The Girl that Haunts my Dreams

It had to be today, didn't it? Today had to be my scheduled blogging day. Perhaps it's fate, perhaps it's coincidence . . . but in all likelihood, I just have to get something off my chest.
I had a dream last night. Now, I'm not the sort to try to understand dreams, or interpret dreams. I don't know if they're visions, mental static or fate; but I didn't need a Dream Dictionary for this one, because there were no symbols or dancing clowns to be interpreted. It was just her. I'm not the sort to reveal names, usually, but then I realized that her name is pretty popular, and you'll never find her if you tried, so I can tell you her name is Nisha.
I had a dream where I packed up my bags, gathered my gear, and went to find her. I finally realized what a fool I had been, waiting this long, and I decided to finally tell her that I was still crazy about her. But before I could, before I left the house on this grand romantic quest . . . I woke up.
The Word of the Day is: 'GIRL'.

Girl /gerl/ n. 1. A female child or young woman. 2. A female servant. 3. Colloquial A sweetheart; girlfriend. 4. Colloquial woman.

I fall in love like you fall in a grave; deep, and with no way out. It's one of the reason's I'm so goddamn insane. The first few times that I fell, it was so intense, I either scared them away, or I scared myself. I don't know how much history I want to share between our little tryst, her and me, but there are the important details and that's one of them. See, she was one of the girls where I scared me, not her, and I never had the guts to ask her out the first time.
Then the next time she was a part of my life, I finally did, but it turned out, she had a boyfriend.
Now please, don't judge me yet. You don't have all the facts. No, I didn't do anything untoward or 'out of bounds'. I'm a gentleman, my dad raised me that way. I pretty much walked away from that one.

Then later, almost two years ago now, she became a part of my life again. I was stoked, and she told me that her original relationship had ended. It had, apparently, not been the best coupling. So we started to kinda 'go out' again, until, about half-way through, she again told me that she had a boyfriend.
But the weird thing is, this time, I didn't walk away . . .
You see, I'd really gotten to know her, and I started to learn about this guy. I never met him, but he sounded like such a dweeb. Now I know, the other man, of course I was bound to hate him. But that's not all. For me, the entire thing was so transparent.

The poor girl had loved that guy, the first boyfriend, only to realize that he was using her for money, and not much else. She'd been a party girl, and still had that streak in her, so obviously this guy was one of those 'party by night, sleep on the couch while you pretend to look for a job by day' lazy arseholes. Then he'd left her, and she had to pick herself back onto her feet, and so she'd fallen for this new dweeb, because she knew he was too desperate to treat her wrong. He was a safe choice. You might now ask:
  "If you never met him, how come you know he was a dweeb?"
Well, it's obvious. Two reasons: Number one, she always spoke about him the same way you talk about a brother. I would describe him most generously, as 'harmless'. Number two, she was going out with me, what more do you need?
Like before, I was a gentleman, I never did anything untoward . . . for the most part. Except once. That's what split us up the second time. I told her that she could do better, and with no mixed words, I told her that I was the better man.

I don't know if she was conflicted, scared, confused, or perhaps insulted that I had the audacity to want to break up someone's relationship for my own . . . somewhat selfish ends. I mean, I don't really think it was selfish. There have been other girls that I have crushed on that have fallen for other men before I spoke up, and I leave them alone if I can see the guy will treat them right.
It hurts . . . a lot . . . but I told you, I was raised a gentleman. I backed away. But I could see a future with Nisha and me, when we went out, there was  chemistry, there was more than friendship between us.
At least, I think there was . . .

That's the thing, it was a while ago now. I tried to move on, and after a month or so, I managed to stop thinking about her all the time. It was driving me crazy. Surely there are others out there, who have had failed relationships, and when you look back you start to wonder if it was all true, or if some of it was in your head. I mean, something as wonderful as that. Someone as beautiful as her, dating someone like me? It couldn't be real, right?
So yeah, I managed to stop thinking about her, and driving myself mad with these questions; but every now and then, I have these dreams. Every two months or so, I'll dream about her. They're not all the same, sometimes I'm with her, sometimes I'm saving her, sometimes I'm chasing her. The only true consistency is that it's never a nightmare. There's always hope.

