I love blue. The skies are the wrong shade of blue to everyone else but me. Gloom is probably my most preferred mode of being. But, that day, it’s as if the clouds around my mind drifted as I laid my eyes on him. Now, I am not one for leering at strangers (God, who am I lying to? I stare at things for long in the name of science) but, this felt perfectly legal. I am sure if he had noticed, I would have a restraining order put out in my name. He was one of the most beautiful things I had laid my eyes on in a while. But, it wasn’t as much of his face as it was the blue. I write a lot about the colour. I know. But, honestly, it’s not like that matters to the 48 (HOLY SHIT. THERE ARE THAT MANY OF YOU? I just found out my Dad is a subscriber by email. Shit.) of you, does it?

It’s a blue I had seen on someone else in a photograph long, long ago. It’s how I fell in love with the colour at all. Headfirst and spiralling downwards before I learn to fly. The blue curved and changed shades in the evening light, making folds around his body. With every roll of the sleeve, I imagined one page of his life turning over to the next. One roll for his best friend in school who he hasn’t called in four years. One roll for his mom who called up that afternoon to see if his cold was better. One roll for the boss who had no other business than to piss him off and the last, resigned one with a sigh for himself.

In those 15 minutes under the darkening sky and dim street lights, his shoulders never slouched under the weight of impatience or fatigue. He stood with his arms across his chest and waited. Once, he took his phone out and let his face show a little brighter with the tiny light the screen emitted on to his face. It didn’t light his eyes up though. That’s what bothered me so much. Where is the light in your eyes, stranger? Do you not know how you can do that without the lights in the room coming to your aid? Just when I thought I could look for it and ask him to lend me the little light he had, the bus arrived.

I hopped on and turned around for a last look at the blue. Everyone doesn’t like blue, you know. Blue is stable. Blue is calm. Blue is content. I have been searching for the blue long enough to know I might never find it again, which is why I turned back to look. Maybe, I will find the colours I have been searching for. I could paint a picture of him for you with it.

Man Up.

Boys are clueless.

No, I mean really. Here I am, with my chest out and my ego deflated.Everything a woman should be. My heart is on my sleeve and I even have the loud laughter on cue when he makes the occasional cute joke. But, boys are as thick as the foam boards I built my science projects on.

He will take the compliment about his shirt everyday. He will listen while I tell him about how I noted his absence. He will even smile back every time I do. But, boy. You are killing me with the lack of clue in your life, baby.

What does a girl do here? I am not saying I am one for grandeur. I’d rather (to say it politely) vomit in a baby’s mouth than have someone ask me out with a grand gesture. It’s only going to be a movie in a theatre with another 100 people, most of whom will be doing the same things we do- trying to find each other’s hands in the dark. Love, calm down.

You know what an ideal world would be? One without social protocol. How long does it take to pick a heart and decide you do not want to break it? Not much, really.

So tell me, half a ray of sunshine, why is it so hard to figure out we are not in high school anymore? Do you not see how I let you play with my hair only because I like you? Only a girl would know how much that means. Only a girl would know it takes a lot to flip her hair like a blithering idiot and dress up in the morning thinking you will check to see if she is around.

Man up.