I am fond of intriguing people, the ones who are moody and eccentric. I notice the little flicker of hope in their averted gaze, or how they wander with a purpose no one seems to know. Shy, mysterious people, who rarely smile, but when they laugh, the whole room reverberates with freedom. In the moments when I catch them thinking, so focused and enigmatic and oh, so unconventionally beautiful, I fall in love with them, not in literary sense, but how you feel when you unearth a missing puzzle piece.
Truth usually makes no sense. If your desire is for everything to make perfect sense, then you should take refuge in fiction. In fiction, all threads tie together in a neat bow and everything moves smoothly from one point to the next to the next. In real life, though… nothing makes sense. Bad things happen to good people. The pious die young while the wicked live until old age. War, famine, pestilence, death all occur randomly and senselessly and leave us more often than not scratching our heads and hurling the question ‘why?’ into a void that provides no answers.
Before you say yes, get him angry. See him scared, see him wanting, see him sick. Stress changes a person. Find out if he drinks and if he does, get him drunk - you’ll learn more about his sober thoughts. Discover his addictions. See if he puts you in front of them. You can’t change people, baby girl. If they are made one way, it doesn’t just wear off. If you hate how he acts when he’s out of it now, you’re going to hate it much worse eight years down the road. You might love him to bits but it doesn’t change that some people just don’t fit.