A reason, a story, a secret

Flawed, that's how I like it

It's the bad things that we write down; it's hardly ever the good things. It's the bad things that attract us and makes us feel excited. That description fits my writing, but it also fits my choice of men. I'll tell you a story about this guy. He fits every description. He's bad, he drives me insane, I can't stand him at times yet he is also the one that means the world to me. He's the reason why I can write. Why I can conjure up pretty words and a story. My inspiration, how cliché it may sound, he actually is. So let me tell you my first memory of him.

"Does anyone have water?" he asked everyone but me.

He was very vain already at the age of 13, his hair was messed up and he desperately wanted to fix it with some water. I rolled my eyes at my girlfriends. And I took the bottle of water out of my bag and walked up behind him. I opened the bottle and poured some of it's content on his head. He turned around, his brown eyes big and shocked.

I smiled and innocently said: "You never asked me." I laughed and turned back to my girls.

And then later that afternoon. We were at camp and my girlfriends were cooking and I didn't have kitchen duty. He knocked on our door and we let him in.

He sat right down next to me exclaiming: "It's not fair, your television is so big, ours is the size of THAT!" and he pointed to a small cubicle.

He then turned the television on and went right to the porn pages. After that my friend hit him with a wooden duck, three times.

Those were good times. I remember them so well. We hid his jacket at that camp and we laughed so much. I never noticed him before the camp. But suddenly after that, he was just there. And we got along, always. We went though the years together. Always teasing, always with witty comebacks and pushing each other to the edge. Angering each other, never saying sorry, for sorry was never needed. And besides you just don't apologize for something if you don't mean it. Different memories float around me when I think about us kicking and screaming. There was a day when we were both angering each other. We were cursing each other so badly and then back in class, no more than 15 minutes after the shouting match we were talking to each other with friendly voices again. I examined his arm as he told me that those scars were his sister's fault. Our classmates thought we were crazy. We just laughed it off. I remember the time he got me so mad that he had to run for his life. Never in my life had I been so angered, not to mention this was the first time a boy had angered me like this. But it was quite the memory, almost as good as the memory of me bitch-slapping him, years later he bitch-slapped me once. First time a boy hit me. Out of everyone it just had to be him.

"You stupid fucking idiot. Dare to come back and I will hit you so hard." I yelled in anger. He had just tried to choke me with my scarf. The moment he saw that look in my eyes, he bailed. Our friends were laughing so hard. I ran after him, he ran out of the hall, out of the school. The best thing he'd ever done. The guy just loved to push me over the edge and see me mad. "Stupid wank." I muttered under my breath. My friend pulled me along side. A little careful as she didn't know if I was still that dangerous as I seemed. The next day he and I got on fine again. Both forgetting that he angered me and that I was mad at him. I could never stay mad at him long enough. We never stayed mad at each other for longer than a day.

The world sees him different. To his teachers he's a problem child. To his classmates he's a bully. He's someone you don't want to like. He's not nice to the people he doesn't like. He had that reputation. He's not someone you want to associate with. He and his little group of friends. They are to be feared, ruthless, but you do know where you stand. Either they like you or they don't and if they don't, they make fun of you. It's that easy to define.

"That's so typical them. What did the teacher say?" My friend said rolling her eyes.

I shrugged. He always gets in trouble. "I heard they skipped school and Julie went to the teachers to tell. Kind of low if you ask me, but Julie just dislikes them." I said to her and she rolled her eyes again.

"Face it, love, everyone in this school dislikes them. They're such bastards. I can name tons of people who would love to see them burn in hell."

I shook my head, a faint smile playing around my lips: "I know, of course I know. They spread 'Silia loves blow jobs' around the school last year. And then Silia's little brother tried to tackle one of them, and they shoved him against the wall. And later on the little boy ran crying to the teachers. Predictable, but who in their right mind would try and do that. You know they'd be taking revenge one way or the other...''

"Exactly and Silia and her friends aren't the only one who'd love to see them burn." My best mate added and made a face. She disliked them and she had her reasons too.

"Damn right. I'd love to see them burn too." another girl chipped in. I turned and looked into her blue orbs. She used to be my friend until the moment I had enough of her and chucked her aside. Over the years we still talked, but we weren't friends anymore. "I can't stand them. And I have enough reasons for not liking them one single bit." she ranted. I could do nothing but nod, because she was telling the truth. They had made her life living hell for years. They eased down a bit nowadays and didn't do thing directly at her, but they still do things behind her back. "I just hate them and hope they burn. And I know that to you they're nice. They like you. But you are just the exception. And you know it."

