Recently, your mother and I were searching for an answer on Google. Halfway through entering the question, Google returned a list of the most popular searches in the world. Perched at the top of the list was “How to keep him interested.”
It startled me. I scanned several of the countless articles about how to be sexy and sexual, when to bring him a beer versus a sandwich, and the ways to make him feel smart and superior.
And I got angry.
Little One, it is not, has never been, and never will be your job to “keep him interested.”
Little One, your only task is to know deeply in your soul—in that unshakeable place that isn’t rattled by rejection and loss and ego—that you are worthy of interest. (If you can remember that everyone else is worthy of interest also, the battle of your life will be mostly won. But that is a letter for another day.)
If you can trust your worth in this way, you will be attractive in the most important sense of the word: you will attract a boy who is both capable of interest and who wants to spend his one life investing all of his interest in you.
Little One, I want to tell you about the boy who doesn’t need to be keptinterested, because he knows you are interesting:
I don’t care if he puts his elbows on the dinner table—as long as he puts his eyes on the way your nose scrunches when you smile. And then can’t stop looking.
I don’t care if he can’t play a bit of golf with me—as long as he can play with the children you give him and revel in all the glorious and frustrating ways they are just like you.
I don’t care if he doesn’t follow his wallet—as long as he follows his heart and it always leads him back to you.
I don’t care if he is strong—as long as he gives you the space to exercise the strength that is in your heart.
I couldn’t care less how he votes—as long as he wakes up every morning and daily elects you to a place of honor in your home and a place of reverence in his heart.
I don’t care about the color of his skin—as long as he paints the canvas of your lives with brushstrokes of patience, and sacrifice, and vulnerability, and tenderness.
I don’t care if he was raised in this religion or that religion or no religion—as long as he was raised to value the sacred and to know every moment of life, and every moment of life with you, is deeply sacred.
In the end, Little One, if you stumble across a man like that and he and I have nothing else in common, we will have the most important thing in common:
Because in the end, Little One, the only thing you should have to do to “keep him interested” is to be you.
Your eternally interested guy,
This post is, of course, dedicated to my daughter, my Cutie-Pie. But I also want to dedicate it beyond her.
I wrote it for my wife, who has courageously held on to her sense of worth and has always held me accountable to being that kind of “boy.”
I wrote it for every grown woman I have met inside and outside of my therapy office—the women who have never known this voice of a Daddy.
And I wrote it for the generation of boys-becoming-men who need to be reminded of what is really important—my little girl finding a loving, lifelong companion is dependent upon at least one of you figuring this out. I’m praying for you.
music blasting an electronic beat, but nothing beats as fast as my pulse under his lips, mouth trailing down my neck.
his hair is short underneath my fingers, and i tug ever so slightly, as his tongue tangles once again with mine.
there is only darkness and lips, my hand tangled in his tshirt, his palms against my back pulling me closer over the console of the car between us.
my mouth tastes of fire and of heat, desire turning my cheeks a brighter shade, because of him. him. him.
his hands leave whispers of wanting across my stomach and i ignite, tugging him closer, dissolving any space that existed between us.
i am a wildfire. he is gasoline.
“drop a match, i go up in flames.”
(m.b, a pynch poem)
There's a commercial in the states where a little boy throws paper airplane letters to his dad in the air and they land in his neighbors yard and the neighbor collects them up and ships them to his dad and Imagine your and Chris' son trying to throw paper airplanes to Mars and your neighbor collects them all and gives them to Chris when he gets home.
This isn’t going to be a passive aggressive letter. There's no point in that you’ve already won. To the one that loves him next, be good to him please. I beg you, be good to him. Be kind and sweet and caring. He can be bossy and likes to have his own way your life will be easier if you just accept that. He isn’t perfect, he’s made mistakes and he’s a flawed being but please… please.. do not judge him for this. I urge you to accept him for who he is, flaws and all.
