I was looking at your timeline yesterday. It said you were at a party. You do that a lot – tweeting at parties. I used to think it meant you weren’t really having that much fun. If you were, you’d be talking and drinking and dancing – not tweeting. I know the people that were at the party with you – because you all said so on Foursquare. So I sat in my living room, watching you, feeling like I was there with you.
Then you went quiet. I looked at the other people at the party, and they were quiet too. For three or four hours, there wasn’t a single tweet from any of you. That’s when I knew you were really having fun, and I was glad. But a part of me was sad, because I wished that I was having fun with you.
I’m not the kind of girl you usually notice. I see them on your timeline every day, giggling, flirting, posting cheeky twitpics and clever quotes. The kind of girl you like is at the party with you. She knows she drives #TeamMafisi wild, and she isn’t shy about it. And that just isn’t me. I’m not bad-looking, but I lack self-possession, poise, grace, style, photogeny. No, it’s not a real word. Also, I have a cartoon as my avatar, and a twitter bigwig wouldn’t be caught with a girl like that.
Last night, while you were at your party, I was at home with my baby. We were watching Nickelodeon. There was a marathon of Victorious. We really like that show. When it was finished, we watched Pitch Perfect, and Glee, and Big Bang Theory. Then we went online and sang along to songs from Lemonade Mouth and Tori Vega.
Our favourite is Song 2 You. It’s a sweetly, silly, romantic kind of song, full of unicorns and butterflies and teenage love. I’m sure it was composed in comic sans. My heart flutters every time I hear it. because that’s the kind of girl that I am. I don’t like parties, or smoking, or drinking, or dancing. Well, I do like dancing, but mostly at home, and mostly for aerobics. Sometimes I dance with my baby in the kitchen, and we jump around and giggle at how silly we look. Well, at how silly I look, because my baby is a really good dancer.
I don’t like shisha, or vodka, or weed cake, or coffee, or chilli. I don’t do blankets, or wine, or trance, or John Legend. I don’t read Terry Pratchet or the Economist. I don’t get Warsan Shire or spoken word. I feel nothing for Erykah Badu. I don’t even understand Afro-fusion. I do like books though, and series, and loud rock music, and happy quiet spaces, and twitter. I like the beach and the pool and the ocean. And I love crime shows and documentaries. But that’s not the kind of girl you like. The girl you like is effortlessly beautiful, limitlessly flirty, and always entertaining.
She’s a bikini kind of a girl while I wear a modest skirted one-piece. She’s alluring and mysterious, and she likes to keep you dangling. She reads Harlequinn or Ben Okri, she likes Twilight and sports. Her avi is always tastefully alluring, and her blog has at least one bi-curious story. She plays you like a flute, and you love every moment. I feel a little awkward when I look at you together. I see the way you look at her, the way everyone looks at her, and I feel a little sad, because you’re never going to look at me that way.
Of course I would never say any of this out loud. If I had you in the same room with me, I’d probably talk about the weather, and music, and TV. I never have conversations like this is person. It makes me wonder if I’ll have a virtual marriage, if my husband will be my penpal, if I’ll kiss him goodbye every morning then send him soul-filled emails at work. But things like that only happen in Fifty Shades of Grey.
Still, that’s the kind of girl I am, the kind that expresses herself better on a notepad or a keyboard. I can’t say witty things like those other girls you like, but I can write them, and I know that sometimes, a man can fall in love with what I write. So I hide behind this screen, safe in the blanket of my words.
Sometimes that hurts a little, but most times it’s okay. Most times, I sit back, watch you, and smile, because I know that someday, sometime, someone will have a twitter crush on me. They’ll think I’m wonderful and awesome, just the way I am. And maybe one day, they’ll call me up and tell me.
♫ Song 2 You ♫ Leon Thomas III ♫