The Question: Unanswered?

It was a beautiful, sunny day in June 2018 where I mustered enough courage to ask my crush at the time, Shelbi, out on an exotic sushi date. I never received much attention in my earlier years of high school, and for the first time, I felt valued as an individual. There was a tendency to put on a mask to present my best self. Still, if a person knows who they are, what value they bring into relationships, and how to conduct that said relationship, that mask is but a tool to hide their insecurities. Only I learned this revelation too late.

We've been on numerous outings, all of which included excellent, hot caramel macchiatos and extensive conversations about faith, relationship difficulties, and traumas faced as individuals held at our local coffee shops.

But this occasion was unique. I asked Shelbi out on an official date to utilize my gentlemen traits of courtesy, respect, and continence. I had planned everything, or so I thought: the time and place, reservations, hypothetical costs for food, attire, punctuality, and how I would conduct myself from picking my date up to dropping her off. It seems pretty substantial, right? But the one thing that didn't strike a chord in my being was the potential questions Shelbi might ask.

From our coffee conversations, I thought I heard it all: "What are your interests, hobbies, quirks?" "What type of journey led you to be the person you are?" "What's the point in being virtuous if it's easier being cruel?" Among other, inquiries. All of which I could give a thought-provoking answer towards. But while we were sitting in our cozy booth, in the smooth transition of conversation, she posed the question: "Why do you like me so much?"

My heart immediately submerged into a frenzied state. I was like a deer in the headlights of life where I couldn't even form a sentence right. I was paralyzed. With a quick glance and smirk on my face, I said: "Honestly, I don't really know." Followed by forced cliche responses like, "I think you're beautiful," and "I think you're a kind and caring person." My insecurities were blaring, and she could see it. What a farce, all that build-up for a major let-down. Caveat - Guys, this is an example of what not to do, especially if you're insecure.

I dropped my crush off at her residence and ignorantly believed I did pretty well that night, not realizing the absolute dread I would face after calling my sister to update her. Her response was stupefying: "You didn't tell her how you felt? You have to tell her!" I went home that night feeling like the largest buffoon on the planet. Moments later, I decided to write my crush a heartrending poem and give it to her later, but it couldn't possibly make up for the foolish mistake I made by not telling her in the first place.

Reflecting on that time as I'm writing makes it clearly evident of my alarming insecurities - one of which stems from childhood trauma, albeit not thinking or feeling like I'm worthy enough to be with someone because of my faults and the lack of ability. Had I spoke and healed from this specific traumatic experience earlier in my days, it would've changed the majority of my relationships with people. Currently, I feel liberated as a person. Had I learned "The Body Keeps A Score?" Meaning something traumatic you've experienced as a kid may never be understood until you're an adult earlier; perhaps my teen years would have been drastically different and transitioned well into my adult years.

Still, what did she see in me that I couldn't see in myself? Was it some mesmerizing wittiness that laid dormant all these years? Perhaps, I was the first guy who could hold an intellectual and emotional conversation without leading things into the bedroom. That peculiar question still strikes me to this day.