You are my dream girl

About a month and a half ago, I was at a rooftop bar near my school. It was senior week, so the bar was filled with my classmates chatting with their friends, reminiscing on the good times over the last four years of our lives.

Few moments after I entered the bar, a man who was clearly not a soon-to-be-college-graduate but more of a 30 year old man in his prime, stopped me and said, “I don’t mean to bother you. But I just wanted to say that you are my dream girl.”

Before I could respond, he walked away. I stood there for a little bit, trying to make sense of his words. Dream girl? How could I possibly be someone’s dream girl when they haven’t even talked to me? I was confused, so I brushed it off, thinking that he was drunk and spewing nonsense.

I joined my peers in reconnecting with old acquaintances from my freshmen floor, smiling at my could-have-beens, and crying with my soon-to-be-missed friends. Overwhelmed by sadness and nostalgia, I left the bustling crowd to look out the balcony, onto the night streets of my neighborhood.

The man from before joined me. He said, “Look, I’m not trying to hit on you or anything, but I just wanted you to know that you are my dream girl.”

I looked at him and said, “Thank you, but you don’t even know me.”

He smiled and shook his head. “It’s the way you carry yourself, the way you enter the room, and the way you smile at everyone.”

I mmhmmed skeptically, and looked out the balcony as he continued.

“If someone had told me yesterday to draw a picture of my dream girl, I would have drawn you. You are beautiful,” he said. I smiled at him, thinking how ridiculous it was to have someone draw a picture of me to say that I was his dream girl.

“I’m really not trying to get your number or anything. I’m sure you have a boyfriend.”

I thought of a guy I had somethin’ something’ with.

“I guess I’m seeing someone.”

“Does he treat you well?”

“Well he doesn’t treat me badly,” I said honestly.

“He should treat you like you are his dream girl. Listen, if he doesn’t treat you well, you should walk away. You are worth treating well, and I just wanted you to know that.”

From this man, I received an advice I’ve received many times throughout my life, a reminder I’ve countlessly repeated to myself. I deserve to be treated with love and respect. But it sounded different this time. Somehow it felt more genuine and real.

I walked away that night, not knowing this man’s name, and in all honesty, I don’t think I could even recognize him in a line-up. But I walked away with a renewed faith in the way I believe people should treat their loved ones.

You are my dream girl.

xx

eunice

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