I Know Nothing About You

I wrote a post titled "I’m Beautiful And Ugly And Misunderstood", almost exactly two years ago. In it I expressed how I feel my family doesn’t even know me. I mean REALLY know me. Know the REAL me. I cited the example of how my Grandmother always thought my favorite color was yellow. It’s not. It’s red. It was never yellow. She wanted me to like yellow, so in her head she made my favorite color be yellow. She did this for both of my sisters too, decided our favorite colors for us. I never understood it, but I accepted it. I went on to state that it’s not just about my favorite color. It’s about everything. I’m misunderstood. I’m improperly interpreted. I’m wrongly judged. I feel the depth of me is unappreciated. I feel it is my fault because the depth of me has yet to be seen. I fail to show the many layers that lie beneath my skin. Everyone knows my outer shell. Hardly anyone knows my inner core. I had gone on to question why that was. Why does my Grandmother seem to know so little of me when I know so much of her? Is it the lack of my story telling? Is it my failure to openly share every aspect of my soul? Or is it the lack of her wanting to know me? Truly know me. Two years later I find myself asking these same questions once again, but not about my relationship with my Grandmother. This time around, it’s about a girl.

What I don't know about her could fill a book. So what do I know about her for sure? Well I know that I make her smile. And I suppose for now that’s good enough for me. In time, the rest will come. For now, I dread someone catching me thinking about her and saying, "Tell me about her." I don’t dread that conversation because I’m ashamed or embarrassed to have her face pass thru my mind, but because my response would be, "Umm. I don’t know where to even start." And that wouldn’t be my bashful way of saying there’s so much to her that I can’t even begin to summarize her beauty inside and out. No, it’s because I really don’t know where to start because I haven’t even got to know her that well myself. Although I'm hopeful that will soon change. That the unknown won't be forever etched in stone.

It’s not that we don’t talk, because we do, a lot! It’s just that I have no idea what we talk about - nothing of substance apparently. I guess we just bullshit the time away. Between all the joking around and flirting, I couldn’t even tell you what is really said. That sounds strange, I know. And believe me, this has come to the forefront of my mind lately and I’ve begun questioning it...or rather questioning her.

I’ve seen every inch of you naked and even brought you to orgasm, but until last night, I didn’t even know what your favorite color was. I had to ask because I wanted to know. You must have thought I was a bit odd asking you what your favorite color was, along with your favorite number and favorite food, like I was some 5-year-old conducting a survey. I inquired about your family as well because it doesn’t seem right to me that I know of that teeny tiny mark beneath the inner curve of your right butt cheek, but I have no idea how many siblings you have. The most important figures in your life are your family. And if they’re important to you, they’re important to me. Now I’m not saying you need to introduce me to your Mom. I’m just saying that I want to know that you have a family. I want to know who they are, that they exist. Is that ok?

I shouldn’t have titled this post "I Know Nothing About You", because after last night, that’s no longer true. I now know your favorite color! Although, I still have much to learn. So I ask one more thing from you. I ask that you take me out of my comfort zone. Teach me something new. Show me your world. I’m open to whatever you want to throw at me. I’m a sponge. Soak me up in you.

It should go without saying - I'm ready, willing and eager to learn.