There is someone I'm interested in who happens to be the perfect gentleman

Have you ever met someone who is exactly your type? Once upon a time, I had the lovely pleasure of meeting a guy who is intelligent, athletic, sensitive, tall and ridiculously handsome all at once. He writes poems and asks for handwritten letters as gift (where I saw everyone else ask for a gift card), he remembers the wine I asked about exactly once months prior, and he always has a comeback that cracks me up. He plays and follows basketball but also loves Vienna for its deep ties to classical music. Energy drink in hand at 10am but barely finishes a glass of wine because he couldn’t hold his liquor. He acts all mysterious and indifferent but is always the first one to offer help when anyone needs it. I felt exceptionally lucky that he gave me the time of day, as platonic as all the half-flirting, half-sarcasm exchanges have been. A friend asks, “What’s the catch? There has to be something wrong with him.” Save for the fact that he lives thousands of miles away and has recently decided to stop using Instagram in pursuit of becoming a better person, which are two things he isn’t exactly wrong for if I’m being honest, nothing else comes to mind. Unfortunately, I’m not delusional enough to even remotely believe that something can happen between us. I wouldn’t dare mislead you into believing there was anything brewing either. We crossed paths, I liked him, he entertained me, and that’s it. Learning a guy like that exists in a world like this has been the most remarkable thing to come out of that encounter. Put simply, meeting him is enough.

This afternoon, out of nowhere, I received a message that said a gift from him is on its way to me. Mostly out of vanity and fear of being forgotten, I’ve previously sent gifts for people I got to know on his side of the world and he was no exception. Therefore, the wise move is to not put any meaning into it- he probably just wanted to return the gesture. We are friends after all. Not needing to lie, there’s a part of me that wonders why. What for? It’s been months since I left. We don’t stay in touch apart from a few exchanges of bickering every now and then. He doesn’t owe me any nicety or thought. Still, my appreciation for this gesture shoots through the roof.

Very recently, I was drawn to another gentleman of the same nature. Warm and attentive without being overbearing, sings and plays an instrument, donning a pair of boy-next-door eyes and smile to match. For most of the evening, I found him by my side, carrying my things, passing me water to drink, giving me his coat to wear over that emerald green dress that made no attempt to warm my exposed back on a cold January night. He asked about my baby nieces and told me about his sister. Of course he has a sister- they always do. We exchanged Instagram handles and there was a brief moment the next day when I waited for him to reach out (he didn’t). Memories of the evening playing in my head more times than I’d care to admit, and emboldened by the shamelessness of no one knowing, I - a 20 something with access to social media - naturally spent the following Sunday nurturing my newfound crush through ol’ classic cyberstalking. Now, ending the paragraph, I feel morally obliged to mention that he definitely treated every girl the same way that night.

A friend and I dissected every interaction I could remember, one by one, as girls do. The conclusion is that he’s just a really nice guy who looked after a group of drunk girls. Again, the wise move is to not put any meaning into it. Even in this day and age, decent men do nice things for women without any ulterior motive. It’s a win I will happily take on behalf of humanity. I was ready to leave it at that.

But limitless is the trove of wisdom available to those who have people living differently to ask. Another friend’s perspective prompted me to write this piece, the first one in a very long time that isn’t about that other thing. Heartbreak.

So what if those kind gestures didn’t mean anything? It caught your attention, didn’t it? If you’re already interested, who made the rule that every small thing had to mean something first? As a prerequisite to being allowed a feeling, must attraction always be validated? What happened to simply liking someone over something you saw in them?

Besides, isn’t it better that way? It didn’t mean anything, hence he caught your eye in his natural state. Every woman has a tale to tell about a man who swept in like a true knight in shining armor because he was trying to win over the princess. But that never lasts. Cinderella’s glam expires at midnight, and with mascara running down her cheek, Prince Charming passive aggressively demands why she stayed out past 10PM and wore too much makeup. Don’t even get me started on men who are rude to everyone and want you to believe their kindness is a prize.

In this case, you were attracted to someone who wasn’t performing. His warmth drew you in. The comfort of his presence made you want to spend more time with him. These small attractions can flourish into something meaningful if only you have the courage to allow yourself to give in. To do something about it. Opportunities to form genuine connections are often missed when we reduce extraordinary encounters into meaningless interactions simply because we couldn’t find a deeper meaning in it at first glance. When it has been proven time and again that one small choice can drastically alter the trajectory of things, why do we still treat exceptional meetings as a mere product of chance? Why are we so afraid to initiate something?

My feelings about fate are yet to be concluded, but I am (trying to be) an advocate for seizing the moment. How often do chances like this present itself? I know it isn’t on a weekly basis that I feel warm and fuzzy over someone offering to hold something for me. Am I supposed to just move on with my days without giving it another thought? If I’m not even allowed to think about it now, when will I get another chance?

When did being interested become uncool?

Take the risk. Like the guy. Make the move. One wise woman in her thirties told me that she now has everything she wanted at sixteen. The cheat code? Never being afraid to try.