Trifles

It really was true. Every single word I ever said to Her, from the niceties to the grayer points, rang loudly and clearly to be completely truthful. At least they did to me. You see, She has a most spectacular way of bending and flexing every sinew and muscle into a machine adept at dodging every single bit of complement that might splatter upon dropping a delicious complement trifle.

I now realize that I have been going about all of this in the wrong manner. Instead of flinging vague generalizations such as: "I like the fact that you are nice," or the ever-popular, "You look pretty," I should instead wait to a point when I am completely awestruck with the idea that this girl, whom I have known for over five years, could send my jaw to the floor with something amazingly unique as a gesture I had never seen before, and then give Her a heartfelt compliment. You see, in times where self-image is everything and people (children) are trying so hard to make themselves fit into whatever clique or gang they desperately want to be a part of without taking the three steps back to see that it is not where they want to be at all, it is the quality of the speech that counts, not the quantity. By lamenting the facts constantly (or even praising the pros), the chance to practice blocking out whatever words of wisdom is only given more frequently, making the most heartfelt of soliloquies stumble and fall upon deaf ears.

I should just be the aggressor for once in my life and not tell Her that She isn't fat. Hell, even a blind man can see that She isn't fat. I should, instead, time my actions perfectly so my subtle praise falls upon Her soft earlobes as soon as She least expects it, forcing Her to twirl around on the nimble toes of a dancer and fall helplessly into my strong arms.