A Royal Affair
Maybe it was the ubiquity of Kate and William in the news lately that I thought I saw my own star-crossed-commoner-and-crown-prince romance in you. Of course, you're not really royalty and I am anything but common (hah), but you remind me so much of a dapper young man whose mother, Benazir Bhutto, was the closest thing Pakistan had to royalty. Like him, you speak with an upper-class British accent, indicative of your posh exclusive schooling and expat upbringing in the land of your colonial masters. Also like him, there is a regal air about you, compounded by the fact that you are simply and undeniably hot. But most impressive is the power and substance by which you forge your words -- I'm sure they would have been even more powerful and substance-filled if I wasn't so distracted by your eyes. It does not alarm me that I first saw you at a discussion on women human rights defenders, at a regional forum that I had gatecrashed, or that the very next day I bumped into you at the gay pride march. It only goes to show that you are confident enough in your masculinity to advocate women and gay rights.
Please know that this admiration is without hope or agenda, because I knew you were leaving the country right after the forum. I only wish I had told you just how cool I thought you were, but then I reckon somebody -- or some people -- had already done that, easing a bit of the massive self-doubt you harbor despite your seeming perfectness. And in that, I can already be happy.
I never told you this, because we never spoke a word to each other, but I have a pathologic inability to maintain any form of romantic relationship. That, or I have the worst luck in the world. Often, the romantic relationship just wanes and dies a natural death; sometimes, the guy turns out to be a complete ass. But saddest of all, the romantic relationship turns out to exist only in my head. (Yes, apparently this can happen. To me, anyway.) You'd think I would be jaded by now -- and I admit, I believed I was for a while -- but seeing you, feeling the way I did about you, made me realize how much I am still very much alive inside. And how can I be a cynic now, when in this universe of countless permutations I've crossed paths with someone like you? The odds must be in my favor. Maybe next time, the guy wouldn't have a plane ticket in his pocket, and maybe I would actually get to talk to him instead of just blogging hypothetically about him.
So thank you. I might not ever see you again, but that chance encounter was enough. I am un-jaded and hopeful, free from all excess baggage and once again ready to throw caution to the wind, even if it means losing over and over again before I finally meet him. I only hope he has your regal aura and sharp sense of style but even if he doesn't, I know he'd still be royalty in my eyes. It would certainly help a lot though if his name was Harry, Prince of Wales.
Please know that this admiration is without hope or agenda, because I knew you were leaving the country right after the forum. I only wish I had told you just how cool I thought you were, but then I reckon somebody -- or some people -- had already done that, easing a bit of the massive self-doubt you harbor despite your seeming perfectness. And in that, I can already be happy.
I never told you this, because we never spoke a word to each other, but I have a pathologic inability to maintain any form of romantic relationship. That, or I have the worst luck in the world. Often, the romantic relationship just wanes and dies a natural death; sometimes, the guy turns out to be a complete ass. But saddest of all, the romantic relationship turns out to exist only in my head. (Yes, apparently this can happen. To me, anyway.) You'd think I would be jaded by now -- and I admit, I believed I was for a while -- but seeing you, feeling the way I did about you, made me realize how much I am still very much alive inside. And how can I be a cynic now, when in this universe of countless permutations I've crossed paths with someone like you? The odds must be in my favor. Maybe next time, the guy wouldn't have a plane ticket in his pocket, and maybe I would actually get to talk to him instead of just blogging hypothetically about him.
So thank you. I might not ever see you again, but that chance encounter was enough. I am un-jaded and hopeful, free from all excess baggage and once again ready to throw caution to the wind, even if it means losing over and over again before I finally meet him. I only hope he has your regal aura and sharp sense of style but even if he doesn't, I know he'd still be royalty in my eyes. It would certainly help a lot though if his name was Harry, Prince of Wales.