The Summer of Darkness Part IV: Angelfish

Now, let's get back to the main story. There are certain terms and phrases that I hate. I mean really hate. To the point of getting mad when people use them. Some of these phrases are: "My bad" (Seriously, it makes you sound like a cave man when you say it) "It is what it is" (Duh! Of course it is = it is. Did someone dispute that fact?) "I could care less" (So you could care less? The tone of your voice contradicts what your mouth is saying.) "Not a happy camper" (So what? Are you a happy pilgrim? Try telling us what you are rather than what you aren't. It would be easier. This isn't 20 Questions.) "A bird in the hand is two in the bush" (So what you are saying is "1 bird in hand = 2 birds in bush? I think your math is off.) "Same difference" (Is it the same or is it different? Decide already.) "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times." (1 does not equal 1,000. I suggest you go back and find your mathematical mistake.) "It's always in the last place you look." (No dip, Sherlock. I usually keep looking after I find it.) And the one I hate most is the one that I am writing about today.

     "There are more fish in the sea." I hate that saying more than any other. For one, it uses fish as a metaphor for women, which is really gross because fish smell bad and I would never want to bang a fish. Also, it is probably the least helpful, lazy thing anyone can say for comfort.Your girlfriend broke up with you? There are more fish in the sea. Your wife filed for divorce? There are more fish in the sea. Really? All this time I thought there there was only one woman in the world! Thank you so much for clearing that up! Of course there are more "fish" out there, but does anyone ever stop to consider that maybe you've become attached to that "fish" and that flushing her down the toilet and getting a new one is not only hard, but doesn't fix anything?

     I first learned to hate this saying one Saturday during The Summer of Darkness. I was staying with my sister, Bailey (for what reason, I don't remember.) We were eating at potluck and I was telling her why I was feeling sad and related the story as I have to you. And what did she say? You guessed it. "There are more fish in the sea." My dad and other sister, Hope, had tried to cheer me up or offer a little advice or encouragement. It was because of this that I realized how unhelpful that phrase was.

      I tried making sense the phrase. I tried finding comfort in the words, but I couldn't get past he fact that I didn't want any of the other "fish," I wanted my fish. I didn't want a carp, a coy, a salmon, or a bass. I didn't want any of those lesser fish, I wanted my Angelfish.

     People may say, "There are more fish in the sea" with good intentions, but ultimately it is no help at all. It just comes across as insensitive and mostly lazy. That is why I hate that term and will never say it to anyone else.

Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown

I'm going to take a break from the Summer of Darkness story line and write about something more seasonally appropriate. I'm going to say a few words about everyone's favorite holiday: Christmas. And I say "BAH, HUMBUG!" They call it the "most wonderful time of the year," but I call bullcrap on that one. "GASP," you say, "You Grinch! You Scrooge! How can you hate Christmas!" Well, I don't hate Christmas. I hate the effect that people's idea of Christmas has had on society. I have two main problems: one, the Christmas shopping season seems to overshadow another, more important, American holiday. And two, people have completely lost what the actual meaning of Christmas is.

     It seems lately that the official start of the Christmas shopping season, Black Friday, has become more of a holiday than Thanksgiving. Black Friday has always started early, but last year it started as early as eight o'clock on Thanksgiving night. This year it was even earlier, starting at six p.m. At six o'clock on Thanksgiving, people should be at home eating dinner with their families, not waiting in line to get a TV at 50% off. Stores should be closed on Thanksgiving so that everyone, employees included, can be with their families. My mom works at Wal-Mart and because of how early Black Friday started, she was forced to work a 12 to 9 shift. Because of that, we couldn't spend Thanksgiving together as a family.

     The two most popular holidays are Christmas and Halloween. Can someone tell me why? Thanksgiving is one of the most important holidays in our American heritage. So why is a is a holiday about (according to some people) a fat dude handing out presents and a holiday based around scaring demons away (only enjoyable to kids ages 13 and under) more popular than the holiday celebrating one of the most important moments in our history!?

     In addition, people have completely lost sight of what Christmas is about. They lie to their children about a centuries old fat guy who breaks into your house at night, steals your milk and cookies, and leaves presents behind. All while riding around in a sleigh drawn by flying reindeer. Not only is the lying bad, but it teaches kids to be selfish, greedy little snots who think of Christmas as a way to get more "stuff." Christmas isn't about getting things, it's about the act of giving! The idea of Santa Clause completely takes away the giving aspect of Christmas and replaces it with "get." In Acts chapter 20, verse 35 it says, "It is more blessed to give than to receive."

     And since when was Christmas about Santa Clause anyway? I grew up being taught that Christmas was a day to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. The birth of the Savior who came to save us from sin! Not a day to see how many presents a fictitious fat man brought you. Linus in A Charlie Brown Christmas got it spot on.

     Christmas is about the birth of the Prince of Peace, but every year I hear of someone getting injured or killed after being trampled in the chaos of a Black Friday sale. People will go around saying that they know the true meaning of Christmas. Saying that it is the "most wonderful time of the year." Saying they want to spread peace, happiness, and joy. But they are all too willing to trample an old lady or store employee to death to get that microwave at 75% off.

     So go ahead, call me Scrooge. Just remember, at the end of the story, Scrooge knows the true meaning of Christmas. That is a lot more than could be said about a lot of people out there.

The Summer of Darkness Part III: "Guesss Whooo :P"

"Guesss whooo. :P" That was the subject line I saw when I opened up my email that night. A message from Kayla. I had given her my email address the last time I saw her. Honestly, I didn't expect her to email me after almost a week, but apparently I was wrong. It read something like this:

     "Hey! Sorry I didn't email sooner, but I got sick right after I got home last weekend. How are you?" I was so excited. I could finally keep in contact with Kayla. I wouldn't have to wait through the long periods of time between each time we saw each other.

