Looks and Love Essay -- Personal Narrative Writing

Looks and Love Before I left home for college, my group of friends and I sat down for one last serious heart-to-heart. Sometime during our conversation, the question of college choice arose. Emotions escalated as we realized how far apart we would be in a short time. "Why did you choose to go to MIT?" they asked, "Why couldn't you just stay home at a state university?" Wanting to lighten the mood, I replied, laughing, "That's an easy one...the guys, of course!" And after the initial uproar of laughter died down and the comments about geeks and scrawny computer nerds subsided, I said, "I'm serious." I was. Where else would I find an intelligent and genuine guy who would be mature enough for me? When I arrived in Massachusetts and classes finally started, so did my "man mission." Most of the men I met blew the boys back home out of the water, and one lucky day, I peered past my twirling pink pen and found Him. The more I learned about Him, the more enamored I became. Yet I, a usually outgoing and assertive young woman, felt uncomfortable approaching this wonderful person in that more-than-a-friend kind of way. The worst part about the situation was that I knew exactly where my uneasiness was coming from. Unlike the guys at home, where seventy percent of the young male population had black hair and dark brown eyes, this guy was blonde and fair-skinned, a stark contrast not only to the male population back home, but to me. I am not a racist person, but the petty idea that this guy did not share like features with me, hindered me from appreciating what we did share and made me more aware of the differences between us. So where then, did this silly idea of single race relationships come from? Why did He an... ...zines remind me that this relationship would not be the most socially accepted or ordinary thing to do. But it is ordinary. I know I've fallen for this guy because of his humor and quirkiness, his intelligence, his kindness, and his character, things that I should be looking for. So now, I sit here in my baggy calf-length skater shorts and bright orange hooded sweatshirt and stare across the seats, focusing on his neatly ironed khakis and dark blue dress shirt, and think that our hypothetical relationship would die quickly. I'm still that closed-lipped girl from the beginning of the story when it comes to my feelings because I don't want to be rejected, and for some reason I feel like we might not be right for each other, even though I know we are. And it depresses me that somehow, our ad-driven society is probably convincing him of that same exact thing.