Loves first kiss or loves first crush…

Everyone keeps asking me what it feels like to have a book out.  The best answer I can give is in a metaphor.

 It’s your senior year.  You’ve been dating a very handsome and wonderful guy for almost 6 months.  Neither you nor he has said, “I love you” yet.
Your heart skips a beat when you pass him in the halls.  You smile when you hear his voice on the other end of the phone.  You know you’re falling in love with him.  But why hasn’t he said that he loves you?  This feeling is making you worried and uncomfortable.
He calls after school on a Friday and asks if tomorrow you would like to go out to your favorite restaurant with him … just the two of you … no friends.  You feel the butterflies in your stomach and try not to sound too eager when you say “yes.”
You and he have been on many dates before, but usually friends are there too.  And he’s come over to watch movies at your house.  You’ve been over to his a few times as well.  You always see him, at least once, over the weekend.  But this date was going to be special; you’re going to tell him how you feel.
That night you can’t sleep.  You don’t even feel like calling and talking to your best friend because if she finds out it might get to him before you tell him.  She’s a great best friend, but you can hold your breath longer than she can hold a secret.  You lay there most of the night thinking of all the things he might say.  You’re hoping your brave enough tomorrow.  You’re scared, but you still love him.  You think about not going tomorrow out of fear, but you need to.  If you don’t tell him tomorrow, you know you never will.  You finally pass out into dreamland.
The next morning, when you wake up, you have a new zit in the dead center of your forehead.  You take longer than you ever have getting ready.  Thank goodness you started at noon and he isn’t going to pick you up until 6pm.  When you get ready you cover up your pimple with your bangs and some foundation.  You wear your hair down and in curls; because that is the way he likes it.  You take your time with each curl to make sure it is faultless.  You wear a dress that is most flattering to your curves.  You shaved your legs more careful then you ever have before; out of fear of having to wear a bandage under you tights.  You do your make-up just a little different, but it turns out great.  As you put on your new shoes you see you have a run in your tights.  With a heavy sigh you change them, now you are ready.  You look in the mirror.  Everything is done.  You look at your hands, you forgot your fingernails.  Tonight you need everything perfect, you don’t want one single detail to go unnoticed.  You sit down and do your nails.  The doorbell rings right as you are putting on your lip gloss and perfume.  You are ready.  You walk down the stairs, more nervous than you’ve ever been before.  He’s there waiting for you.  Your mom tells you look cute, she smiles, and leaves after you’ve descended the stair case.  He helps you with your coat.  You wished he would say something.
On the way there he mentions that you smell nice.  You smile and say thank you, so happy to receive a complement.  At your destination he turns, looks at you, and smiles but says nothing.  He gets out of the car.  You feel very panicky right now.  You’re out here, no friends to joke with, no car of your own to leave in, what if he dumps you and you’re all alone.  The car door opens, it’s him.  You step out.  Both of you walk into the restaurant.  You can’t find words.  The two of you always talk, but there are no words now.  You feel a lump in your throat.  You look around nervously.  When you are both seated he makes a joke about how maybe the two of you should have come with a few friends.  That didn’t help you any, now you’re thinking about not saying anything and never leaving your house again.
As you are sitting across the table from him you look at him.  He is so handsome.  He is everything you love and want in a boyfriend.  You think of your first date for a minute and smile at him.  Then, without much more thinking, you say it … you say, “I love you.”  He looks at you for what feels like eternity with a blank stare.  You just wish you could crawl under a rock and hide.  But you said it, it’s out there.  He knows and you are awaiting his response…

 Yeah, that is where I am right now.  He’s staring at me.  I know that he is going to give me many different answers.  Some will be bad, some good, but I hope that the good out weighs that bad.

For all authors out there who have been here before me, I just want to let you know; I think you are all very brave people.  For all of you that are getting here … I hope he says that he loves you very much.  Good luck to you all!

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9 Responses to Loves first kiss or loves first crush…

  1. Robyn says:

    I can’t wait to read your book :).

  2. Fiona Skye says:

    Oh, what an amazing description! I hope for your sake, he asks you to marry him. 😉

  3. Great story. I know he will tell you he loves you too..and always will!!!!

  4. Heather says:

    Awh, I love the story! Sounds like a perfect description! Have no fear, it will turn out excellent 😉

  5. sarahwinters says:

    Lori & Heather,
    Thank you both for your compliments and optimism, it is greatly appreciated.
    Sarah

  6. islesam says:

    I found you through a chain of blogs linking back to mine, so I missed all of the hardships and pain getting here; but a HUGE congratulations for finally making it! I know the butterflies and the waiting is intense and terrifying, but you did it! As a fellow aspiring author, I can say nothing more than that I am so proud of you for reaching that point. It’s one that many people avoid. You give me hope. One day, I want to be at that table across from you, positively terrified and excited all at once, waiting to hear what he’s going to say.

    • sarahwinters says:

      Thank you very much. I’m so glad to give others hope. It’s scary. Once you’re out there, there is no taking it back. Your book is there for everyone to read, see, criticize, enjoy, love, or be ignored. I thought of Emily Dickinson a few times before I started this journey. I thought of her work being great but it was found hidden throughout her room like little treasures after she was dead. In her life she was never truly noted for her great work. Not because she tried and failed, but because she was a recluse. If memory serves, only about 12 of her poems were even noted in her life time. I don’t think I’ll ever be as great as she is, and I haven’t written poetry in years, but she gave me the push I needed.
      When you’re sitting there, staring at him and waiting for what feels like eternity, I hope he says he loves you with flowers, chocolates, and a ring.
      Good luck!
      Sarah

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