Not Your Kind of Girl

I don't even know what you saw in me.

No. I am not fishing for compliments here.

Just curious, if you ask me.

You see, I'm not your type. I know that.

I'm not the pretty, shy girl that smiles like an angel that fell from the sky.

No, I am not.

I'm not the sexy, alluring girl in her cheerleader's uniform that astounds the crowd with her God-given gifts.

Definitely not.

I'm not even the braids-and-glasses girl at the bleachers staring lovingly at a football player hoping that someday he would notice her existence.

Sigh. I wish I am, but I’m not.

You see, I'm just well, me. Normal to others, boring to some.

So normal that you wouldn't even notice me in a crowd.

Like some blurry image that passes by in this mundane world, you wouldn't even spare a glance.

No special features, no best asset. Just plain.

Like plain rice.

So, what did you see in me?

If not my physical attributes, then maybe my character?

Help me, for I am lost.

Because I'm not even sweet. No, no.

I wouldn't even call you baby, darling, honey or anything.

Just your name.

I don't even know how to flirt, to be honest. I don't know how to use my eyelashes and even the lip biting thing to lure someone, just like in the movies.

I'm sure if I would try that you'd be puking right now.

I'm that awkward.

You know I don't even like chocolates and flowers, right?

But the books that you gave me, they were highly appreciated.

I don't even cry at romantic films but I laugh at horror movies.

I know you were so embarrassed when I laughed so hard when we were watching that horror movie at the cinema.

Sorry.

But I like watching mystery films/series with you. Especially when I'm always right at guessing who is the culprit/murderer.

You would always tease me that I'd be a serial killer someday, after all, psychopaths recognized their own kind.

Well, that can be arranged. So be careful and don't ever try to cheat on me.

K-I-D-D-I-N-G. Just kidding.

But don't cheat, okay?

You loved sports whereas I loved watching sports.

You laughed at me when I cried when Ronda Rousey was beaten by Holly Holm on their match-up. Truly, a sad day.

I can see John Cena, I wonder why others cannot.

I talk trash when watching basketball games. I'm a fan of underdog teams and hates bandwagon.

Though, we don't support the same team.

And whenever I talked about year 1942, pyramids of Egypt, Hanging Garden of Babylon, Aztecs, Mayans, Incas, Vikings, Akkadians, Sumerians, Spartans--- okay, Ming Dynasty—do you want me to continue? No? -to you it was a lullaby. You can't help but fall asleep.

History is boring, eh? But not for me.

I don't know what you saw in me, or why you chose to stay with me.

Maybe we complement each other. So different, yet we understand one another.

Or maybe you don't have a choice but to be with me.

Which I totally doubt.

Whatever it was. Don't ever change.

Because I want you here, beside me.

And please, don't ever forget:

I know how to hide a dead body. 😂