When I was about six years old, my dad was driving me home from basketball practice when he asked me the stupidest question I’d ever heard.
“How many days are in a week?”
“Seven, duh!”
He reached for the radio dial. “Listen to this, and you might change your mind.”
I ain’t got nothin’ but love, girl, eight days a week.
And that’s how it started.
Since that day, I’ve been searching for a guy who thinks there are eight days in a week. A guy who is happy just to dance with me. A guy who just wants to hold my hand.
You know I love you still. Will I wait a lonely lifetime? If you want me to, I will.
Some girls say the Disney princesses gave them unrealistic expectations about love. Not me. I blame The Beatles. I’ve been spending my life waiting for a boy who exists only in a Beatles song.
If you let me take your heart, I will prove to you/ we will never be apart, if I’m part of you.
And it seems like most of the guys I meet are trying desperately to enlighten me as to just how unrealistic my dreams are. In fact, the first time I walked into the Thirsty Turtle, those dreams were nearly shot to hell.
I felt like I needed to shield my eyes from the sultry corners of the dance floor. Girls in high heels and short skirts were clinging onto the arms of boys they didn’t know. Boys, drunk and sweaty, were prowling the dance floor looking for groups of girls with intoxicated stragglers.
“Hershey’s factories make millions of kisses a day, but I’m only asking for one.”
“Excuse me, I lost my phone number. Could I borrow yours?”
And that’s how it ended.
Some day when we’re dreaming, deep in love, not a lot to say/ then we will remember the things we said today.
I’m not trying to say that nice guys never come along or don’t exist (that argument is negated by guys like my brother, male cousins and male friends). But these days, guys like them seem so hard to find. Instead of “just call on me, and I’ll send it along with love from me to you,” we get “do you have a Band-Aid? I just scraped my knee falling for you.”
Instead of “we can work it out,” we get “it’s not you, it’s me.” Instead of “love you forever and forever, love you with all my heart,” we get “I’m not really looking for a relationship; I’m just talking about tonight.”
A love like ours/ could never die/ as long as I/ have you near me.
Maybe these really are unrealistic expectations. Maybe I really am looking for someone who doesn’t exist. Or maybe I’m just waiting for George Harrison to walk through my door.
I love you more than ever, girl, I do … I’m living every moment, girl, for you.
Whether it’s realistic or impractical, real or imagined, I know exactly what I’m waiting for.
Keep all my love forever.
P.S. I love you.
Rachel Hare is a senior French language and literature and journalism major. She can be reached at hare at umdbk dot com.
