The Baby Seals Slipper Thoughts II

Basil had a blank expression on his face, an expression that only his baby seal slippers were familiar with. It was an indicator that he was done with the world for the next few hours, will probably eventually get drunk and try to start over. But as any experienced baby seal slipper would know at this point already, the only thing that will move on after this night is the person on Basil’s mind.

Basil was sitting on his couch in his living room, which separated it from the kitchen behind him. The room was completely dark, only two enormous squares of light, formed by opened windows to his left, were casting silver shimmers of life into it. Basil was wondering if this was really necessary. On the far right bottom corner of the square which was more distant from the couch, two white adorable slippers were neatly put, judging and observing Basil in silence. At least Basil was silently judging himself as well. He sat on the left seat, with his body fully pressed to the back of it, completely relaxed, his shoulders making a melancholic shape of a setting sun, as if to represent his exhausted hopes. His left hand laid on the arm of the couch, the other one hugged a bottle of rum pressed to his side and it felt like the bottle was snuggling into him. Basil named the bottle Bob, like he used to call everything else that was a temporary substitute for his desired human interaction. Bob understood him, but most importantly, Bob saw Basil as a pirate and not as an alcoholic that he was, and Basil needed such admiration this evening.

The blond man turned his head to the left and looked into the night. It was full moon and its round reflection played on Basil’s tired blue eyes. He inspected the city and the aura of mystery above it, knowing that some of the people out there had it way worse than him, but Basil was too ignorant to be occupied with the pain of the others to even bother to sooth himself with it. He cared, he cared too much about Mila and he wasn’t able to shake it off anymore. More tragically, he refused to.

Basil opened Bob and poured some rum into the glass that he took from the coffee table. Even though he felt down, he wasn’t that depressed to drink straight from the bottle. Every respectable romantic idiot was far from savage. They had class, they had style and craved for someone who would be attracted to them because of such for others invisible features. To be specific, he craved for Mila, he wanted her, he needed her and he failed to capture her once again. Basil threw his head backwards and stared into the white ceiling. He was too deeply involved into his own imagination to cut it off. And it’s not that Mila would plainly cut it off as well. He made the mistake of showing her how much he liked her and now she will drag him around till she will get bored of him. Basil hoped that this time she will get into this little game of hers.

Sunday was a busy day for him this week. He had responsibilities to fulfil, people to talk to, friends to entertain and places to drive to. The whole day was so packed and overwhelming that at 10PM he silently sat down on the kitchen floor in the hopes that no one will find him there for a while and drank a cup of tea, hiding behind the counter. Not the most adult thing he could do. He randomly thought about Mila, as he often did. They haven’t talked since the last meeting, which was months ago, and he still missed her presence in some ways. Like most of the ways. He missed her passion about every little thing and the way her greenish eyes looked at him from beneath her casual sunglasses. It all suddenly filled his little fragile heart and he grabbed his phone. He waited long enough not to talk to her. He gave her space, he gave her time, he tried to get over her, he sincerely did. Basil met some other girls, tried to convince himself that he was into them and faced the same obstacle over and over again - he compared every single girl to Mila. Every single time he hoped that he will meet someone greater and that he will eventually forget about her. His last thoughts weren’t even properly formed, when the message was already send. He stared into the most ridiculous pun that his mind came up with, asking her out. He locked the screen and threw the phone away from him in panic. Once again, not the most adult thing he could do.

He swiftly got up from the floor and pretended that nothing happened. She probably doesn’t even recall his existence anymore. He turned around on his heel and wanted to go back to his friends when his phone made a frightening sound of acknowledgment. He grabbed the phone and stared at its screen. It was her. “Whenwhere” it said. And Basil was ready to die then and there. He looked around in pure horror caused by the success of his idiocrasy, not knowing how to handle it. He didn’t even hope for a proper response, maybe a small recognition, but never an agreement. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. So he set time and place, she immediately texted back and just like this he had a date with Mila. He stared in front of him with the cutest and most foolish smile that he had in a while. And then it disappeared like the sun disappears behind the clouds - he wasn’t sure if this was a date. But then his usual arrogance stepped it and he snapped out of it:

“Friday, 7PM, it’s a date. I don’t know about her, but I am going on a date here.”

