It snowed in New York City. To a lot of people this was a beautiful and romantic thing. For most it was an inconvenience at best. All it did for me was make me think of all the snowfalls I’ve experienced up to this point.
My first one was the worst one. On the day I was born there was about two feet of snow. And so began a longstanding tradition of showing up at the worst possible time.
Beyond that warm welcoming I remember the days and nights of hoping to god I’d get snowed in so that I could have snowball fights with the neighborhood kids. Then when we were tuckered out we’d all return home for movies and hot chocolate. A common occurrence in my household was to go outside and scoop some snow into a cup as a base for makeshift root beer floats.
As I got older the goal was still to get snowed in, but specifically anywhere but home. Preferably wherever there weren't parents snooping around. That way we could smoke weed and drink beer without any added paranoia. We’d laugh for hours at dirty grey snowmen and write our names in the fluff with the yellow ink the good lord gave us.
Getting older still, my attention began to wander. When I discovered that by saying certain words in a certain order that I could convince girls to have sex was a pivotal moment in my youth. Despite all of my prayers I was stuck with the same face but what I lacked in straight teeth and a small nose I made up for in the ability to string along sentences together and make it sound pretty.
Through all types of weather- rain, sleet, snow, and hail- I would make the trek to see about a girl whether I had to walk or not. I was and still am a ‘girlfriend guy’. My intrigue has always been piqued by intimacy above all else. To be able to create a connection between ones self and another person is among the greatest treasures this life has to offer.
This time last year I was enjoying my semester break with a girlfriend that is, in many ways, much like this wonderful winter we’re enjoying. There was comfort in the predictability she gave. Just like the anticipation we all feel as December rolls around the corner, I could rely on her to always stay true to who she was. And much like this soft and sullen snowfall, she was silently graceful. She’d take your breath away long before these freezing temperatures could. Yesterday morning I went outside and took a moment to take in my surroundings. I was so used to the snow coming ever year that I forgot how truly nice it is. Taking nice things in my life for granted is at the bottom of this bottle I’m pouring.
There was a moment earlier today when I made the fatal mistake that I’m sure we’ve all insecurely made at some point or another. I looked to see how she was. What I found wasn’t anything I didn’t expect but there was something that stuck with me. In one picture with the new guy, who I’m sure is all the things I failed to be and more, she’s looking at him with an expression that says things that I won’t attempt to communicate. It’s a face that she, nor anyone, has ever given me; pure sincerity. For a brief second I was staring without context. I was just absorbing the affection radiating from the image, hopeful that I could one day give someone a reason to look at me like that. Then reality came back as it tends to do. Like gravity it brought me back down. The cold spirit of unrequited desire precipitated like snowflakes around my eyes. As I sat there I wondered if maybe she had looked at me like that, and that I just didn’t notice. But I imagine that when someone looks at you like that you can feel it.
I don’t mean to suggest that I am deserving of affection like that from anyone. I know that I can be hard to talk to and that I’m often distant and stubborn. You can understand why I’ve only ever been dumped over the phone. But part of me feels like the only reason we, as humans, have achieved so much is because of our wantingness to love and be loved. It is the driving force that binds us for better or worse.
By no extension of the imagination am I someone whose opinion on love should be taken to heart so take this shot with a generous dusting of salt. What I know is that nothing I have means anything to me if I can’t share it. As much as it may seem like I hate the world, there’s a voice inside that tells me it’s worth fighting for. I don’t want to look back and regret not appreciating things like the snow and the spring and girls who may or may not have looked at me with all the love their hearts could bear.
