His name was David. He and I never had a real conversation. Dave, as I may call him from time to time, knows nothing of my writings or my blog. He doesn’t know where I live or what I’m studying. We’re not friends – we’re really not even exactly proper acquaintances, but let me tell you about David.
His six-foot frame seemed bigger in August than it does now in December. He’s slowly falling into himself – his shoulders roll forward another fraction of an inch and his head hangs lower as the days pass. His tousled brown hair always starts out messy on Mondays and gradually becomes more tame as each week wears on. His eyes, though…they never change. I don’t have a good way to describe them other than blue. I mean, not quite Misha Collins blue, but definitely not far from it.
He reminded me so much of someone else; someone I met recently. This other man, this lookalike, had me falling in love from the first words we shared. His voice melted me. His piercing blue eyes were practically identical to David’s. That love never really stood a chance though, so now I have this man at home to remind me of the sweetheart I met in Ohio.
Dave’s voice didn’t match his looks. It was the voice of a man, but there was still a more detectable trace of youth in it. Like myself, he never seemed one for rambling conversations. Silence was never uncomfortable between us, and there was a lot of it, but it always made me happy to hear him fill the air between us with his soft but thick voice. I don’t have any proof of it, but I imagine he wouldn’t be a bad singer.
His wardrobe lacked a middle ground. Much of the time, he would walk in at the last minute, dressed in an old lacrosse t-shirt and basketball shorts or, more recently, sweatpants. A time or two, he arrived in red plaid pajama pants. I laugh now because it reminded me of Christmas at the time, and now Christmas is so close. But when he wasn’t in his best lounge attire, David seemed to have taken a liking to a variation of the “frat star” look. Pastel shorts and Sperry boat shoes. Light-colored button-downs accented with bow ties. A lot of people might assume that made him look or seem older, but I’ll always disagree. I remind you that I barely know this man, but to me, he seemed most himself and most mature in those plaid pants before a razor found its way to his face.
I’ve gathered a handful of other facts about this familiar stranger over a confusing fall and early winter, but I wouldn’t say I know him. I’ve learned where he’s from and what he’s studying to be. I noticed how messy his signature is. I know that he’s older than I am and that he has a dog at home. But those are simple facts that he would probably reveal to any friendly acquaintance. Most of what I know about David, I’ve learned through simple observation.
As the semester comes to a close, I realize that I likely won’t be seeing Dave much anymore. It’s some kind of bittersweet. Like I said, he and I aren’t close. In all honestly, I doubt I’ll cross his mind again beyond next week, but I’ve loved having him sit in the desk beside me every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. He’ll always be that guy I kinda wish I’d gotten to know a little better.