I liked Moscow right away. But I did not immediately understand what.

The boy is like a boy. Around were prettier, and taller, and cooler. And he took - and magnetized.

We can safely say that it was love at first sight.

A little later, I deciphered this magic. I dissected my feelings and understood what was the matter.

Every affection has a reason.

Or people recognize themselves in another person and coincide in waves. Or they see in another person what they themselves are in short supply.

Misha was very confident in himself. So much so that it's overkill in places.

And I'm the opposite. So insecure it's indescribable.

I was so amazed by his self-confidence that I could not stop looking. Figuratively speaking, I experienced a wild thirst for self-sufficiency, and he has a whole well of this good.

I tried to stay close all the time. I was just in a fever if he skipped lectures and we didn't see each other. Like this? Today without him? Not a sip?!

It is always easy and calm next to a confident person. I looked at him with admiration: if a fire starts, everyone will run around, shouting “Fire! Fire!" and create panic, and he will extinguish. And I, accordingly, serve buckets of water.

I wanted to be around. Tried to please him. Well, as she tried, she just looked, was embarrassed, and if we met eyes, she urgently looked away. So-so flirting, of course.

But I was Jane Eyre, not Sasha Grey. Pride and prejudice raged in me, but that's not all.

One terrible day, I found out that Misha has a girlfriend. That he meets her and escorts her to the institute, and they live together, and even got a kitten.

My world has collapsed. Kittens are born as a rehearsal for children. So, they have a happy and full-fledged family.

And I'm so ... a classmate.

“What exactly did you want? I asked myself. “Why on earth would he even look at you?”

My friend wore a plunging neckline. She said: "You need to walk with trump cards."

I didn't have trump cards there. So... jacks.

My trump cards were my legs, but I already walked on them. How else to stick them out, I did not know. At a meeting, is it fun to sit on the twine? Or throw a leg over the neck?

Uncertain people will understand me: I did not feel at all competitive in the bride market.

I felt like I was average. None. No way.

Once Misha accompanied me home in the evening. We, just friends, left the institute when it was already dark and went to the bus stop. And they noticed my bus leaving. The next one is in 40 minutes. We ran, screamed, but did not have time. He blinked his stopars merrily and drove away.

“Damn,” I sighed. - I'll hang around here.

I felt cold. Misha gave me his jacket, and I felt cold for him. I really wanted to hug to keep warm, but it’s impossible, he has a kitten. And some woman who cleans up the tray after him.

We stood at the bus stop for about five minutes and suddenly saw that my bus was coming towards me, but empty. Maybe it was broken, maybe just not on the route, but it did not stop at stops.

- Oh, let's ask if he suddenly goes where you need to? Misha suggested.

- If you ask him, he won't stop.

- Stop!

— How do you imagine it? It's impossible!

Misha ran out onto the road and held out his hand as if hailing a taxi. And I caught a bus. He stopped dead in his tracks, this green bus. I remember him for the rest of my life.

- And you are not to Izmailovsky Park, by any chance? Misha asked the driver.

Yes, I'm at the depot.

"Don't drop the girl?" It will freeze. She's right there.

The driver silently opened the front door, and Misha gallantly gave me his hand.

I dazedly entered the empty bus, at the last moment remembering someone else's jacket.

“I wrote down the number, don’t be afraid, call me from home,” Misha whispered to me hastily. And most importantly, remember: nothing is impossible.

Ten minutes later we overtook the first bus I was supposed to take. I still couldn't come to my senses.

Right there on that bus, I really wanted to be confident. Pump up this quality in yourself, like a press.

In order to stop at full speed in the future, I don’t understand where the buses I needed came from. I realized that confidence is the ability to get where you want, faster and more comfortably than planned in the schedule of fate.

And I also realized that I really want to fall in love with Misha. So that he would see me off all his life and meet only me, give only me his jacket and only catch buses for me.

He himself said that nothing is impossible, and even proved it. Basically, it's my own fault.

Right on that bus, a couple of stops before Izmailovsky Park, a new person was born - self-confident Olya.

So what do we have? There is a boy that I like. But he's busy.

But, on the other hand, he obviously reaches out to me, maybe unconsciously.

All the changes at the institute we laugh together, walk, chat, and even take sandwiches with us, taking into account "I will not have a snack alone."

So, my trump card is not in the neckline and miniskirts, and not in cooking: my sausage sandwiches are clearly not what attracts him so much in my company. My path to his heart is thorny and ambiguous, and it runs through the gullies of my underdoclearned intellect.

I confidently set myself the task: I need to become more interesting for him than the one with the kitten.

What happened next was funny.

I read a lot. Then the detectives Marinina and Dashkova were at the peak of popularity, so I read them all and learned a lot of interesting things from there.

My further tactics of conquering Misha was due to straightforwardness and narrow-mindedness: along with sandwiches, I fed Misha stories about how my weekend went. And they were very active, because on Saturday and Sunday I managed to get into almost all the troubles that the main characters of the detectives got into. The story, told in the first person and transferred to the sleeping area of ​​the capital, in my performance acquired an incredible mystical scope.

Misha listened to me fascinated, his face was full of admiration. Now, after seventeen years of marriage, he has such an expression only after a particularly successful borscht with village sour cream.

And then he looked at me with all his eyes, envied my interesting life and did not doubt for a second that this downtrodden nerd girl with textbooks under her arm climbs roofs on Saturdays, chats with numismatists who have found a gold coin of tsarist times, and accidentally attacks on the trail of criminals on the federal wanted list.

All in all, the tactic worked. Misha fell deeply in love. A year later, we began to live together, and his ex moved out to her mother along with the kitten.

There is a sad episode in this story.

This kitten once became very ill and died. And Misha went to help bury him. And at that moment I was sitting at his house and thought: what if she, the former, is just trying to return him, Misha, in this way? Well, they say, united by a common grief, they will embrace and ... Or maybe she exhausted the kitten for this? (Everyone knows that the former of our men are witches.)

After this thought, I decided that it was time to tie up with the detectives.

And it's time to stop lying. You can't build a family on lies.

That same evening, when Misha returned home, I said:

- You have to read something.

And she handed him the collected works of Marinina.

- Today? Misha was horrified.

- Not. Not today. Gradually. You will have questions for me after reading.

But I'm tired of carrying this secret with me.

Misha was intrigued and immediately began to read. I was waiting for the denouement.

He read all weekend. I left for this time to my friend.

When we met, he looked at me with the same admiration.

“I know what I liked about you,” he said. - Your self-confidence. You lied so confidently and delicately that I didn’t doubt for a second that all this happened to you. When I read it, at first I couldn't even believe my eyes. In general, at first I thought that Marinina was you ....

I laughed. Now it's a family tale. About how the insecure Olya mimicked into a confident one and won the war for love.

And I just knew the secret: “impossible” is just a word. Which may not even exist.

Especially when love has already happened ...