     But as excited as I was, I was a little terrified, too. I had no idea of what to say back to her. I thought for a minute and came up with something, but as I was about to write it, I thought to myself, If I email her back right now, she might think I've just been waiting here for her email. She might think I'm clingy! So I resolved to wait a couple days to email her back. I was comfortable with that decision until I thought, Oh! Crap! If I wait to email her back, she might think I'm a jerk or something. She might think I'm trying to get back at her for not emailing me for a week. Even worse, she might think I am intentionally waiting to email her back for the precise reason I'm waiting to email her back! So then I decided to email her back right away. But, as you may have guessed, I changed my mind again and decided to wait. Then I changed my mind again. And then again. And again once more.

     This went on for a long time. It went on for a very long time. But to give you a better perspective, it went on for a very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, *gasps for breath* very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, *catches breath again* very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, *huff puff* very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very *GASP* very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very - even longer than it takes you to get through all these "verys" - long time. It came to the point where there was no reason in waiting to email her back, because I had already waited long enough contemplating weather I should wait or not. Unfortunately, by this time I had forgotten what I was going to say to her, so I was back to square one.

     So, after very, very, very, very (okay, sorry. I'll stop) long time of trying to remember what I was going to say, I settled on, "Hey, what's up?" And so it began, my futile attempt at wooing her via cyberspace. Little did I know, the end had already begun.

Summer of Darkness Part II: With a Little Help from My Friends

I should take a little time to introduce a few major players in the events to come. They were my neighbors and best friends. They moved the February before the Summer of Darkness into the house we were renting out. The three kids in the family would become some of the closest friends I could ever ask for. The youngest was a 7 year-old, very annoying, boy named Wyatt. I thought I wouldn't like him, but he turned out to be okay. Then there was Katie. The 11 year-old middle child. My first thought was, She's kinda hot! My second thought was, Crap, I just called an eleven-year-old hot. The oldest was around my age (15). Her name was Jessica and she was the one I was closest to.

     It was the day after I got back from the Sunnydale Youth Rally when I heard the knock at my door. It was Jess, Katie, and Wyatt wanting to know if I wanted to go outside with them. I didn't, but I thought that it might be good for me to spend some time with other people for a little bit, so I went. Apparently they could tell something was wrong, because it wasn't long before Jess asked, "You look sad. What's wrong?" I then commenced in telling her the story of the Girl in the Blue Hoodie just as I have told it to you.

     In some way that I can't remember, our conversation turned into a fight. All I remember is what follows: "I can't believe you can get so depressed over a girl you've only known for a cumulative total of three weekends!" She yelled.

     "You'd never understand!" I snapped back.

     "I wouldn't understand?! How could you say that! I had a boyfriend once that I really loved and he broke up with me! Believe me, I completely understand!"

     "You couldn't possibly understand!" I returned sharply.

     "If you say that I can't understand one more time, I'll punch you in the face!"

     "No! There is no way you can understand because you aren't me! You deal with things differently than I do and because of that, you can't possibly understand what I'm going through. I don't give a crap about some guy you had a relation ship with when you were ten! That doesn't count! How can you say you loved him? You can't even know how to love at that age! Your situation is nothing like mine! So don't pretend that you can understand. . . I don't even know why I tell you these things."

     What followed was a long silence. Then she finally said, "Because I'm - like - your best friend. . . ever."

      That was the first time anyone had ever claimed to be my best friend. I mean, I had people I considered my best friends before, but none of them had ever said that to me. I realized that she was right. She was my best friend and our friendship was too important to let a girl drive a wedge in it. I decided that I would try my best to forget my feelings for Kayla. It was a hopeless cause anyway. She lived nearly 200 miles away and she had a boyfriend. What was the point? I could spend my life miserable, pining over a girl that I had no chance with, or I could move on and enjoy my life with friends who cared about me. I chose the latter. This choice might have stuck, too. Had I not checked that email, the Summer of Darkness could have ended right then and there. But I checked my email that night, and what I found waiting in my inbox was an email from none other than Kayla herself. . .

Summer of Darkness Part I: Down in a Hole

Shock. That was the my first reaction. The veil I had put before my own eyes had been lifted by five words: "Cousin? No, that's her boyfriend." But the shock was soon gone. As the truth sunk in, so did my heart. Sunk straight down into my shoes. I regretted asking Kayla's friend who the toolbag she was with was. I was perfectly comfortable in my little fragile bubble of ignorance. I guess what they say is true. Ignorance is bliss.

     The rest of that weekend was horrible. I spent the weekend (and many weeks after) Down in a Hole. . . Not literally, it's just a metaphor. I was terribly depressed. I know I shouldn't have been. At that age, couples break up all the time. Kayla would be available again eventually. But my moody fifteen-year-old mind couldn't grasp that concept. At that time, it was the Apocalypse. The end of my world.

     I'm not proud of how I acted the rest of that weekend. Kayla was nothing but kind to me the entire weekend and tried to include me in whatever she might be doing. So many girls I knew would ignore their friends when they were around their boyfriend, but not Kayla. She was nothing but kind to me and I intentionally avoided her. I spent most of my time sulking in a bathroom stall, rather than sucking it up and hanging out with my friend.

     It was Saturday night, right before the final event of the Youth Rally, when my dad came to pick me up. He asked me what the final event was and I told him it was a gymnastics display in the gymnasium. "Well, let's get in there and find our seats." he said.

     As he spoke I saw Kayla and her boyfriend holding hands and walking into the gymnasium. I turned to my dad, stifling what I was sure was going to be a scream. "Can we just go home?" I asked, "I'm - um - not into gymnastics."

     "Okay," he replied, "pack up your stuff and we'll go."