I couldn't say that she wasn't right. So I just smiled apologetically. "I know and I know how they are, but I know how he is to me too. And I just see some things differently."

"You're the only one." my best mate shrugged.

Now honestly, throughout these 5 years. How do I define him? What is he to me and only to me? What do I see when I look at him. He's not bad looking that's a certainty. One would say he's quite handsome at first glance even. His eyes stand a little too close though, when you look closely at his face. His nose is slightly too long en his lips might be a little too thin. That is what you see when you look at him intensely, that second glance that you will only get to have if he lets you; you see the flaws. But you can also see the always present glint of mischief in his eyes. You see that particular way he smiles at you as a sign that he liked you. You see every shade of grey surrounding him and you just know he's different, that he is more than what he seems. That he's not as black and white as he first seemed. And when he looks at me and smirks knowingly I just know that he captivates me in every single way. He's most definitely not flawless, but I am not looking for someone flawless. I am not looking for perfection. I am looking for the one who just has my heart. Someone who's nice and caring and laughs with me. And although he has a bad reputation and everyone thinks he's a bad guy. He's just not. He's anything but. At least, with me he isn't. And as long as I see that and know that, it doesn't matter what the world thinks of him. I just know better.

"Your hands are so small." he smiled at me. Our fingers laced together. He looked down at me. His eyes soft. He put his other hand on the small of my back, drawing me close. I could feel my heart fluttering inside of me. He gave me that look. He smirked at me, his eyes twinkling. Our lips connected and we forgot the cold around us for a split second as we lose each other in the kiss. I teased him by pulling back a few times lightly. Our foreheads touching. He smirked en his eyes showed amusement. He wanted more. I loved that look on him. We stayed there on that bench. People passing us by. To them we seemed endearing, a couple in love, nothing extra-ordinary. And that feelings felt so good. That we were just like any other couple even if the truth was quite different. "I'll protect you." he whispered in my ear. And I believed him.

It's funny how we did end up with each other. A friend keeps saying me that we have that x-factor. That certain magnetic pull. She doesn't know the truth that we are actually together. She cannot see the clues I sometimes give her, just to see if she can guess. I' m playing with fire by doing that, but she doesn't see it. And somehow I just think that's funny. She's too caught up in her own love life to think about someone else's. Yet maybe that's a very good thing. Few people know about him and me. He and I are a secret that just isn't meant to be told. He made me smile as he actually compared us to Romeo & Juliet in modern times one time. Never could I've thought that he'd be one to make that comparison. Never did I think he'd be one to quote Mariah Carey and write "All I want for Christmas is you" to me. Never did I think we were that serious, until I read the written words. Suddenly assuming and mind games were all too real. His words made me realize that we were serious. He was serious about us. Those written words proved that he'd be there for me, that I could trust him and that he'd protect me always. And I felt vulnerable, fragile and relieved.

"To me he's different." I said to my best mate. We were in Belgium that day. We sat in a restaurant, chatting and eating. Catching up, because we hadn't really spoken for a while.

"Yes, to you. But to the others he's a bastard." She interjected.

I could do nothing but agree: "I know he is, I'm the first to admit that he is and he's my boyfriend. And I know people will never think anything good about all of this, but he makes me happy. And that counts right?"

She looked at me, her bright blue eyes connecting with my own brown ones. She took a sip from her drink. "I know to you he's different. And I can hardly picture him being nice and sweet. But yes, if he makes you happy than that most definitely counts. And your family?"

"... know nothing right now. I'm feeling slightly guilty about it, but there's no other way yet. Nothing is easy in my life. I'm glad that he's patient and that he understands. He's not pressuring me and that's a good thing." I told her gently.

"People will say many things when it comes out." she said knowingly. "Those things won't be all too positive."

"I'm risking it, because for now this just feels right." I looked at her. Determined of my choice and she then give me a smile. She understood and that made me happy.

They say that loving him will bring only tragedy. I'll just give you these facts: to some he's an enigma. To some is he a failure. To some he's a tease. To some he's their hatred. But to me he's sometimes so predictable. To me he opens up. To me he shows emotions. To me he doesn't pretend. He does care, he's open minded and he's patient. He understands every aspect of me. So if loving him will bring me tragedy, then by god, give me tragedy. Because I wouldn't trade these feelings back for anything in the world.