.dream.hope.wish.be.

December, it was warm and raining. And by warm, it was unusually warm, 60 degrees in The Bean. Warm rain that didn’t frizz your hair, largely in fact that you didn’t blow dry it because you knew the weather would not cooperate with your agenda. And by agenda, falling in love. Who can fall in love with frizzy hair? Christmas shopping in downtown crossing was a 20 minute experience…the store that he got a gift certificate too had gone out of business. You pretended to buy your sister a Dooney and Bourke wristlet that mimicked that of the trendy Louie bag that JAPs across this continent coveted more than an 8 year old grasps their Halloween candy bag as they shuffle through crisp leaves on their walk home. The wristlet will end up getting returned for a more classic wallet or maybe a keychain because you lost the receipt in order to get your money back. It has been a week of Christmas parties, birthday celebrations and going out when you were far to tired just to be seen with him. See and be seen, even though Bostonians say that nightlife isn’t their biggest priorities, everyone knows it is, even the metro sexual 27 year old you are falling in love with. Time’s up. He goes back to the chi chi restaurant he manages. You say you are going to do some more shopping and head home even though you are probably going to hop in a cab and go home and take a nap. Awkward moment. Nothing has happened between the two of you, except in your vivid dreams. And you know it’s the same for him. Music always sounds better with him. He invites you to a movie when he gets off work which he has already suggested three previous times throughout the day. You break the silence with and over-enthusiastic FABULOUS. Because that’s what you are. Even on your most down days, you are always fabulous. Everything inside you tells you to touch him as you tilt your head in order to look in his eyes as he speaks. He feels the same. Words are mumbled, two opposite directions are taken. The rain starts harder and muggy air is bringing out all of the smells from the city that have been sleeping since mid-October. Would-a-could-a-should-a is swirling around in your head. Its time for a smoke, only one left, make it last. Dance with the people on the street coming the opposite direction, smile. Debating on getting in a cab due to shear laziness instead of taking the 8 minute walk. Make a phone call and the decision is made for you. Keep walking. Remembering the dream from the night before, every action of the day is analyzed. Flipping through the IKEA catalog during lunch you realize that his neck isn’t clean. As in not cleanly trimmed. Hmm, self-proclaimed metro sexual? You call the new best friend who is CT with her family dying to get back in to the city for blurry nights where neither of you remember how you got home, how much money you spent, or who you offended. I miss you’s, can’t wait for another empty new years and come back soons are exchanged and you’re back to walking, thinking about him. You can’t take your eyes off him you think, how are you going to sit in a movie theatre and pretend. Did I say that I love you? Oh right I did, at the company Christmas party where your best friend couldn’t keep his hands off me. I popped your collar and told you that you were amazing and I could picture myself falling in love with you. I was too intoxicated to remember your reaction. Or did I subconsciously place it in the part of my brain that will never allow me to retrieve it? Everyone tells the truth at Christmas. Be urban, be you, be fabulous, be real. Never let him see you weak, he’s attracted to you because you are care-free, fun and real. Never let him see you sweat, unless he’s on top of you. Five hours of procrastination, some laundry, a load of dishes, a shower, reruns of last season’s OC. Missed phone calls from old friends, new friends, party friends. You have no desire to call them back, no desire to pay 12 dollars for a martini that will end up in your toilet at 4 am after three cannolis at the 24 hour bakery in Little Italy. It’s him. He calls; you play the mute the ringer game in order to seem unavailable. In order to not to let him know that you are waiting for his call. You wait. No message. You call back 4 minutes later, no answer. Quick message, to the point, just saw your call blah, blah, blah. You wait. Decide to blow out your hair because if you really are going to see him, you can’t fall in love with frizzy hair right? It’s getting late, almost too late for movies. He will probably call just in time for the last show, you’ll miss half. Chances are drinks will be offered, and you will have to eloquently pass because you’ve been drunk for a solid week. He knows this, he knows you’ll decline. Did I say that I love you? Probably. Should I have? No. It’s been a solid half hour. Call him again? No. You left a message, which put the ball in his court. In a game that will probably go into overtime and you know you will ultimately win, your palms are sweating in insecurity with no idea how the game will end. Is he just as insecure as you? Yes. Is he willing to break the fraternization rules for a movie? Probably not. Neither of you are ready for the intense awkwardness of seeing a movie. Take out and movies are only comfortable not after two months of dating, but two months of sleeping together. Taking in the late show with your boss, not so comfortable. Playing phone tag and ultimately watching Jay Leno and Conan back to back by yourself: extremely comfortable and familiar, home. You want to be outside, even though the temperature is slowly dropping, and the warm rain is turning to spits of sleet. Your hair is dry and straight, you know it will kink up, but you don’t care. Everyone wants to be in love, in love in the elements, kissing in the park in the middle of December, lights surrounding you, cheerful people passing you by wishing they were you. Christmas: The happiest time of year and the two weeks where the suicide rate is the highest and all you are thinking of is making out in the freezing rain with your boss. We live in a beautiful world. 20 minutes shy of an hour since the last call.