Even though Basil didn’t know her long enough, he knew that she was a busy person. So there was a huge chance that she will cancel it. But he put his hopes up and waited patiently for Friday. If this was important to her, she won’t cancel it. This time he tried to stay as down to earth as possible. He was sure that they will have a blast, but that was it. He tried to avoid thinking about her, imagining conversations or even thinking of possible activities for the date. Or at least this was the case on Monday. On Tuesday it hit him that he was indeed going on a date with Mila. Or as he put it in his mind “with THE Mila”. This was a huge deal, his friends made sure to make it crystal clear to him, which wasn’t really helping. So as any other normal human being, he started to analyse the situation and lead himself to some conclusions:

1. She was still or recently became single. Success.

B. Therefore, probablyhopefullyGodpleasehelpmeandforgiveme, it didn’t work out with the man that she was dreaming about for so long.

III. She must think that he was at least worthy of her audience, which was nice. Basil has gone with a lot less during his lifetime.

On an early Wednesday morning he was laying in bed, waiting for the world to catch up with him and thought about Mila. The problem with her was that for him, she was perfect. He didn’t believe in the one perfect woman or man, but he believed in personal perfection and he was sure that he found his. He loved her hobbies, the way her mind worked, her wit and, of course, her looks. He wanted to be with her, to hear her laugh and see her smile and take her everywhere. As any intelligent man would realise, she had her flaws and annoying traits, but that’s what made her perfect for the blond guy - he was ready to go along with her little annoying things just to make it work. Basil wanted to be her personal perfection one day, but a little part of him said to him that it would only be her second prize. It was devastating and heart breaking for others to observe how the realization of rejection and being nothing more than a rock in her eyes hit Basil. He was a crafty man, able of differentiating between attraction and friendly acceptance. It was self-evident, that only a friendly intention was coming from Mila. But Basil, as a proud leader of his Lonely Association of The Romantic Idiots, hoped that this was about to change.

Eventually, it did change. On the exact same day she texted him again announcing that she only had a few hours on Friday and that they could still meet, though. Basil was not surprised, he got disappointed so often and in so many fields so lately. He suggested to reschedule for another time, when she will have time. She said she doesn’t know when she will have time, so Basil sadly agreed on Friday.

Now he was sitting in his silent living room, only Bob and baby seal slippers keeping him company. He took his phone and hid it under the pillows once again. He could quote the last message without even looking at the screen. After her message he sorted things through. Even though he wasn’t her personal perfection or her ideal and even if she was sure that he adored her, it still gave her no right to treat him like a secondary option. He could be the one, treat her like no one has ever before, be there for her like no one managed to be before. He could be perfect for her. If only she would give him a shot. And he understood that he needed this shot just to make sure that she was, indeed, his perfection.

Basil got up from his couch and walked to the nearest window. He stared down into the sleeping neighbourhood and of course at Mila’s house. Her bedroom window was light, so it meant that she still wasn’t sleeping. It took all of the willpower that he had to not to call her. He wanted her so badly, like earth craving for rain after a long drought, a blind man reaching for a hand to guide him or a first date requiring a bad joke to break the ice. And at the same time he was furious with her, about how confident she was. It drove him insane how easily she played with him, probably without even realizing that she was playing with him. Without any sound she was calling him and he didn’t think it was very fair.

He told her that he would prefer to meet her when she will have enough time for him. Maybe too needy, maybe too straightforward, but he stopped caring a while ago. He wanted to be treated like he treated her and he was fed up with her games. He was high value, just as much as she was. The difference was that she was superb in presenting herself. He was superb in absorbing her.

He finished Bob eventually. The lights from the city made his silhouette very clear - his demotivated posture was covered in loose clothes, left hand in his trousers’ pocket, right one holding an empty glass. Basil seemed to be broken, this is what happens when we face people who question our secure personalities on a lonely Friday night. But Basil was too passionate to ignore her and too vivid to neglect his personal life. He will go on as if nothing happened, chasing his dreams and hoping for the best. He looked at Mila as a challenge of sorts. Mila will get in touch with him, when she will be tired of others, when she will be so lonely that even he will pop in her mind. Maybe it will take a week, a month or even a year. But it wasn’t like Basil had a better option than to wait. He smiled at the little house covered with trees, down near the river and said it without even realizing that he was speaking:

“This isn’t over. Not yet.”

His phone buzzed and he jumped to it at instant. It wasn’t Mila, it was Helen, inviting him for a cup of coffee tomorrow. Basil stared at the screen and then at the little house near the river. He didn’t see why he shouldn’t keep himself occupied while his perfection was busy chasing other guys. He will give her more time, as he always did, so he answered Helen while going back to the window. He lightly hit the glass with his forehead and stared into Mila’s room, covered with curtains. Basil let out a sigh, turning away from the view of Mila’s bedroom. It felt as if the two baby seals let out a similar sigh, quietly comforting him from the distance.