2 / 24 / 2019

It’s strange how fast emotions change.

I’ve worked with her on and off for the past two years, and when we first met, I thought she was attractive; however, I had an immediate dislike for her. She was subpar at her job, and she was often in a bad mood. I left my store about six months having met her, and I retained the same sentiment I had for her when I left. When I came back nine months later, I remember talking to her. I was at work near the back of the store sitting alone at a table, and she was going to start her shift. She had a few minutes to spare, so we began talking. I don’t recall about what–but I remember telling her that she had lost a lot of weight since I had last seen her. There was some casual talk about life.

It was probably the first real conversation I had with her, and it’s probably the first memory where I thought of her from a different perspective. I don’t know when it had begun to happen, but we began having a lot of fun joking around during our shifts. She was working full-time at this point. She had learned how to handle the bar, and when I was in charge, we’d spend most of her shift joking around. It’s strange how quickly she became one of my favorite people to work with.

So it’s been about eight months later, and here I am. I don’t know what to call it. Maybe I love her romantically? Maybe I’m just trying to hold onto something romantically tangible, and if that’s the case, then I’m probably doing something that’ll both damage me and our relationship. But I can’t help but think of these quick slip of the tongues where she told me, “I think of you more often than you think,” or how often she wants to spend time together, or how we spent valentines together–even if it was with a few friends.

She spends time with a lot of people though, so maybe I’m reading this all wrong. I don’t know. I’ve always excelled at being a judge of character, but when it comes to romantic interests, I feel more than inept.

Still.

This is the first time in such a long time where I’ve had someone who I want to spend time with outside of work. I don’t know what we’d do. I don’t think we have all to many of the same interests. She smokes a lot of weed and cigarettes, and aside from that, I know she struggles with her relationship with her mom. I know she likes Beauty and the Beast, Pirates of the Caribbean, and likes lights, whether it’s those from the universe or fairy lights she can string along the ceiling of her room.

Her birthday is tomorrow.

She’s turning twenty-four. I’m thirty-two.

I probably spent too much, but despite whatever we are, I’m okay with that. I think she will be too.

It’s hard to understand any of this, but I tell her I love her. She tells me she loves me. I tell her I miss her. She tells me she misses me. I want to spend time with her. She wants to spend time with me.

Maybe it doesn’t necessarily need to be any more complex than that.

I hope I can figure what to do when we hang out. It’s something she looks forward to, and it’s something I barely understand. I’ve been alone so long that it’s difficult to know how to interact with other people.