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Before I outgrew my shallow perspective at the very mature age of ten and three quarters, I used to think it mattered how my hair looked, if my designer jeans still had every stitch in place, or if the padding in my new Versace bikini top was rippless. Who could blame me? After all, that is how I was raised, to be seemingly perfect and hold myself together like a broken vase. To my father and mother if I wasn’t perfect, I wasn’t worthy to be a part of the family dynasty. All I had to do now was push through two more days of this small, meaningless beach town and then I’d finally be in an oversized Sublime t-shirt and sweat pants alone in my room away from cameras and judging stares as I should be.

As I looked out over the gorgeous ocean sunset I couldn’t help feeling like the single sailboat out on the water in front of me, lonely and isolated. It’s hard to find a guy who lives up to my parents expectations; in fact they were trying to set me up again tomorrow morning with another egotistical, materialistic pride driven jerk who I’ll never have respect for. I really don’t understand why they have to make things so hard on me; you can’t force a girl to love a guy who she very obviously doesn’t belong with. Usually it’s some pompous high school quarter back with an ego taller than the stadium bleachers. I will make it very clear; I am NOT nor ever will be the “head cheerleader” type. Those girls may look perfect on the outside, kind of like the way I have no choice but to be perceived, but they are all the epitome of insecure and define themselves through their position. I could go on and on about the popular clichés and the hatred I have for them due to the fact I was a part of them too and always had been, when it really comes down to it in high school there’s three groups, the popular kids, the kids who want to be popular and think they’re better than everyone else, and the losers I guess you could say. However the people from school were the last thing on my mind, I was far away in a foreign country, well if you consider Mexico a foreign country and sleep was slowly consuming me as the moon reflected over the black rhythmic water.

Ever though I’m not exactly thrilled to be here, I have to admit it’s a beautiful town, Cabo San Lucas, there’s a little grocery store I walk to every morning mostly to escape my parents and people who know my name. The sweet old woman who works the counter always repeats this phrase to me, “eres muy hermosa, como una muñeca que tenía cuando era una niña. ¿Has conocido a mi Eyan nieto?” and then points to a guy who always has his back turned to me. I’m sure it’s either some kind of horrible insult or a greeting but either way she says it with a huge smile on her face. The only thing I can think of as I walk back to the hotel is that I have to waste an hour of my life on a sleaze bag with no value to me. Dragging my feet, I slowly entered the tiny restaurant off the beach, sat down at a table and looked at the colorful clock on the wall. Of course he was ten minutes late, typical. I already hate him. Finally after two strawberry daiquiris Kyle strutted in flaunting his Armani suit and Oakley sunglasses, also very typical. When his eyes met mine he gave me that “another girl to cross off my list” look, and I returned his smug smile with a look of disgust. Shocked, he took his seat across from me and tried to start some small talk, which doesn’t surprise me either; boys like him tend to think girls are naive and stupid. To every question I gave a sarcastic answer, I could tell he was getting irritated but at the same time he was taking my offensive tone as a challenge. “Aren’t you a charmer Nirvana?” he said playfully. With a half-smile I replied, “To charm you have to have interest in the subject.” I eventually angered him to the point where he faked a phone call and had an “emergency meeting” to attend too. My bad, did I just purposely ruin another date?

I couldn’t help but laugh a little too loudly as I walked leisurely down the water’s edge. The water was crystal blue, holding diamonds like a jewelry store case. I couldn’t wait to go swimming, which I actually could do today. Because my date got tragically cut short, I had time to myself starting with the new boogie board I strategically place near my reserved gazebo on the beach. After confidently sitting up on my board and riding the waves, I decided I could probably stand up on the board like a surfer if I attached the strap that should reside on your wrist to my ankle. Everything was going really well until massive wave came and pulled me under faster than I was expecting. Frightened, I very unattractively flailed my arms and legs upward to the surface only to hit my head with full force on the board directly above me. From then everything was so relaxed and calm, like I was built into the ocean floor, moving back and forth with the waves. For the first time in my life I was actually completely alone, the feeling was so empty and sad I almost didn’t know if it was worth it to figure out which direction lead to oxygen. Suddenly I was thrust towards the surface by strength that wasn’t my own. I found myself face to face with the most beautifully deep brown eyes I had ever seen. His face was fixed into the same surprised expression as mine; in fact he was so startled he almost dropped me. Pride is metaphorically punched in the face when embarrassment takes its place. This was the first flawed first impression I had ever made, and if I could go back ten seconds to redo it, I would keep it the same. To this guy I wasn’t a hollow pretty shell of myself, I was the real Nirvana, and surprisingly he didn’t seem to mind at all. He gave me the same half-smile I naturally have on my face and asked me if I was okay as he carried us up to shore. Talking turned to laughing as he walked me to my hotel room. It took me a few minutes to realize how comfortable I was with him; I didn’t even have to try to find a hidden reason behind his words. I could tell they were genuine. It’s funny how you can meet someone and something just feels so right about them that you find yourself perfectly content with where you are.
Standing in front of my hotel room, he embarrassedly asked what my name was and apologized for not asking before. “Nirvana” I said shyly, “Well it was definitely something to meet you Nirvana, my names Eyan.” He said whispering, almost like no one was supposed to hear our conversation. We agreed to meet later that night at the bonfire on the beach. As he walked away, I realized I had just met the only person who may be as or more different than I am, and I surprisingly couldn’t wait to see him again. I had butterflies as I walked through the sand looking for Eyan. As he promised he was waiting for me, sparkler in hand, he gave me a huge hug I wasn’t expecting, and to my surprise I embraced him back. I could feel myself letting him in with every conversation we had that night. I told him everything that came into my head and he told me about his life story and before the night burnt out like all the sparklers that lit up the beach we had our first kiss. It was then something inside me clicked and from the look in his eyes he felt it too, all I wanted was him closer. Like he read my mind that’s exactly what he did, pulled me close, even as we went separate ways I felt the closeness, something I’d never felt before. Ironically when you don’t force people to be with each other, the two perfect people fall together perfectly.





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