There’s this boy I sit next to in my lab. He’s not particularly handsome, but he’s smart, talented, funny and has a good heart. That may sound cliche, but I mean it in the most genuine of respects. He snuck me into a basketball game one day after class. It was the most fun I had since I could remember. Although I’m four years older than him, his maturity and kindness astounds me. I stood next to him, watching in amazement how this person enjoyed the simple pleasures in life and decided to bring me along as a lark. I’m not old, but he made me feel young again.
My boyfriend is two years older than me. He’s absolutely handsome. I’m always chasing after him, cleaning up his messes and forgiving him for his shortcomings and errors. Any problems we do have, he causes them. I stay home, waiting most of the time, always bracing myself for the next blow. Although I have almost infinite patience for him, he seems to lack any empathy when I need his support. He always makes me feel older than I should simply because one of us has to be responsible, and that burden falls onto me.
I find it so odd that someone so physically attractive can have such a rotten soul, while the one who lacks the physical beauty is made beautiful because his soul reflects outward.