Lizzie sat down in the window seat of row 14 on her flight from Manhattan to Amsterdam. She had spent the Thanksgiving holiday with family and was returning home, to her new home, following a series of unfortunate events that led her to a place somewhere between misery and defeat. She was coming out of it though; in fact, she was very proud of herself in that moment. You see, Lizzie was very romantic. She loved love! Who doesn't? She would say to that. Plenty.
Despite her obsession with love and all that it offers, she had recently made a decision against it. Okay, the decision was made for her; basically, but she was finally getting on board! And she decided it was worth being proud over. She had a forbidden love, you see. One that would absolutely freaking blow your mind; it blew hers! There was little out there that could blow her mind and this did it! She was head over heels in love. The kind of love you know you'll be in for the rest of your life. This was the impression she was under at the time. Still, she holds this impression today.
Lizzie knew that the long flight would be riddled with what she imagined would be the fight between distracting herself and facing her emotions. Distractions, emotions; which would she choose? She popped her headphones in and stared out the window of the plane. The song she wanted to listen to wasn't downloaded in her library - damn technology being weird and difficult! Frustrated, she took her headphones out and turned toward the aisle.
Lizzie got excited. Which immediately turned into frustration. Why, universe? All she wanted to do was cry. Sleep, cry, sleep, cry. That was the plan. There wasn't meant to be anyone sitting next to her; although the aisle seat was taken. It was occupied right now! She was looking right at the person sitting there! And she was shocked. Which caused her frustration. She would be avoiding this person. She needed to cry! She didn't have time for this. He was so incredibly good looking though...
The flight attendant came by then offering beverages while speaking in Dutch. Mystery Boy in the aisle seat responded in Dutch. It was Lizzie's turn now and she was ready to disappoint everyone with her, "English, please?" request. She was blonde-haired and blue-eyed so everyone in The Netherlands assumed she was Dutch upon sight. She was pretty tall too! Dutch people were so tall.
"Sorry, could you repeat that in English, please?" Lizzie said with a smile.
"Would you like something to drink, Miss?" the flight attendant repeated.
"A red wine would be nice, thank you!" Lizzie responded as the attendant got her drink ready.
Lizzie noticed then that Mystery Dutch Boy had also ordered a red wine, how cute! Instinctively, she turned to him and raised her glass while at the same time he said, "Cheers!" this made them both giggle.
"Thank goodness you did that, I always feel the need to 'cheers' someone whenever I pour my first drink," she said to Mystery Dutch Boy. He smiled back at her and took a sip of his drink.
Lizzie thought of the movie "The Holiday" with Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz. The little old man who played a famous movie producer in the film had a whole bit about "meet cutes." She had never heard of that term before watching this film. It described a moment in which two main characters meet! His example had been a woman looking for just the top part of a pajama set running into a guy looking for just the bottoms! How kismet! Meet cute! Lizzie was pretty confident she was in the middle of a meet cute with Mystery Dutch Boy when he asked for her name.
"Lizzie," she said, "and you?"
"Thijs," he replied and Lizzie looked at him confused, "You know, like a necktie? Thijs."
Lizzie was embarrassed. For some reason she had been so sure he was going to say his name was John. The fact that a completely different sound came out of his mouth went right over her head. She did, at the very least, speak English, right?
"Yes!" she said laughing, "Sorry, my brain totally farted when you opened your mouth." Did she just say fart?
Thijs and Lizzie talked the whole flight only stopping to nap for about an hour. She thought of how intimate that was. She had just met this guy and she was already falling asleep near him. That takes a lot of trust! Granted, she sleeps next to strangers on flights all the time, but this was different. The simple fact that he was becoming more than a stranger made it weirder to fall asleep in front of him. One of life's paradoxes, she supposed.
They talked about everything, even the thing Lizzie was most upset about that was causing her extreme anguish. He had listened without judgment which she desperately needed in that moment. Originally, she had been upset to miss out on 7 straight hours of crying by engaging with Mystery Dutch Boy, but he was so lovely! Like chocolate sauce.
The flight eventually landed and Lizzie wondered if that meant the magic would be gone. Quickly, she discovered that, yes, the magic was disappearing. Thijs had grabbed his bags and headed for the front of the plane without so much as a glance back at her. Lizzie resolved to gathering her things and started making her way off the plane as well. To her surprise, Thijs was just off the plane waiting for her.
"Oh, hey!" she said lighting up at his presence and he smiled down at her in response.
"Hey," he said, "Do you have everything?" he asked and when she nodded he said, "Okay, let's go."
The two of them found their way to baggage claim and swapped watching each other's things when necessary. It was comforting having him there, she thought. Like they were already dating even though they had just met! He felt like home somehow. She was naturally comfortable around him. She liked that.
Lizzie was daydreaming about a future with Thijs when she noticed him growing uneasy. She thought that was funny; that she could tell he was uneasy after such a short time of knowing him. But it's like she had always known him! She was going to keep this one.
"I have something I want to say," Thijs said then and Lizzie braced herself for the inevitable rejection. She really couldn't handle this on top of everything else.
"Shoot!" she said encouraging him to go on while hoping her initial assessment of him had been wrong; maybe he was just proposing. She could wish.
"I don't think us dating is a very good idea," he said finally. Lizzie stared back.
"You just seem to have your plate full and I think we want different things," he began explaining, "I know you say you're polyamorous but you still have a husband and that makes me uncomfortable. I feel guilty somehow."
