An Ode to Jake

A few days ago, my girlfriend and I were leaving a local coffee shop after breakfast. Upon opening my car door to get inside, I happened to glance at the front window of the shop. I saw a gentleman, about 5’10” tall, brown eyes, black hair, Hispanic. He carried an aura of confidence about him; he seemed like the type of guy who could and would accomplish anything he set his mind to.

My girlfriend glanced at me with a somewhat puzzled look, confused as I took a couple of seconds and stared into the window.

“What is it, Jake?”

I turned to her and smiled.

“God, that’s a handsome devil in the window!”

Still confused, with her mouth agape, she turned and looked at the window. Noticing that the window I had been ogling for the past few seconds was opaque and rather reflective, she turned back to me more confused than before.

“All I see is you, Jake.”

I turned back to her for a second, and smirked. As soon as she saw the smile on my face, she knew what I was going to say, but that didn’t stop me from saying it.

“Exactly!”

She looked at the ground in front of her, put the sunglasses she hand in her hands over her eyes, sighed, and shook her head. I turned my head towards the window, looked at myself for another second, and then got into my car. I took a grin with me that I carried for the next few hours.

How do I love me? Let me count the ways.

People have asked me time and time again if I am as cocky and vain as others observe me to be. I often repeat the phrase, ‘If I could, I would run across a grassy field into my own arms.’

Often sarcastic, occasionally inappropriate, always opinionated, I am my favorite person. I bathe in the glow of the intelligence that I possess. I carry it with me like a protester with a placard, holding it above my head for all to see. I love sharing the knowledge I have with the people around me.

I have a great sense of humor, if I do say so myself! Sharp, witty, and poignant, I have always had an intrinsic ability to make those around me laugh. Not afraid to be self-deprecating, my friends always have a great time in my presence.

I am ridiculously good looking. And let’s be honest, as much is you value the company of friends and family who are less than attractive, it’s always better to be seen surrounded by beautiful people. Being around attractive people makes you feel better about yourself. I make people feel better about themselves.

By no means whatsoever am I perfect. Every time I think about my attributes, I think about my flaws, my vices, and my errors. I look at these things the same way I look at my favorite work of art.

I stare at my favorite painting and admire the work. I look from afar and notice the time, skill, and soul that the artist put into the canvas. I begin see how much of himself he conveys through his hand. The closer I get to the work, and the more I begin to stare, the more flaws I begin to see.

I see sections of canvas that have frayed over time. I see portions of the painting that have faded, and streaks where the artist put a little too much pressure on the brush. I see the things that some might consider imperfections, and they make the picture more beautiful, they bring the picture to life and make it more real.

I love the picture that is me. I love my frayed canvas. I love my flaws. I believe they bring me to life, and make me a human. To hate the imperfections, is to hate the painting as a whole. I would love me if I weren’t smart, if I wasn’t funny, if I wasn’t attractive.

But I don't have to worry about that, because I am smart, I am funny, and I am attractive, and more than anything else, I love me because I am humble.