     I left the Youth Rally without even saying goodbye to Kayla. To this day, this is my biggest regret. Not ruining things with Erin. Not missing my chance with Kayla. Not even many other things to come. It was this moment. The moment when I decided to leave that place without so much as a sideways glance at the girl I claimed to care about. That is my greatest regret.

     *Lesson Learned. . . or unlearned. I unlearned the lie I had told myself after Erin. The lie that you had to Hide Your Love Away. When the Voices all around tell you to make All Secrets Known to the girl of your dreams, listen. Otherwise you will be left Hollow and Stoned in your own Private Hell, Hung on a Hook to Choke.











*eight Alice in Chains references in one paragraph. I think that's pretty Sickman.

You Can't Handle the Truth

I was freaking out. I couldn't shake the feeling that the guy that Kayla had just introduced me to was her boyfriend. I kept trying to tell myself that he was her cousin or something, but the more I thought about it the less that scenario made since. He didn't look like he could be related to her at all. Not to mention, if they were cousins, it was one creepy-ass cousin relationship they had going. I was trying my best to be happy that Kayla was there, but that nagging feeling just kept getting larger. I had to find the truth.

     I made my way to the breakfast hall. My plan was to isolate one of Kayla's friends and get the truth out of her, but when I got there Kayla and her friends were all together. So much for that plan. Kayla waved me over to sit with them and a little while after I did, she got up with Evan to get some toast. Now's my chance, I thought, This plan isn't botched after all. As soon as Kayla was out of earshot, I asked Chelsea (the only one of Kayla's friends I knew) "So, who's that guy Kayla is with? I've never seen him before."

     "Who? Evan?" she replied.

     "Yeah, is he like her cousin or something?"

     "No," she laughed, "That's her boyfriend."

     And just like that, all my suspicions were confirmed. The happiness I felt about seeing Kayla was instantly replaced with the most crushing feeling. I shouldn't have asked. I should've just let things be and had a decent weekend. But no, I had to push for the truth. . . And I couldn't handle the truth. This marks the moment where the Summer of Darkness officially began. The period in my life that would shape my life to come.

I Saw Her Standing There

It was Saturday morning, the second day of the youth rally. I woke up at 8 A.M. to get ready for church at 10 A.M. but getting ready didn't take nearly that long so I decided to stroll around the dormitory. There wasn't much to see, so strolling became more like walking up and down the stairs aimlessly. I must have walked up and down those stairs forty or fifty times before I finally stopped. And why did I stop? Because I got tired. . . No, but really when I was halfway down the stairs for the umpteenth time, I happened to look out the window. That's when I saw her. All this time I thought she wouldn't be there, but there she was standing on the sidewalk. The Girl in the Blue Hoodie was back.

     I quickly rushed the rest of the way down the stairs and was ready to burst out the door, but then stopped, checked myself, and then casually walked out the door as if I were just getting some air. I walked over to a tree not to far from her and pretended like I didn't notice her. Waiting for her to notice me. You know, because I didn't want to look like I had been waiting for her or anything. I didn't want to seem weird (because leaning against a tree looking every which way except in her direction isn't weird or anything.)

     She didn't seem to notice, so I just decided I would go ahead and say "hi." I started walking over when she finally did notice me. "Oh my gosh!" She said, "It's you! You weren't here last May like you promised."

     "Yeah, I got appendicitis." I replied.

     "Like that's an excuse." She returned jokingly. Just then another person walked up. He was the toolpick guy I saw in the dorm the night before. And yes, I said "toolpick." It's a word I made up combining the word tooth pick (which describes his features) and tool (which describes his personality.) Truthfully, toolprick probably fits him a little better. She introduced us: "Evan, this is my friend, Nash. Nash, this is Evan." I shook his boney hand. It never crossed my mind that this guy might be her boyfriend. My brain kept telling me he was her cousin or something.

     After some idle chit-chat she and I parted ways and said we would get together at breakfast. Then she walked away with Evan and the nagging thought that they might be dating grew a little stronger in my mind. I had to find out for sure. Thus began The Summer of Darkness. . .

The Incubator

It was exactly one year after my appendicitis attack before I was able to meet up with Kayla again. I looked for her at the next January youth rally, but she wasn't there, so it wasn't too hopeful that I would see her this time. But that didn't stop me from searching. It was the first night of the March youth rally and everyone was meeting in the chapel for a short worship service (at least it was supposed to be short). I scanned the crowed over and over again in hopes of seeing her, but to no avail.

     Saddened, I walked back to the dorm room I was going to be staying the weekend in. I dragged my luggage into the room where five other guys around my age were hanging out. Six people. Two bunk-beds. It looked like I was going to have to sleep on the floor. One of the guys in that room I remember better than the others. Probably because he was about 6 ft. 8 in. tall and weighed about 80 lbs. The guy was a toothpick. His name was Evan and he would be my arch nemesis. . . But not yet, right now he was just a toothpick in a room that was way too crowded.

     It was claustrophobic in there with all those people, so I went out into the hall for some air. While out there I struck up a conversation with a guy named Nathan. We talked awhile and it somehow came up that all the rooms were really crowded this year. I said, "There are five guys in my room. That's not including myself."

     "Wow," he replied, "that's the most I've heard yet. Listen, it's just my brother and me in my dorm. You can stay in our room if you like." That sounded great to me. The less people in a room, the better I would be able to sleep, so I accepted his offer and moved my luggage over to the new dorm where Nathan and his brother were staying.

     Like any group of teenagers, we didn't go to sleep at "lights out." We stayed up pretty much all night making jokes and watching Youtube videos. Somehow the topic of girls came up. At first we all just talked about generic stuff (girls are hot, boobs, etc.) but soon the conversation turned to the specific girls we liked. "Well," said Nathan, "I really like my girlfriend. I mean, otherwise I wouldn't be dating her would I?"

