Right. Here's where I get philosophical, and then I'm off to bed myself.
Don't think I ever told you this, since it was during that year or two I was trying to pretend I wasn't related to any of you lot, but back at Hogwarts I had this massive thing for Lila Sathingford. Walking-into-walls-because-I-was-too-busy-looking-at-her levels. And I thought there was no way she'd ever be interested in me, so I never said anything, and she dated other people and I dated other people and she got married right out of school and they're very happy together.
Ran into her, oh, a year later or so, right after she'd announced they were expecting their first, and I bought her a cup of tea and we talked about all the people we'd known, and she kissed my cheek as we were saying our goodbyes and confessed she'd always had a bit of a thing for me in school and was surprised I'd never noticed.
I'd already decided life was too short to muck around with pining from afar, but that settled it for certain. So now if I'm attracted to somebody, I'll put it out there right up front, and that way everybody knows the score and we can be grownups about it. Most of the time, I get the I'm-very-flattered-but, I parry with oh-well-a-guy's-gotta-try, and we can get on with being friends. Sometimes she (or he, yeah, but that's usually more complicated to try to negotiate around) returns the interest, but is looking for something way more serious than I am, and we agree that our expectations aren't right for each other. But every lover I've had came about because I said something outright, right up front, instead of letting it build up until something exploded and a bunch of people got hurt.
And that sounds a bit horrible, like I'm bouncing from mattress to mattress, which I'm not, really. (For one thing, I don't have the time!) But it's why Mum's never been able to tell my friends from my lovers: everyone I've ever been with has been a lark for fun, or a friend good enough to get naked and silly with, and the few serious relationships I've had have all started that way too. I'm not saying you should try that too -- I don't think you're the type for it. And I know what you mean about hoping sometimes being better than knowing. But if you're interested in Tonks, don't let her be your Lila Sathingford, yeah?
She might say no. I'll be honest with you, mate: I think she'd probably say no. Every time we've talked about our personal lives, everything she's said makes me think she's not interested in anything serious, and might not be interested in anything at all. (Not that we've ever talked about you in particular, just talked about things in general.) And there are even more complicated bits I can't tell you, that come from conversations in confidence that I won't repeat, because she's my friend. But Dad's right. No matter how complicated it is.
Have a drink with her. See how it goes. Listen to what she says, have a real conversation with her and not with your picture of her, and when the moment feels right, say something like, "I know your life's complicated right now, but I like you a lot and I'd like to get to know you better. Can I take you out to dinner one night we're both free?"
If she says no, or doesn't seem enthusiastic about the idea, just smile and say, "No, of course I understand, just thought I'd ask," then change the subject immediately back to something she was talking about a few minutes ago and don't act any differently for the rest of the conversation. (Then you can go home and kick things after, and figure out what to do from there.) And if she says yes, well, there you go, yeah? And you let her set the pace from there.
And don't worry: I won't say anything to Mum and Dad, or to Tonks herself, even. But don't keep torturing yourself with what-ifs. It's not fair for anybody involved -- it's not fair to you to be constantly tormenting yourself with possibilities and holding her up as some imagined ideal no other woman will ever be able to meet, and it's not fair to her for you to have that ideal in your head when you talk to her and you're the only one who knows.
And you're welcome, and I'll repeat the favour anytime, since you've certainly listened to me enough over the years. Hope you're asleep by now, and I'm not far behind you. But first, let me send the second bishop in to help the pawns with that catapult they're still working on: Be3.
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branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2012-12-01 12:40 pm (UTC)Don't think I ever told you this, since it was during that year or two I was trying to pretend I wasn't related to any of you lot, but back at Hogwarts I had this massive thing for Lila Sathingford. Walking-into-walls-because-I-was-too-busy-looking-at-her levels. And I thought there was no way she'd ever be interested in me, so I never said anything, and she dated other people and I dated other people and she got married right out of school and they're very happy together.
Ran into her, oh, a year later or so, right after she'd announced they were expecting their first, and I bought her a cup of tea and we talked about all the people we'd known, and she kissed my cheek as we were saying our goodbyes and confessed she'd always had a bit of a thing for me in school and was surprised I'd never noticed.
I'd already decided life was too short to muck around with pining from afar, but that settled it for certain. So now if I'm attracted to somebody, I'll put it out there right up front, and that way everybody knows the score and we can be grownups about it. Most of the time, I get the I'm-very-flattered-but, I parry with oh-well-a-guy's-gotta-try, and we can get on with being friends. Sometimes she (or he, yeah, but that's usually more complicated to try to negotiate around) returns the interest, but is looking for something way more serious than I am, and we agree that our expectations aren't right for each other. But every lover I've had came about because I said something outright, right up front, instead of letting it build up until something exploded and a bunch of people got hurt.
And that sounds a bit horrible, like I'm bouncing from mattress to mattress, which I'm not, really. (For one thing, I don't have the time!) But it's why Mum's never been able to tell my friends from my lovers: everyone I've ever been with has been a lark for fun, or a friend good enough to get naked and silly with, and the few serious relationships I've had have all started that way too. I'm not saying you should try that too -- I don't think you're the type for it. And I know what you mean about hoping sometimes being better than knowing. But if you're interested in Tonks, don't let her be your Lila Sathingford, yeah?
She might say no. I'll be honest with you, mate: I think she'd probably say no. Every time we've talked about our personal lives, everything she's said makes me think she's not interested in anything serious, and might not be interested in anything at all. (Not that we've ever talked about you in particular, just talked about things in general.) And there are even more complicated bits I can't tell you, that come from conversations in confidence that I won't repeat, because she's my friend. But Dad's right. No matter how complicated it is.
Have a drink with her. See how it goes. Listen to what she says, have a real conversation with her and not with your picture of her, and when the moment feels right, say something like, "I know your life's complicated right now, but I like you a lot and I'd like to get to know you better. Can I take you out to dinner one night we're both free?"
If she says no, or doesn't seem enthusiastic about the idea, just smile and say, "No, of course I understand, just thought I'd ask," then change the subject immediately back to something she was talking about a few minutes ago and don't act any differently for the rest of the conversation. (Then you can go home and kick things after, and figure out what to do from there.) And if she says yes, well, there you go, yeah? And you let her set the pace from there.
And don't worry: I won't say anything to Mum and Dad, or to Tonks herself, even. But don't keep torturing yourself with what-ifs. It's not fair for anybody involved -- it's not fair to you to be constantly tormenting yourself with possibilities and holding her up as some imagined ideal no other woman will ever be able to meet, and it's not fair to her for you to have that ideal in your head when you talk to her and you're the only one who knows.
And you're welcome, and I'll repeat the favour anytime, since you've certainly listened to me enough over the years. Hope you're asleep by now, and I'm not far behind you. But first, let me send the second bishop in to help the pawns with that catapult they're still working on: Be3.