l| 1. | Chemistry. a substance that causes or accelerates a chemical reaction without itself being affected. |
| 2. | something that causes activity between two or more persons or forces without itself being affected. |
| 3. | a person or thing that precipitates an event or change: His imprisonment by the government served as the catalyst that helped transform social unrest into revolution. |
| 4. | a person whose talk, enthusiasm, or energy causes others to be more friendly, enthusiastic, or energetic. |
I began this summer with a new on-campus job, one that would require about two months of training before Brock (my trainer and guy I was replacing) could leave and rest assured that his position was fully taken care of.
Over the course of these two months I realized I would be replacing a popular employee, one who was known among the faculty, staff, and graduate students alike. Did I have a void to fill? Yes indeed, as Brock happened to be the resident party-er, funny guy, ladies' man, and drinking buddy to all folks on the same floor under the age of 30. Only there was a problem:
I, despite living in the land of the free and home of the brave, do not have the same type of social life you my reader may be accustomed to. What exists of my social life are a couple of friends who use me to as a study partner and the occasional "girls night" watching Grey's Anatomy, as well as "family friends" who are my age and only exist in my life because our families share the same religious and cultural background., Never once have I walked into a club, never once have I walked into a bar. I still live with my authoritative parents. Silenced by my family, by my culture, by my peers and by myself.
...and all that should not be a problem, I'm my own individual. After all, and I'm taking Brock's job, not his life. It would've been all swell and dandy, Until Andrew walked in...
Andrew was both easy and difficult on the eye. Easy on the eye due to his handsome, welcoming face, ocean-blue eyes, broad shoulders and wide chest (that, depending on his shirt, would showcase some hair), a torso that curved at the lower back into a an ample bottom and strong man legs. He was hard on the eye much for the same reasons he was easy on the eyes, it was difficult to decide what to look at and admire the most in him.
Andrew would experience the biggest loss since Brock was his compadre. They spoke about the previous drunken night, unattractive girls who kept calling them, extremely attractive girls they wanted to call, motorcycle problems, etc. I was acknowledged, and made myself appear aloof and unsociable, as I had decided I would not interact with Andrew once Brock left. One-sided admiration, one-sided longing, one-sided sexual tension...these were things that needed to be avoided and prevented.
Brock left, Andrew disappeared except for the occasional hello in the hallway. I spent a month just with the same routine. Wake up. Go to work. Go to the gym. Go home. Watch a movie. Sleep. Eating and thinking to myself and pseudo-family interaction wedged in between. (No social life, no pool parties, no road trips.) Until Andrew walked in...
Standing by the door, with a coffee mug in in one hand, just randomly appearing to say "hey". In my shock/horror/excitement/awe I had no reply, however he followed this up with "how's it going?". And so our conversation went, at times awkward because we were really only acquaintances, other times with nervous laughing (probably on my part). We somehow went from his recent trip to Wisconsin (boring) to his work-out diet. Why is he here speaking to me? Does he pity me? Does he sincerely want to be friends? Is he just bored and have nothing to do?
We somehow ended the conversation after we were both interrupted simultaneously by two employees. His final words to me were "we should work-out sometime!", and then he quickly left.
Every war needs a catalyst. Today, Andrew was just mine. He is the reason I'm writing this, silent for so long, it was only the surge of excitement that happened in me after his invitation when I realized that I have no one to talk to about this. Nobody to tell about this sweet guy who not only stopped by to talk to me, but also wanted to spend some time outside of the work place. To everyone, I'm just that funny Arabic guy, a goodie-goodie, the mama's boy, not the one who has thoughts and feelings and pains, the one who wants to to regurgitate all that has been cooped up inside him, the one who gets excited when he is acknowledged by a person he admires mentally, physically, or emotionally.
No, Andrew didn't take me into his arms and make love to me. No we didn't ride on his motorcycle into the sunset. No this is not some coming-of-age romance in the works.
But yes, it is something worth talking about for me. I want to speak, I want to yell, I want to tell everyone about not only this, but all my other experiences, from my previous encounters with the male kind to entities responsible for making life so unlivable. You can consider this a deep inner-monologue, or "Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen" en blogue, either way, at least I know this is out there for you to read. In person, I am more light-hearted than what I may appear in writing, however, in person, I'm not allowed to show the full spectrum that is me.
A friend once consoled me with the words every cloud has a silver lining. Silver can get tarnished...