I can not ask you enough times to be good to him. He’s going to need you sometimes and when he does I ask that you give him your undivided attention. I ask that you just be with him till it’s all over and he feels better. Do not take advantage of him if he trusts you, please. He can be quite the jerk sometimes and in that moment I ask you to remember the good in him. I ask you to remember the type of man he is and it will all be okay.
To the one that loves him next, every time you look into his eyes, you are looking into my world. Every time you hug him, you are holding my world in your arms. I don’t hate you, I promise. I have nothing against you either. Never let him fall asleep thinking he’s unloved don’t do it.. please.. never. He’s made a lot of mistakes in his life and he’s open and honest about them. Please do not hold this against him, he’s ever changing… ever growing. He accepts responsibility for his mistakes and I ask that you allow him to move on.
I can tell you that he isn’t an easy person to love. It may take a lot of work but I assure you he deserves it. When I first met him, I disliked him so much. Hell I was sure he and I would never be friends and I intended to never talk to him again! I think I hated him! Then just as I was about to get rid of him something said to me “Don’t do it. Give him a chance.. he is a good person and he will be a part of your life for a long time.”
And so I listened to that voice! And it was right, it turns out.. he really was a good person just misunderstood. I’m going to ask you to listen to that voice.. or what ever it is because it’s always right. You may learn things about him by relying on this and that’s a good thing. You will know when you need to pray for him, when you need to talk to him. You will know things about him that he never told you. You may even know things about him before they happen or sense them I don’t know what this is but I ask you never ignore it.
It has given me the opportunity to pray for his life two times and I’m going to demand that if that happens to you, you get on your damn knees and you start praying and you don’t stop till what ever it is.. is over. Till he’s okay. They will be like little nudges I guess pushing you to do certain things for him. I know I’ve experienced it quite a few times. He needs your prayers and I’m going to ask you to pray for him daily just as I do even on the days when you feel as if you’re unable to pray for yourself, pray for him.
It’s been almost an entire year that I have been praying for him. Every day. I don’t think I’ve ever skipped a day and I don’t intend you but I promise you all I pray for is his health and safety. Never anything more that’s not my place. I will pray that who ever you are, that you make him happy. He deserves it more than anyone I know and if I knew how to make him happy, I would.
To the one who loves him next, always be polite to him. Respect him, cherish him and honor him. Never forget that he’s not just the man you love but he’s God’s own son and you must cherish that. Be patient with him, please. Please… above all else… never ever… hurt him. Just fill his life with happiness is all I ask.
Type: So much sad, but a happy ending because that’s what I do.
I was pleasantly surprised by the sound of the front door of my dorm room clicking. Like a puppy to it’s master, I ran to the door ready to throw my arms around the creator of such a lovely sound. I knew if my door was clicking, it was about to be opened, and the only person I could possibly be expecting was Vernon.
“Ah!” I yelled excitedly, as he stepped through the door and dropped his practice bag. Before I could stop myself, I threw my body at his, smelling his sweat and dirt from practice. I didn’t care though. It was rare that I got the chance to see him on a weekend.
“Babe,” he chuckled nervously. “Calm down, yah?” Vernon and I were still a relatively new couple, so skin ship of any sort, public or private, always made him into a giant awkward turtle. We were around three months in at this point, and I don’t think I could recall a time when he didn’t ask my permission to hold my hand.
“Sorry,” I smiled into his neck and leaned back to get a good look at his handsome face.
He looked worn out and tired. The king of facial expressions was blank at the moment, causing me to back up a bit. Normally, no matter how tired he was feeling, he would at least shoot me a smile. This day, he just stared blankly past me and into my room. I let go of him and backed up slightly. I watched as he popped off his shoes and stumbled in, knocking over a vase of flowers I had just put up on the way.
“Ah!” he muttered in frustration. “When did that get there? Was that always there?”
“No, I put it there today,” I moaned, coming up behind him with a towel. I began to mop at the wet tile and began placing the flowers back into the vase. Vernon took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.