     Then his brother (of whose name I cant think of for the life me. I think it was Josh? Jacob? Something with a "J".) said, "I just like chicks. Don't care who, I just like chicks."

     "Well then," Nathan replied, "let me get you an incubator and you can have all the chicks you want." That got a sarcastic laugh from Josh (?) and then he turned to me and asked, "What about you? What girl do you like?"

     "You probably don't know her." I said.

     "Probably not, that's why you can tell us."

     "Her name is Kayla," I replied, "Kayla Doles."

     "Really? I think I know her! She's hot."

     Oh great. I thought to myself.

     Even though I got teased the rest of the night, I'm glad I stayed with those two. If I had been staying in my original room, I may have picking my teeth up off the floor. Because I would have been staying in a room with Kayla's new boyfriend. . .

What Is and What Should Never Be

It would be over a year before I would see Kayla again. The seemingly magical powers of the Popcorn Kernel of Truth had failed me when I swore I'd meet her in May. On the final day of the Sunny-Dale Adventist Academy Youth Rally, she made me promise that I would come to the next one four months later. Like on the first day we met, I swore on the magical popcorn kernel. I did so mostly in jest, but half believing that if it had worked once, it could do so again. But nay, it was not to be, for life had other plans in store. As the late rock-and-roll legend, John Lennon, once said, "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."

     It was late April when it came. The invitation to the May youth rally. "Finally," I thought to myself, "I'll get to see her again. . ." I immediately had my mother RSVP and then I was all set. A few short weeks and I would get to see Kayla again, just like I promised.

     The days came and went until one week remained. The Friday night before we were to leave (exactly one week before) my dad and I decided to go on a short walk. During our walk I began to feel a strange stitch in my side. I thought this was weird because I almost never get those and it persisted all evening.

     The next morning I was feeling worse. The stitch had become a mild stomach ache. I told my parents, but they just thought I was trying to get out of going to church. As the day went on, the pain started to subside slightly, but I still felt sick Sunday morning. By Sunday night the pain had worsened and moved lower down my abdomen. The only thing that made me feel any better was a steaming hot bath.

     By Monday morning, nothing had changed. I still felt sick to my stomach and I found it hard to focus on my schoolwork. I was homeschooled, so my mother was giving me an oral test in history. I think what tipped her off about my condition was that I couldn't answer any of the questions right. She sensed something was wrong and took me to the doctor. During all of this, the word "appendicitis" never even crossed my mind. It didn't feel like how people usually describe it. They usually describe it as a horrible, burning pain and use adjectives like "sharp." My pain just felt like a dull stomach ache, but when I got to the hospital my appendix was on the verge of rupturing.

     Needless to say, after that I didn't go to the youth rally the next week. I stayed home and recovered from the surgery. Of all the times to get appendicitis, I got it that week. I felt horrible that I couldn't keep my promise and what's worse, I was planning on telling Kayla how I felt about her that weekend. By the time I would see her again, it would be too late. But perhaps it was all for the best. Life has a habit of messing with our plans, but often times it improves our lives. What we think is and should never be at the time can turn into something we never expect later on. Perhaps it was a good thing that I got appendicitis and missed my chance. Otherwise, things may have turned out much differently in my life.

The Talent Show

The weekend was drawing to an end. At least mine was. The youth rally I was attending lasted from Friday night until Sunday morning, but due to my dad's work schedule, we had to leave Saturday night. But even though there were only 2 hours left in that weekend for me, there was still one more event I could attend: the talent show.

     I had always wanted to compete in a talent show and was planing on competing in this one (especially after I heard that this one had cash prizes). So I headed over to the campus' gymnasium to audition. I was planing on playing the famous "Linus and Lucy" song from A Charlie Brown Christmas on piano.

 I had my music books in hand and just found relief from the biting January air when I saw it. The gymnasium, it was utterly gigantic. The room was larger than my house and the entire floor was lined with chairs. There must have been room for at least three hundred people. I turned to one of the judges conducting the auditions and asked, "Are you expecting all those chairs to be full tonight?"

     "Are you kidding?" He replied, "We usually have so many people at this thing that people have to stand in the lobby."

     With that, my eyes widened and my mouth became dry. There was a snowball's chance in Hell that I would preform in front of, what could end up to be, over 300 people. $25 wasn't worth it. "I'm out." I said as I walked off the stage. I felt a little weird about running away from this chance to be in a talent show, but it wasn't the only thing I would be running away from that night.

     As I walked out into the lobby I caught a glimpse of Kayla speaking with an older, grey haired man who she had introduced to me as her church's pastor. I didn't think anything of it and went on. That is, I didn't thing anything of it then, but five minutes later Kayla comes running up to me. "Nash!" She said, "My pastor hasn't talked to you, has he?"

     "No." I replied."

     "Good! If you see him, don't believe a word he says!" She said and ran away again. I was a little more than confused, but I didn't press the subject any further.

     It finally came time for the talent show and my dad and I were lucky enough to find seats. What the judge said about there being a lot of people was right. The place was packed. In the stirring commotion of people, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see Kayla's pastor. "You're Nash, right?" He asked.

     "Um, yeah. . ." I reply.

     "Come with me real quick." He then led me to where Kayla was sitting. He points at her with a mischievous grin on his face and says, "This girl has a huge crush on you!" Kayla hid her face in her arms and I could feel my face turning red. The whole room fell silent (mainly because the talent show was starting, but I didn't know that) and it felt like everyone was staring at me. Without a word, I turned and quickly walked back to my seat. As embarrassing as that was, a small part of me was elated to hear that Kayla liked me. It was great to know that my crush was not entirely one sided.

     After the talent show, it was time for me to leave. I went over to say goodbye to Kayla and she said, "Sorry if my pastor embarrassed you or anything."

     "Oh, it was no big deal. It was actually kind of funny." I lied.

