There once was a girl, and she was in love. She would have found it amusing, how it was just like the books had said – what with the clammy hands and flutters in the stomach and giggles at completely random moments – except that she was way too busy being in love to notice this. Which was unusual, because she usually was unusually good at noticing unusual things. This girl, who was in love, let’s not forget, did all the things a person is supposed to do. She earned money (but while distracted), she cooked (and sometimes burnt things), she washed her socks (and lost a few in the process). And all the while she was in love.

The reason for her in-love-being was a boy. The boy was a stranger, as they so often are, and he had many skills. One of them happened to be making magic, but he was also very good at cleaning the skillet after making omelets (this he did without using magic). The girl had found him accidentally while browsing through some new books at the library, and she almost thought someone had kicked her really hard in the stomach, and then in the heart. Nobody had, of course, but it really felt just like that. She wasn’t sure she liked it at first, but then decided there was nothing to be done about it. She would have to be in love with the boy whether she liked it or not, so she might as well make the most of it. And that’s exactly what she did.

First, she stalked the boy. In a nice way, I mean. The kind where you casually hang out in the same place all the time – in this case, it was the library – until the object of your desires comes along. You then try very hard to appear supremely busy, but have developed a clever way of peeking at someone over the top of a very large book. This way, you are able to see when the aforementioned object of desire leaves, and can follow him, with about fifteen meters between you, sometimes as far as to the grocery store next to the flower shop, before you lose your courage and have to jump on the wrong bus just to get away quick enough. It isn’t a very useful way of stalking someone, but it was a game of some sorts, so the girl was content.

After some time she felt even more in love, and so a different game began. This one consisted, again, of waiting in the library for immeasurable amounts of time until, again, the boy would appear. She would make sure to be holding a lot of heavy books while waiting, and as soon as the boy entered the room, she would drop them accidentally/on purpose, and make an awful racket which always made the librarian look at her sternly. This happened several times before the boy figured out the game, and decided to drop his own books just to show solidarity. Actually, it might have been a real accident, the boy dropping his books, but the important things is that there was now a girl, who was in love, and a boy, who was very-soon-in-love, and that they now knew each other’s names, and after a while even started having entire conversations together.

I am sorry to say I don’t know what happened to the girl who was in love. But sometimes, I think, it’s enough to know that there once was a girl, and she was in love. It can remind us that if it happened to her, a completely average girl in almost every way, then surely it can happen to us as well?

© Maria Hansen Troøyen 2012