“Hi, Landon,” I whispered, for a brief moment talking to the boy inside, not the man in front of me.
This Landon was the polar opposite of the Ivy League yuppie image previously in my head. The only thing the man pictured might have majored in was badassery. He looked like a rockstar, a rule breaker, displaying a sense of arousing danger—someone who must have had women from all walks of life drooling over him for the sheer fact that either they couldn’t have him or shouldn’t have him. It suddenly became clear why, as he’d alluded to, a woman might have been begging him for sex. That made me wonder if he had any secret tattoos in spots I wasn’t allowed to see.
God.
A fire was burning inside of me, and I knew it was my crush exploding into a full-blown obsession.
A self-conscious feeling came over me. If I was scared to show him a picture of myself before, now I was really hesitant.
The message that went along with the photo simply read:
Now show me you.
THE VOICE INSIDE MY ASS
I had completely chickened out.
Two days passed, and I never responded to Landon’s photo text. He hadn’t called or messaged me again, either.
This whole thing had ventured into territory I wasn’t prepared for. His wanting to see me felt intrusive, and I had to put a stop to it.
I never expected Landon to want to continue communicating with me after my initial call, and I certainly never expected that seeing what he actually looked like now would have had this kind of an effect on me.
I was afraid to even look at the photo, because I didn’t like the physical feelings that went along with that.
I didn’t want to have to face my attraction to him, this boy—man—who had hurt me once.
Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.
As much as I avoided looking at the picture, the image was still etched into my brain.
As I twirled around during my nightly dance routines, shaking my hips to the beat of the drum, I would close my eyes and see him standing there on the beach. I was dancing for him. Every night. And that really sucked.
On the third night post-selfie, he finally reached out to acknowledge my lack of response.
Landon: You’re giving me a complex.
He couldn’t have been serious. Surely, he realized how physically attractive he was. But what if he really did think I stopped communicating with him because of how he looked? After all, he wasn’t classically handsome; he was covered in ink and rugged. Maybe he thought I wasn’t into that? He couldn’t have been more wrong. In fact, I was terrified of what looking at him did to me. By the same token, I didn’t want to admit to him that my apprehension had everything to do with me, not him. It was too complicated to explain why I was afraid to show him what I looked like.
As much as I didn’t want this thing with him going any further, I couldn’t live with the thought that he somehow believed I’d stopped communicating with him because of his appearance.
So, I decided to send him one last text—just to clarify.
Rana: Honestly, you have no reason to feel self-conscious. You have grown into a beautiful man, Landon. I just cannot reciprocate with a photo as you requested.
About thirty seconds after I hit send, my phone rang.
Shit.
I answered, “Hello…”
“Did I freak you out or something? You don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to.”
“It’s nothing you did. I just have a lot of issues about my physical appearance. It’s my problem.”
“I don’t get it. You shake your ass around in public for a living.”
Yeah…but they didn’t know me before like you did.
“It’s complicated.”
“Alright, you know what? Please, forget I sent the picture. It created way more trouble than I anticipated.”
I can’t forget it. I can’t forget what you look like now that I’ve seen you.
We were both silent until he said, “Don’t stop talking to me, Rana.” His sincere tone squeezed at my heart.
“Why is it so important to you?”
“I can’t figure it out. You make me feel grounded or something. I don’t know. Talking to you has been like a little slice of home, or at least what I once thought of as home. But I apparently crossed the line in pushing you for a photo, and I’m sorry.”
I could feel myself starting to tear up. “God, don’t be. It’s my fault, Landon. I overreacted. I’m so flawed.”
“Yeah, well, so are some of the most beautiful diamonds. There’s nothing wrong with having flaws. They’re what make us human.”
Bending my head back, I took a deep breath and let his words sink in. Somehow, I knew I would never forget them as long as I lived. As I wiped my eyes, I sniffled. “It looks really beautiful where you live.”