     "You know, he was just kidding, right?" She said, "What he said wasn't true."

     "Oh, yeah. I knew that. Ha ha!" I said as a little part of my soul died.

     "Promise you'll be here in May for the next youth rally, will you?"

     "I promise," I said, "I swear it by the Popcorn Kernel of Truth." But the Popcorn Kernel of Truth, as it seems, only works once. It has seemingly the opposite effect after the first use because, due to appendicitis, I never made it to the May youth rally and she never made it the next January. I wouldn't see her again for over a year. And when I did see her, I regretted very much walking away that night. . .

"Miriam"

Throughout life, I have picked up many different nick-names. Some better than others. I've been known by such names as: Red (because my favorite color is red), Harrison (I have no idea why people called me that), Nash Potatoes (I will kill anyone who calls me that. I'm looking at you +Bailey Mills ), Nashie-poo (again, no idea), Retardud Cheez (classic case of mistaken identity), Mr. Awesome (I seriously got some people to call me that), and the Sex Hammer! (Okay, I admit. No one has ever called me that last one. But I'm working on it!) But one nick-name I cherished above all others. Only one person could call me that name and it was as embarrassing as hell, but it was my favorite. The name was Miriam and Kayla was the only person who could call me that.

     It wasn't too long after the lunch where I reunited with Kayla. All of  us (the kids at the youth rally) gathered in a large building in the center of Sunnydale Adventist Academy. There were roughly 100 of us all together, so the staff divided us all up into 10 groups of 10 (give or take a couple). Our groups were decided by the color that was on our name tags. If you name tag was dark blue like mine, you were in the Dark Blue Group. The Youth Leader stood up in front of everyone and began calling out the names of the group leaders. Once they were picked, we were to join up as a group and set out on some afternoon group activities.

     I was walking over to join my group when I saw someone else walking up as well. It was Kayla. She was also in the Dark Blue Group. My 14-year-old mind, that delusionally believed in fate, went nuts. There was no way it was an accident that we ended up in the same group just minutes after "accidentally" meeting her in the lunch line. I was convinced. We were meant to be together forever. As stupid as that sounds, at fourteen I actually believed it.

     It was here that I gained the aforementioned nick-name. One of our many group activities was a group exercise dubbed "Picture Perfect". In this exercise, we were given a Biblical scene and as a group we had to arrange ourselves in such a way that we resembled that scene. Then they would take our picture. Our scene happened to be "Moses and the Israelites crossing the Red Sea". As soon as she heard what the scene was, Kayla jumped up and yelled, "I call Moses! I want to be Moses."

      So I turned to her and said, "Well, if you're Moses, then I call his sister!"

     She turned and looked at me, then she said, "Okay, Miriam." And that's the name she called me ever since.

     I hated that nick-name, but I loved it when she called me that. I would never let anyone else call me Miriam, but she could all she wanted. It was both my favorite and least favorite nick-name of all time. But I'll still kick your ass if you call me Nash Potatoes.

The All-Powerful Popcorn Kernel of Truth

I said goodbye to "Muffins" (as I called her) after that weekend at Camp Heritage. Even though we swore on the Popcorn Kernel of Truth to see each other again, no matter the cost, I feared it was a oath I would not be able to keep. But that popcorn kernel had a strange magic about it. A magic that would bind you to your word. . .

     It was almost a year later in January when I took a trip to Sunny-dale Adventist Academy for a youth revival weekend. I had all but forgotten about The Girl in the Blue Hoodie, that is until day two of that weekend. I was standing in line at the lunch buffet that Saturday behind a girl I had taken notice of earlier that day. I was thinking about trying to talk to her, but where would I begin with that? I tried to think of how I could start a conversation with the girl ahead of me, and then it hit me. I tapped her (giggity) on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, but you look uncannily familiar. Have we met before?"

     She turned around and said, "Hi, Nash."

     As she turned to her friend and whispered about how she was right and how she knew it was me and that her friend owed her ten bucks now, her identity hit me like a truck load of bricks. She did look familiar and I now knew why. The girl standing in front of me was the Girl in the Blue Hoodie, only now she had forsaken the blue hoodie for a white, puffy coat with fur fringe around the hood. She had died her hair blond and cut it shorter. I couldn't believe it was her. Just like that, everything I felt for her when I first met her came flooding back. I stood shocked, not knowing what to say. All I could think of was, "The Popcorn Kernel of Truth. . . It worked."

     That got her to laugh and it eased my nerves a little. I could tell that this was going to be a great weekend. . .

Competition

It's official. I'm no longer an eighteen-year-old guy who has never dated! What happened? I turned nineteen. . . And I got a date! She's a really great girl and I hope it goes somewhere. But before I get to that story, I must continue the story of how I became the person I needed to become before I could get to that point.

     Today I'm talking about competition. Not just any kind of competition, but competition between friends. Between friends, over women.

     As mentioned last week, my friend Tommy and I met a girl named Kayla. The Girl in the Blue Hoodie. I instantly fell for her, but what I didn't know was, Tommy did too. On our way back to our cabin, Tommy turned to me and said, "Do you like her."

     "Of course," I replied, "she seems like a great person."

     "No, I mean like, 'like-like.'"

     "Those annoying monsters from the Legend of Zelda?" I returned, being coy.

     "You know what I mean!" He snapped.

     I thought for a minute. I remembered what my experience with Erin and the Beatles had taught me. You've got to hide your love away. Even if you also have to hide it from you friends. They'll just be dill-holes anyway. "No. . ." I lied.

     "Well, if you did, I know you your competition would be. . ."

     "Who?" I said, trying to sound less than interested.

     "I can't tell you." He said, mimicking my coyness "I promised."

     "It's you."