Until I wake up.

Sort of makes it seem like this is the nightmare. The one where she left me, and I was powerless to stop her. But, dear (and probably now a little confronted) reader, why am I writing about all this now? Why now? Was there some point to all of this?
Well, I was trying to figure it out, and the answer is so simple. Last night, I saw this strange girl. No! Don't judge me, you don't have all the facts. No, she wasn't a girlfriend, she wasn't a lover, I didn't even know her.
No, actually, she was very drunk.

She was on the train, in the 'Quiet Carriage', where you're supposed to be quiet so people can read. I was reading an Agatha Christie anthology novella ["Mr. Parker Pine, Detective" if you must know] when she dropped into the seat opposite me. She picked up a newspaper, and asked for a pen. I always carry about three pens on me (One to Lose, One to Lend & One just in case), but she was very drunk. I figured she needed a distraction. So I gave her a pen to amuse herself. She attempted, sadly, for about 15 seconds to do the crossword. Then gave up and asked for a phone, to call her friends and find out where they are, so she could meet them.
I told her my phone didn't have any credit. It was a lie, but I told it for a few reasons. Firstly, I knew that she was too drunk for any phone conversation to be meaningful. Second, she didn't need to call her friends because in her drunken ramblings she mentioned that she left her friends back in the city; whether she left them, or they left her, I knew that the best place for her was to go home. Thirdly, I was about 15 stops away from my station. I figured if I could talk to her, not only would I get some entertainment, (drunks are really funny if you know how to wrangle them, and I've had some experience) but I also thought I might give the other 'Quiet Carriage' passengers a little peace.

But then some other guy, poor fool, tried to be nice and offered her his phone.
Then I got to sit there chuckling as they tried and failed to dial the phone, and she ended up dialling the same guy three times, and screaming into the phone. He'd sit there, dial the number, then watch helplessly as she took it from his hand and slurred at her friend. It was as funny as it was tragic.

Then, after dialling a few other numbers, and failing to make any progress, he was asking her if she had somewhere to go. And while she was going on about going to her sister's place, she started asking him:
  "Should I leave my boyfriend?"

I watched the poor guy stammer and go "I dunno, it's not my place to say." and I guess that's what started this whole mess. That's what got my mind racing, and what got me dreaming about Nisha again.
Because when he said that, in my mind I said "No. Wrong answer."
This girl was drunk, and was obviously one to keep in the company of drunks. But even more than that, she asked the question. Girls in good relationships don't ask people if they should leave their boyfriends. The correct answer wasn't I dunno. The correct answer was:
  "If you're asking that question, it's because you already know the answer. You just want to me say it for you. Yes, leave him."

But of course, I didn't say that. She was drunk, and probably wouldn't remember, but also, she wasn't asking the question at me. In this instance, answering someone else's question would not be appropriate. Also, I was arriving at my stop, and I had to leave. I didn't have time for whatever fallout that kind of statement would create. So I left.
Yet, ever since that brief encounter, I've been thinking about what that means. Girls in good relationships don't ask that kind of thing. I guess, also, girls in good relationships don't go out with other guys. Not like we did . . .

Maybe I'm just grasping at smoke, chasing my tail and hunting snipe for a chance at understanding the chaos that is my heart. This broken mess wrapped in electrical tape and jerry-rigged to keep on ticking, until the next heartbreak. Hell, maybe I'm writing this in the hopes that she'll read it, and realize that I'm still crazy about her, and always have been ever since I saw her. Maybe it means something, but I doubt it.

I guess, when all's said and done, all I'm really saying is that even an Absurd Word Nerd doesn't understand girls . . .