I don't know where to begin. My mind is in complete chaos.
What girl would like a man who is dull, can't talk, doesn't understand humor, and knows nothing about romance?
What girl would like a man who doesn't know how to show concern, and doesn't know how to cheer her up?
Unfortunately, I am exactly that kind of man.
Of course, that also means no girl would like me.
＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝
Just because no girl would like me doesn't mean I never liked any girl.
I often think, at that age, did we really know what liking was, and what love was?
In the blink of an eye, my nephew is already in his third year of high school. That boy who is enjoying the flower season of youth—has he ever faced this kind of secret happiness? I can't guess. This is the sort of thing no one would ever voluntarily confess. Maybe yes, maybe no. Who knows? But one thing I do know: at that time, I had.
That was a few years earlier, when I was in the third year of junior high. Looking back, it feels like something so close, but in fact it is something very far away. I often think, was that really me? Did I really have such an experience? That little boy, so small, so short, seeming to understand nothing at all—would he really have had feelings like that? In fact, it really did happen. But that truly was an age when we understood nothing at all.
She dressed very simply, sometimes you could even say plainly, but within that plainness there was naturally a kind of beauty. The colors of her clothes matched very well. Although I knew absolutely nothing about that, and even now I'm still color-blind, when I looked at her, I felt that no matter what she wore, it looked good. Sometimes she dressed brightly and charmingly, just like a little princess. No matter how she dressed, she was pretty. Whether she really was that pretty, or whether it was just that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I really can't say. When I was a sophomore in college, I went back to my old school once, and felt that all I saw were country bumpkins—not a single girl who knew how to dress up. I was terribly disappointed. If that was the level when I was already a sophomore, then going back another six or seven years to our time, who knows how rustic we must have been.
Let me think about exactly what it was that attracted me.
First, I thought she looked good. I can't say she was beautiful, because to me, beautiful means the kind that makes your eyes light up at first sight. The kind that just looks very comfortable can only be called good-looking. Above average, I guess.
Second, her grades were pretty good. About on par with mine. Hehe. How innocent that was—what does good or bad grades have to do with whether you like someone? Dizzy. Actually it wasn't really about her grades. If we're talking about good grades, there were girls whose grades were even better than hers. Besides, no matter how good they were, could they be better than mine? I hadn't even seriously competed with her yet.
Third is... no matter how you guess, you won't guess this one. I liked that she could do housework. By housework, I mean washing clothes, sweeping the floor, cooking, things like that. It made me feel she was very independent. I grew up living like a young master, the kind who opens his mouth when food is brought and stretches out his hand when clothes are brought. Seeing that she, younger than me, could do these things herself, I really felt that was admirable.
And I never dared say anything to her. Puppy love was not a good thing. It wouldn't matter so much if it only affected me, but if it made her feel troubled, that would be the worst.
At that time, every day I hoped it would rain.
And not just any rain, but the kind that came all of a sudden.
The sort where the weather was still fine on the way to school, but by the time school was over and it was time to go home, it started raining.
I kept a small folding umbrella in my desk.
Only at times like that would I have a chance to show a little courtesy.
The only thing I could do was give her an umbrella when it rained.
What girl would like a man who is dull, can't talk, doesn't understand humor, and knows nothing about romance?
What girl would like a man who doesn't know how to show concern, and doesn't know how to cheer her up?
Unfortunately, I am exactly that kind of man.
Of course, that also means no girl would like me.
＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝
Just because no girl would like me doesn't mean I never liked any girl.
I often think, at that age, did we really know what liking was, and what love was?
In the blink of an eye, my nephew is already in his third year of high school. That boy who is enjoying the flower season of youth—has he ever faced this kind of secret happiness? I can't guess. This is the sort of thing no one would ever voluntarily confess. Maybe yes, maybe no. Who knows? But one thing I do know: at that time, I had.
That was a few years earlier, when I was in the third year of junior high. Looking back, it feels like something so close, but in fact it is something very far away. I often think, was that really me? Did I really have such an experience? That little boy, so small, so short, seeming to understand nothing at all—would he really have had feelings like that? In fact, it really did happen. But that truly was an age when we understood nothing at all.
She dressed very simply, sometimes you could even say plainly, but within that plainness there was naturally a kind of beauty. The colors of her clothes matched very well. Although I knew absolutely nothing about that, and even now I'm still color-blind, when I looked at her, I felt that no matter what she wore, it looked good. Sometimes she dressed brightly and charmingly, just like a little princess. No matter how she dressed, she was pretty. Whether she really was that pretty, or whether it was just that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I really can't say. When I was a sophomore in college, I went back to my old school once, and felt that all I saw were country bumpkins—not a single girl who knew how to dress up. I was terribly disappointed. If that was the level when I was already a sophomore, then going back another six or seven years to our time, who knows how rustic we must have been.
Let me think about exactly what it was that attracted me.
First, I thought she looked good. I can't say she was beautiful, because to me, beautiful means the kind that makes your eyes light up at first sight. The kind that just looks very comfortable can only be called good-looking. Above average, I guess.
Second, her grades were pretty good. About on par with mine. Hehe. How innocent that was—what does good or bad grades have to do with whether you like someone? Dizzy. Actually it wasn't really about her grades. If we're talking about good grades, there were girls whose grades were even better than hers. Besides, no matter how good they were, could they be better than mine? I hadn't even seriously competed with her yet.
Third is... no matter how you guess, you won't guess this one. I liked that she could do housework. By housework, I mean washing clothes, sweeping the floor, cooking, things like that. It made me feel she was very independent. I grew up living like a young master, the kind who opens his mouth when food is brought and stretches out his hand when clothes are brought. Seeing that she, younger than me, could do these things herself, I really felt that was admirable.
And I never dared say anything to her. Puppy love was not a good thing. It wouldn't matter so much if it only affected me, but if it made her feel troubled, that would be the worst.
At that time, every day I hoped it would rain.
And not just any rain, but the kind that came all of a sudden.
The sort where the weather was still fine on the way to school, but by the time school was over and it was time to go home, it started raining.
I kept a small folding umbrella in my desk.
Only at times like that would I have a chance to show a little courtesy.
The only thing I could do was give her an umbrella when it rained.
================================= kickout
大功告成，打个Kiss!
大功告成，打个Kiss!