     The dumbfounded look on his face confirmed my suspicion. My friend had just become my new arch nemesis and the ball was now in my court. "In that case, I do know who your competition is. . ."

     "Who?!" He asked desperately.

     "You know that guy who was wearing yellow Mizzou hoodie?"

     "Yes!"

     "Well, it's definitely not him."

      This conversation lasted almost all night and resumed again in the morning. He'd ask me if it was one certain person, and then I'd say no. It was almost time to go home on the last day when he finally said, "It's you isn't it! You lied!"

     "Yeah." I said, and got in my parent's car.

     "'Yeah', what?" my dad asked as we began our three hour drive home.

     "Nothing. . ."

     You know, I never saw Tommy again. I was the only one of us to hold true to the Popcorn Kernel of Truth. But in the end, it didn't really matter. Life has a way of throwing you curve balls that you never expect or see coming. I let my crush on Kayla get in the way of what might have been a good friendship. A friendship ruined by a crush that wouldn't last. . .

"Muffins"

For the first time in three months, I was happy again. Three months of beating myself up for being a coward. For being a moron. All that dissipated when I saw her. The Girl the Blue Hoodie. The mysterious new "girl of my dreams" (you'll probably hear that phrase a lot in the coming posts.) In a blink of an eye, I was over it all. I no longer dwelt on my screw-up with Erin. All I could think about now was finding the identity of the Girl in the Blue Hoodie.

     I first met her at Camp Heritage (a Seventh-Day Adventist youth summer camp) during a game of "Cat and Mouse." And after that, I devoted the rest of that weekend to my own game of Cat and Mouse. I the cat and she the mouse. (You know what? I just realized how creepy that sounded.) Let me rephrase that: I devoted the rest of that weekend to "Operation Get-the-Girl 2?" Ahhh yes, that's better.

     I kept an eye out for her as the weekend's festivities rolled on. I looked and looked, but never once saw a glimpse of her. I didn't see her again until the final night. The final day they showed a movie for all of the campers. It was called, "Facing the Giants" (a movie about a highschool football team.) But I wasn't paying attention to the movie, because as I sat down next to my friend Tommy (another camper) I saw, sitting next to us, The Girl in the Blue Hoodie. My heart stopped. Now was my chance. My chance to truly meet the blue-hooded girl.

     Tommy was already talking to her and introduced me and we all hit it off right away. The Girl in the Blue Hoodie's name was Kayla and we talked through the whole movie. We talked about our different likes and dislikes, during which I found out that Kayla loved muffins. I don't think I stress that enough. She LOVED muffins with a burning passion that consumed her soul. I remembered having seen a basket of muffins by the popcorn earlier, so I sneaked off to get one. I crept back and gently laid the muffin by her hand. I don't know if she ever noticed it and ate it or not, but after that, I called her "Muffins."

     After the movie ended and we all had to return to our cabins, Kayla made us swear that we'd all see each other again. As I began to say, "I swear!" a little piece of popcorn flew out of my mouth. I looked down at the popcorn kernel  and back up at my new friend and said, "I swear on the popcorn kernel of truth!" Let me tell you, the popcorn kernel of truth is binding! I was the only one between Tommy and me to keep that promise.

     It was a promise I was happy to keep, too. I remember leaving the building and heading back to the cabin and thinking to myself, "Someday, I'm going to marry that girl. And I'll have the best 'how I met your mother story ever!'" Little did I know how misguided I was. . .

The Girl in the Blue Hoodie

In the winter of 2007 I had just screwed up my only chance with, who I thought was, the girl of my dreams. I was kicking myself the rest of that winter (not literally, that would be inconvenient.) I got really down in the dumps about it. It wasn't just that I had screwed up any potential romantic relationship with her, but I completely obliterated our friendship. The lesson I took from that was that it is better to never love than lose a friend. I thought I'd feel that way forever. I felt like I'd die alone (that may still happen, but that is beside the point.) Little did I know how quickly I'd get over this.

     It was my first time going to summer camp. Technically it wasn't "summer" camp because I was staying for a special weekend in March of 2008. But it was my first time at camp all the same. It was called Camp Heritage, and that is where I met the Girl in the Blue Hoodie.

     The camp director had arranged some group activities to break the ice among the campers. The most memorable was called "Cat & Mouse." Basically the way you played the game was, each guy would link arms with a girl and one guy and one girl were left unattached and tried to tag one another. If the one being chased was able to get to someone of the opposite sex and link arms with them, the person currently linked to that individual would have to let go and run.

     Being rather antisocial, I didn't want to play this game. I shied over into a corner, hoping not to be noticed. No such luck. The camp director found me and brought me to the middle of the room and that is when I saw her. The only girl not currently attached to anyone's arm. The girl I had the privilege to link arms with. She was the most beautiful girl my young eyes had seen. She had sandy brown hair that fell just slightly past her shoulders and she wore an unassuming, blue hoodie. The look on her face indicated she was just as apprehensive about this game as I was.

     We linked arms and the game began, but I wasn't paying attention to the game. I was too preoccupied with the girl on my arm to give a crap about that stupid game. For the first time since Christmas, I was truly happy. But all good things come to an end. Inevitably, another girl ran up and hooked onto my arm, and with that, the she was gone, lost in the madness of Cat & Mouse. It was then that I knew I had to spend the rest of that weekend finding the identity of the Girl in the Blue Hoodie. . .

To Be Continued. . .

Hey! You've Got to Hide Your Love Away!

There I stood, shaking like a leaf. There was no going back now. The note was in her hands and soon she would know what I had been longing to tell her for so long. So why was I so scared? I should be happy, right? WRONG! There is nothing more humiliating and embarrassing than rejection. It is the scariest thing a man can face. I'd rather fight a legion of dragons than go through a moment like that again (come to think of it, my references to dragons may be the reason why I'm still single.)

