Haruki Murakami, the famous Japanese writer wrote a story titled "On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning."
It was the most beautiful story I had ever read.
One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo's fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl.
Tell you the truth, she's not that good-looking. She doesn't stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn't young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a "girl," properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She's the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there's a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.
Today, I have the same feeling. The girl was young and not the most pretty girl I had seen, but there is this something about her that attracted me, that gave rise to the feeling that I should know her. That I should go and talk to her. The urge was just so strong.
"So anyhow," he says, already bored, "what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?"
"Nah. Just passed her on the street."
But like the protagonist in the story, I didn't do it. I don't know how to start the conversation. I just let her walk past me. And probably live to regret it. And I am quite angry with myself now. How in hell did I let my fears overcome me again? I still think too much.
Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.
Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards.
How can I approach her? What should I say?
"Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?"
Ridiculous. I'd sound like an insurance salesman.
"Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an all-night cleaners in the neighborhood?"
No, this is just as ridiculous. I'm not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who's going to buy a line like that?
Maybe the simple truth would do. "Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me."
I am supposed to be well trained by now to talk to girls. I now felt like a soldier who had endured all the hardships in training camp, spending years learning to be the best soldier, only to froze at the first moment of battle and got shot on the head.
I take a few more strides and turn: She's lost in the crowd.
Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical.
Oh, well. It would have started "Once upon a time" and ended "A sad story, don't you think?"
Well, I don't know how to end this story. Perhaps fate will intervene one day and I will see her again. If I did, I'll swear I won't let the chance go. There is the risk that I may find my preconception about her is not what I think it is after I talked to her, but at least I would have talked to her and put the matter to rest. Not knowing is the probably the worst state to be in.
If I didn't, probably I will write it into a story like Haruki Murakami did.