"It's fine, really. We've been polyamorous for quite some time. If there was anything to feel guilty about its long been resolved," she pleaded, but he wasn't having it.
"I just need to get serious about dating and I can't be serious with you," he said and Lizzie considered this. In the end, she decided she didn't believe him.
Lizzie knew this bit all too well. Say whatever you need to say to just end it and avoid getting hurt. The problem wasn't that he wanted to be serious; he didn't. The problem was that he was falling. Falling much faster than he had anticipated and knowing what he knew - that she was somewhat already spoken for - he could see the end, his end; they had an expiration date. Better to end it before it gets started, she figured was his reasoning.
"I just think we're too different. you're going off on all these adventures and I don't think I would be able to keep up," he explained. There's no room for me in your heart, she could hear him thinking, but continued to blame it on who she was as a person instead of owning up to his feelings and just saying, fuck it! She fucking hated that. When people tried to reason and logic their way out of emotions. Why? Why try to reason your way out of love? Love is the best thing we do! She wanted to scream.
"Wait, what did you just say?" Lizzie asked suddenly interjecting.
"Pizza?" Thijs said confused.
"Did you...did you just compare me to pizza?" Lizzie asked him.
"Yes, and I'm like syrup or...or..."
"Chocolate sauce?" Lizzie offered.
"Exactly," he agreed, "You're pizza! Everybody loves you and you're great! Pizza is amazing! And I'm maple syrup or chocolate sauce; great quality and interesting to try out together, but; ultimately, it doesn't fit."
"What did I do wrong?" it came out of her mouth before she could stop it, why did she assume she did anything wrong? This was his issue!
"You didn't do anything wrong!" Thijs said quickly, "I think you're beautiful and smart and funny and a good person. So you can put all of that in your back pocket," he said smiling.
Like any of that would ever make up for the fact that he labeled her pizza. Cheap, dirty, chaotic pizza. He called himself chocolate sauce in comparison? Damn.
"Yeah, I guess I'm pizza," Lizzie said defeatedly, "Mostly satisfying. Comforting when sober and a necessity when drunk. Yep, that's me."
Lizzie thought about that and realized how right he was. People needed to be drunk in order to admit their feelings for her! Was she intimidating? She had been told by countless people that they consider her "the one that got away" but everyone who ever said that pushed her away. She wondered then what Thijs would think of her in a few years. Would he also be messaging her that he fucked up? How could he let himself let her go? She could hope.
"We're just really different," he said again, "You're very high energy and go, go, go and it's more laidback and chilled out on my end."
Was he....was he just making shit up now? It was bad enough he compared her to pizza. Something that is literally "crusty" while equating himself to a delicacy. This would take a while to get over. This would stick with her for a very long time. Pizza. Pizza, pizza, pizza. She was never eating pizza again.
"I got it," she cut him off, "No need to keep on explaining the dynamic." I'm trash, you're special, she thought.
"I'm really sorry," he said, "I think you're incredible." Lies, she thought mentally rolling her eyes, but didn't argue with him.
"You're kind of an asshole," she said then.
"What the hell," he replied looking bruised.
"Yeah!" she said gaining momentum, "Why the hell did you bother chatting with me for so long if you knew this wasn't going to work? I wear a ring on my finger. I mentioned I was married long before now. What, all of a sudden that matters to you now? It didn't for the first 8 hours I knew you."
"It's not just the marriage thing," he explained.
"Oh, I know," she replied, "It's about you being a coward."
"I'm an asshole and a coward now?" He said angrily.
"Yeah that's pretty much the thick and thin of it as I see it," Lizzie insisted, "Next time, leave me alone and let me cry."
Lizzie turned to leave him sensing the healthy part of the conversation had ended and the rest would just be a mess. He grabbed her arm.
"Lizzie," Thijs said looking at her. She stared back up at him.
In the space between them were all the words left unsaid. The truth of everything just swept under the rug and covered up with bullshit and mean words; bad analogies, too. She would forever be pizza, she realized. Able to get along with virtually anything, but never anyone's first choice. If pizza was a comfort food saved only for last-minute meals or hangover food, then she was exactly that, too. No one fantasizes about pizza, but we all love it. What was that about, she wondered. It's no one's favorite. When asked what you could eat consistently for the rest of your life, no one chose pizza. But it was always there.
Thijs leaned down to kiss Lizzie which surprised her. Hadn't he just been preemptively dumping her before anything even began? She kissed him back. He kissed her five more times before letting her go. Lizzie was confused. Did he want her or not? Kiss.
"See ya, Mozzarella," Thijs said smiling at her.
"Yeah, okay," Lizzie smiled, "See you around, Cocoa Powder."
And; truly, she really wished for that; to see him. She really, really did. Lizzie grabbed her bags and started looking for her husband who was meant to be picking her up at the airport. She made a mental note to tell Mystery Dutch Boy she didn't mean it when she called him an asshole; she was just really hurt. She hoped to see him again if just to say that. He wasn't an asshole. In fact, he was just so horribly wonderful it was impossible that she had ever let those words come out of her mouth. I really hope that doesn't stick with him...she thought.
As soon as she thought it; though, she got the feeling like it totally did. It occurred to her that maybe no one had ever called him an asshole. That he had made it to 27 without that label being slapped on him. And there she was, some innocent little American girl throwing around insults like confetti all because her feelings were hurt. She would make it her mission to explain thoroughly that she was the asshole for even suggesting that and maybe they could laugh. Maybe.
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