     That antagonizing wait became too much and I left the room before she had even read the note. Though I feel very bad about it now, I even avoided her the rest of the night. I couldn't even face her at my piano lessons or anytime after that. We used to hang out after my lessons, but now I would leave right after. The worst part was, I still hadn't gotten her response.

     It was almost four weeks later before we really talked to each other beyond pleasantries. We talked a little bit about some meaningless stuff that I can't remember and then she said, "I read your note."

     My throat tightened to where I could barely breathe. What was she going to say? Did I freak her out? Does she hate me? All I could respond with was, "Uh, huh."

      She was about to say something when I heard my mom say, "Okay, Nash. It's time to go." You'd think I would have learned my lesson at this point and stayed long enough to hear what she had to say, but you'd be wrong in thinking that. I didn't stay. Like a coward, I left and we never really talked again.

     Only a few weeks after that, I quit piano lessons and our friendship completely fell apart. Don't worry, I did learn a lesson from this experience, but not the right one. I should have learned to have courage and take things like a man, but I didn't. The lesson I learned was was this: It's better to never experience love than to experience fear. Like the Beatles song, I learned to hide my love away. I would rather bottle up my feelings than loose a friend. This was the wrong lesson to learn and it took many years to unlearn. As a matter of fact, I'm still unlearning it. . .

End of Pt. I

To be Continued in Pt. II 

The Plot Thickens

In the Winter of 2007, Operation "Get-the-Girl" took effect. The week before Christmas and after my piano recital, I would finally reveal my feelings to Erin. My sister and I had it all planned out. I would get her a nice gift with a card, and in the card I would write my feelings. All that was left was to find a nice gift.

     Remember last time how I said I was an idiot? Here's why. When we were puzzling about what
to get her I said, "I don't know, what if we get her a gift card, or money, or something? That way she can get whatever she wants."

     Thank goodness for my sister. If it weren't for her, I would've made a fool of myself. My sister gave me a look of astonishment and said, "What, are you her uncle or something? You can't give her a gift card!"

     So the search for the perfect gift went on. . . and on. . . and on. . . It was getting closer and closer to Christmas and we hadn't decided on anything yet. Finally, out of desperation, we decided to give her a charm bracelet. With this out of the way it was time for the second faze: Writing the note.

     This faze, as simple as it may seem, was harder than the first faze. Heck, it was almost as hard as giving her the note. I just didn't know what to write. After three long years of fantasizing about what I would say, I still couldn't figure it out. It took the whole time, from when we got the gift to the day I gave her the note, to figure out what to say. And all it said was this:

Dear Erin,

I just wanted you to know, I love you.

                                           

                                            Nash

     Finally, everything was prepared.

     The night finally came. Date: Tuesday, December 18th, 2007. Time: 7:00 p.m. Place: Hume Christian Church, my piano recital. Thus began the third and final faze. The faze I dubbed "Suicide."

     The night was bad enough without Operation "Get-the-Girl" looming over my head. I was already about to piss my pants worrying about my recital piece, but the added fear of what I had to do afterward almost gave me a premature heart-attack. Luckily, I made it though my piano piece just fine. Now it was on to the hard part.

     What happened next was the most terrifying moment of my early teen years. At the reception after the recital, I asked Erin over to a quiet room and gave her the gift. My heart was pounding so hard, I swear she could've heard it. After she had opened the gift, I handed her the note. Now my hands were sweating. As she began to open the note I lost my nerve and left the room. . .

To Be Continued. . .

Operation "Get-the-Girl"

In the fall of 2004, I thought I was in love. At least, as much in love as a ten-year-old can comprehend (which isn't that deep,) but I was infatuated at any rate. To be honest, back then I didn't care what it was, crush or true love, I just knew I liked her and I wanted her to know it.

     Some people may disagree with this next statement (mostly my sisters would,) but when I was a kid, I was pretty shy. At least, I was shy around girls (some things never change.) As much as I wanted to tell her how I felt, I just couldn't. That's why I thank God for Hope, my sister. Or maybe I should be blaming God for Hope, but that's beside the point. She helped me get over my fear, and eventually tell Erin. . . Sort of. . .

     I am going to preface the entirety of the next several blogs by saying, I am an idiot. Especially at that age (again, some things never change.) With that said, I will proceed in recounting the execution of Operation "Get-the-Girl": A covert operation to. . . Well. . . Get the girl.

     Operation "Get-the-Girl" was over three years in the making. But that was mainly because I was to afraid to put it into action. But thanks to my sister, I eventually did.

     My sister, Hope, is one of my best friends and one of the first people I told about Erin. And then, like any typical older sister, she kept badgering me about when I was going to tell Erin how I felt. I would often say something like, "Oh, I'm just picking my moment," or "Oh, I want to wait until I'm a little older," or "I'm just too friggin' terrified to do that!" To which she would, without fail reply, "If you don't act soon, someone else will!"

      Finally, in the Winter of 2007 when I was thirteen-years-old, Operation "Get-the-girl" took effect. We planned it around Christmas of that year. I would give her a nice gift with a card. In the card I would finally reveal my feelings for her. On paper, it sounds like a good plan. In execution, however, not so much. . .

To Be Continued

People are Dillholes

According to statistics that I made up for this blog post, 98.9% of people are dillholes. The other 1.1% are cats - because we all know cats are people too. At this point, you are probably wondering, "what does this have to do with how you met my ex-girlfriend? Is there some point to this?" Well, as I've said before, around 2004 I developed my first crush on a girl named Erin. I couldn't tell many people because I was afraid that my parents would freak out. But I did tell a few friends. . .