“Sorry babe,” he whispered, continuing his trek towards my small bed. Vernon was known to be clumsy on occasion, but this was a new vibe he was putting out. Nothing like my normal boyfriend.
After a few minutes of cleaning and refilling the vase, I joined him on the bed where he was playing with his fingers, staring blankly at the wall ahead.
“Hey, space cadet,” I laughed, hitting his shoulder with mine. “Want to watch a movie? Get some food?”
“I’m fine,” he nodded, continuing to speak under his breath in rapid fire Korean that he knew I couldn’t understand.
“Vernon,” I tried, hitting his shoulder again. “What’s up?”
He heaved another large sigh, bringing his hand through his hair once again. “So…something kind of messed up happened today.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“We were going through fan mail…and some of the manager noonas, they screen it sometimes…just to make sure we don’t get anything ugly or something that will bring down our spirits,” he continued, not making eye contact with me.
“Understandably,” I nodded.
“So Joshua and I, we were in the office, and we noticed a bunch of piles of papers laying on the desks in there. We thought they were fan mail that the manager noonas just hadn’t given out yet…so we started leafing through them to see who’s went to who, so we could bring them back to the practice room…it was a tough, long practice, so we thought everyone would get hyped.”
I nodded, already sensing where his story was going.
“I…um…started reading one…saying all of this terrible stuff…about Woozi,” he paused, readjusting on the bed and swallowing before he continued. “So we realized this was the hate mail we weren’t allowed to see…”
“Oh Vernon,” I sighed, placing a hand on his back. I saw a light tinge of blush hit his cheeks at my contact, but urged him to continue.
“So how do you say it all the time? Curiosity killed the cat? Well my cat got slaughtered…” he sighed. “We were curious about what people had to say about us, so we fished through some of the piles…Y/N…my mail pile was three times the size of everyone else’s…”
He continued to furiously pick at a callous on his hand. He was growing more nervous by the second.
“People telling me I can’t rap…why did my parents come to Korea because I was an embarrassment to our family…calling my dad a race-traitor…calling me…calling me…”
“You don’t have to say it Vernon,” I whispered.
“Two tone, a rice cracker, a…halfer,” he shook his head
My voice caught in my throat. I didn’t know what to say to him. I had never experienced that much hate, not at a public spotlight sort of level.
“They said I was cocky,” he continued in a whisper. “I didn’t have a right to any of Seventeen’s success…that I should give up now.”
“No,” I said suddenly, taking his chin in my hand and forcing him to look at me. “You stop right there Hansol.”
He winced, never having heard me say his Korean name before.
“You deserve everything that you have EARNED, just like every other member, do you hear me? Your parents are incredibly proud of you and no one should be able to convince you otherwise. Everyone who associates with you radiates pride by just knowing you.”
“But Y/N,” he tried.
“But Y/N nothing,” I stopped him. “Do you know the difference between you and them? Hm?”
He shook his head, still trying to avoid eye contact with me.
“That they waste their sad little existence writing you boys letters filled with hate, while you are out conquering the world,” I whispered. “Winning awards, making a difference.”
“What difference have I made?” Vernon scoffed, shaking his head.
“At a granular level,” i sighed. “Not even noting the accomplishments that your young group has made already…you’ve made a difference to me.” I felt a sob beginning to choke my words as a few tears slid from my eyes. “And to me…that is the world.”
Vernon gave a weak smile, letting go of his interlocked hands. “Thankyou Y/N…you’re right…” he sighed, nodding. “Do you mind if I -”
“Kiss me? “ I laughed through tears. “I’m getting sick of this whole permission thing DiCaprio.”
“Hey, I don’t look like-” he started as I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a soft kiss, but as always with my Vernon, it was filled with teeth and smiles.
Sometimes my mind gets stuck. This endless loop of you you you, and do you think of me still? Could you think of me still? An endless loop of you, and have you forgotten me already? I wish I wish I wish I could forget you.