people do that: look at you and smile. If you aren’t interested in them they just look creepy. You have to have a lot of confidence in your charm to sit in a public place staring at someone like that. It’s stupid, even me, sitting here telling you about my giant ego would never make myself look stupid like that, no matter how little shame I have. So, we kept making eye contact and he would smile and I smirked back once or twice to keep it from being awkward. Obviously he took that as an invitation and he walked over to my table.  This is a perfect example of why I have a complex.

“Hello, my name is James.”

He stuck out his hand. I looked at it, then shook it.

“Hello.”

“I figured since I was just sitting over there getting bored of my book and you were sitting here alone I would come over and we could both sit here and not be alone anymore.”

“Well, sit down then.”  I was already bored of writing whatever I had been writing and he seemed entertaining at least.

“Is that an invitation?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t expect you to do it.”

“So is it?”

“Yes. It was an invitation.”

“But it’s not anymore?”

“No it still is. Unless you don’t want it to be then I’ll go back to writing.”

He sat down. I didn’t know whether to be annoyed by him or keep talking to him so I just waited for him to start a conversation.

“So do you go to school?”

“Yeah, I go to UCF. You?”

“I don’t go to school. Hey, I’m sure this place will close before we can have a really good conversation how about we meet up another time? You seem interesting.”

“I don’t know about that,” I laughed.

“Don’t be so vain. I just met you, I’m not asking you on a date, I just like a good conversation.”

I would be lying if I didn’t say I was a little bit shocked but I’ve met guys like this. They think if they’re mean they’ll get you interested.

“I am not vain.”

“You’re right. That’s not the right word is it?”

He took the napkin that came with my food out from under my plate used my pen that was on the table to write something down. He slid the napkin over to me and stood up.

“It was nice meeting you, I didn’t catch your name.”

He stuck out his hand again. I shook it without thinking this time.

“It was nice meeting you too.”

“See you around,” he said with a smirk.

            When I read the napkin later it just said:

“You’re arrogant.”