Dear Dyet, you don’t ask me a lot of questions about myself, but when you do, even a simple question contains hidden layers of complexity. Like the statement and question above, for example. You asked that over a month ago, and although I gave you the best answer I had at the time, I’ve been thinking more deeply about it ever since.
Contrary to your message, I have always felt that I was neither particularly articulate nor particularly deep, so imagine my surprise when you said I was both. Similar to your “just an ordinary girl” comment, I too have always considered myself to be “just an ordinary guy” – not exactly deserving of anyone’s extraordinary attention.
I wasn’t really getting anywhere in thinking about a response to this by myself, so I decided to ask a friend.
I have a co-worker named Shane; I guess he’s considered my assistant, and we talk about a lot of things. He’s a cool cat, and I like him. While several of my co-workers know about you, I don’t necessarily open up to them fully. But Shane? He knows the most about my thoughts and feelings in re this situation, and I’ll recount to you the conversation we had. So you don’t have to imagine this guy, I’ll show you a picture.
This is Shane and his bride on their wedding day.
Me: Shane, you busy? I wanna talk to you about something.
Him: Sure, bud. I’m just mannequin shopping for this year’s Halloween display.
Me: Gonna have a big shindig this year?
Him: Bigger than last year’s.
Me: Cool. I might try to come down.
Him: Come on then. You’ll get free admission. Now, what’s up?
Me: You know, I’ve been talking to you about this girl, right?
Him: (eyebrows raised) Yeah. Dyet. Why are you smiling right now?
Me: (attempting to frown) Don’t worry about it. I’ve got something serious to talk about.
Him: (eyebrows raised further) Okay.
Him: But you’re still smiling though.
Me: Alright, so I am. But I gotta talk to you about something.
Him: You buy a plane ticket yet?
Me: What? No. No. Now don’t change the subject.
Him: Ok, shoot.
Me: Dyet.
Him: Aaaand, he’s smiling again.
Me: (ignoring this last statement) She called me articulate and deep.
(pregnant pause)
Him: (only one eyebrow raised now) And?
Me: And what? That’s it.
Him: (slightly squinting as if waiting for the punchline) But, and?
Me: There is no “But, and”. She called me articulate and deep, fool.
Him: (looking concerned for my mental health) And what’s the issue here?
Me: Look, Shane, I’ve showed you some of the messages I’ve sent her, right?
Him: Right.
Me: Well, the issue is: Dyet has only ever heard my writing voice.
Him: Again, and?
Me: Shane, my writing voice, my speaking voice, and my inner voice are all three different. So different, in fact, that whenever we finally get the chance to speak to each other, she’s going to be disappointed. Sometimes I’m barely literate.
Him: Why would you say that?
Me: She’s gonna think that this whole time I had Cyrano de Bergerac writing those messages.
Him: (laughing now) Dude, are you listening to yourself right now?
Me: What do you mean?
Him: Patrick, your writing voice and your speaking voice are the exact same voice.
Me: …
Him: (exasperated now)Look, you and I are sitting on an oil rig in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico, and you just name-dropped Cyrano de Bergerac. Seriously, who even does that if not somebody articulate and deep?
Me: (suspiciously) Go on.
Him: Look, you do talk like us – when it suits you. When we’re just sitting around talking about nonsense, you’re right there talking about nonsense too.
Me: And?
Him: And more-so when someone comes along from whom you want to hide the real you or when you want someone to underestimate you. You switch to slang, start softening your T’s, start dropping your G’s, and start mixing in some colorful curse words.
Me: And what about the other times?
Him: Well, when something comes up in which you are very excited or about which you have strong emotions, your writing voice appears. Sometimes in mid-thought.
Me: Bro, get the hell oudda here. You’re spittin’ nonsense now. When did you start channeling Carl Jung and get so exceptionally perceptive?
Him: See, you just did it again. Mid-thought.
Me: (blinks while recounting last statement) …
Me: (sighs) Fair enough. You have a point.
Him: I mean, it’s not a bad thing, but the truth is, you can start talking over somebody’s head at the drop of a hat.
Me: So, do I ever seem like people bore me?
Him: Just the people you don’t like.
Me: Meh, I can live with that.
Him: Same.
Me: (concealing laughter) Seriously though. When did you get so damn perceptive?
Him: F*** off.
Me: (laughing openly now) You know I have to write your performance review this weekend.
Him: I’m sorry. F*** off…sir.
Me: Now, that’s better.
So, there you have it.
My voice changes depending on the person I’m talking to and/or what we’re talking about.
By now, it should be no secret how I feel about you and our conversations.
You’re adorable. And you have brains.
Is it any wonder why I feel excited and have strong emotions about you?
PS:
And you are definitely NOT ordinary by any denotations or connotations of the word. You are beautiful, charming, and intelligent. Are you aware how rare those qualities are in one person?