     Unfortunately, I was the first out of my friends to start liking girls. Or at least I was the first to admit it. So after I told my friends, they became what I like to call "dillholes." "What is a dillhole," you ask? According to the urban dictionary a dillhole is: a term often used on That 70's Show. A phrase some person uses to describe another as a: dickhole. Only this is not as vulgar as the word "dickhole." My "friends" liked to make fun of me because I didn't share their view that girls were icky. So, they were dillholes.

     For instance, when I was about 12-years-old, I went out to eat with my sister, +Bailey Mills and her church friends. With them was one of my friends, Matt. I didn't ever see him much and Bailey already knew, so who was he going to tell? So I told him I had a crush on a girl. . . and he couldn't stop laughing. . . all night. . .

     Joe and Caja - my best friends in elementary school - made fun of me saying that Erin was "ugly" or "a girl." The second one was true, but I disagreed with them first one. . . at least I hope the second one was true.

     But eventually this age would end. One by one more and more of my friends would "come out of the closet" and admit that they liked girls - well, that is except Jeremy, but we don't talk about that. It even came to the point where we stopped playing imaginary games about fighting dragons and spent our time just talking about the girls we liked.

     I guess what I am saying is that this blog entry was absolutely pointless and in no way effects the rest of the story. I bet you want your five minutes back, now don't you. . .

Girls Have Cooties

My quest began three months ago when I held my baby niece, the Chunky Monkey Jelly Bean, for the first time. However, that doesn't mean I wasn't chasing girls before that. I crawled out of the womb with a lady on each arm, my first words were, "Hey, ladies. Can I buy you a drink?" and it was rare to find me without my face planted on a boob.

     Well, that wasn't exactly true. In all honesty, I was your average child. I was born like any other child, my first words were probably something like, "momma" or "dada," and like any other child, there was a five to ten year span where I thought girls were icky. Though my face on a boob was pretty accurate (What? I was hungry. . .) Eventually my opinion of girls would mature. That happened at about eight-years-old, but I wouldn't like a specific girl until I was about ten.

     In the Autumn of 2004 I began taking piano lessons from a friend of my mom's. I wasn't the best piano student in the world. As a matter of fact, I was probably the worst she ever had. Not because I was bad at it, not at all - I am a very musical person who can play a wide variety of instruments - it was because I didn't take it seriously. I never practiced or learned anything (seriously, to this day I don't know how to read sheet music) and I thought it was cool to do so. "Why?" you might ask. Because I had a crush on my piano teacher's daughter and I was trying to impress her (a word of advice. Being a jackass is not the way to impress a girl. It doesn't matter how old you are.) Anyway, her name was Erin and, at the time, she was the only thing I could think about. I hated piano lessons and she was the only reason why I enjoyed going to them.

     Up until this point she had just been my best friend. We'd known each other since we were both crawling on all fours. But now she was something more to me. In my ten-year-old head, I thought I was in love. I told almost no one, though everyone probably knew. My sisters knew and some of my friends, but I refused to tell my parents. It was embarrassing to tell them and my mom had said many times, "No dating until you are at least sixteen." Regardless, I thought I was in love, so thus began "Operation Get-a-girl." A covert operation to. . . well. . . get the girl.

I'm The Crazy Uncle Everybody Warns You About. . .

Welcome back to the story of how I met your ex-girlfriend. And what better way is there to continue the story, but by going back to the beginning:

     In the late summer of 1994, I was born. Ever since then I have been chasing after girls. . . Well, maybe that's going back a bit too far. In all actuality, my quest officially began three months ago when something very big impacted the lives of our family. My sister had a baby.

     Let me preface this blog post by saying, I don't like little kids. I hate them more than Red Necks hate Gays. I hate them more than Robin Scherbatsky hates kids (Hey, what did you expect, this is called How I Met Your Ex-Girlfriend, of course I'd make a How I Met Your Mother reference). So it was no surprise that when my sister told me she was pregnant, I was more excited to have the title "Uncle" than to actually be an uncle. She even made me a T-shirt that said "World's Greatest Uncle" on it. As cool as that was, the idea of a little nephew or niece freaked me out. Of course, I was sure I would get used to it and even learn to love my little niece or nephew, but at the time all I could think was, "Gross, my sister had sex."

     My sister +Bailey Mills - author of the Geeky, Artsy, Mommy blog - had her baby daughter in April of 2013. The first time I saw my little niece was the first time I'd seen a human that tiny. It was a moment of disbelief for me. All I could think of when I saw her was, "My sister made that lizard?!"

     About two weeks later I saw little Jelly Bean again and held her for the first time. I was freaked out and looked like a deer in the headlights.                                                                                             

     As scary as it was, it got me thinking. What am I doing with my life? Both my sisters were married by the time they were in there 20's and here I am at 18 and I haven't ever had a girlfriend. All I do is go to work 3 days a week and do nothing on the other days. I don't want to end up a crazy cat dude (even though I would love nothing more than to have a bunch of cats). So I decided that I was going to find a woman. I was officially on my quest to find your ex-girlfriend.

     Don't worry, I did warm up to Jelly Bean a little, but I still get really mad when her mom wipes her drool on my or arm changes her diaper on my bed (I mean really? Pad or no pad, that's disgusting). And that is the story of how my niece sent me on my quest.

How I Met Your Ex-Girlfriend

This is the story of how I met your ex-girlfriend. Well, maybe not your ex-girlfriend, but statistically she is someone's ex-girlfriend. Technically I haven't met her yet, maybe you haven't even met her yet (if so, hands off), or maybe you are dating her right now. I'm going to tell you the story of how I meet my future wife. I don't know how this story ends, I'm just telling it as I go along.

    

     First off, let me give you a little background. I am an eighteen-year-old young man who - up until this point - has never had a girlfriend, nor can get a girl to give me so much as a sideways glance. I hardly blame them, though. I'm not the most attractive person in the world and I'm kind of a dork. I love Star Wars, Lego, video games, and I love Lego Star Wars the video game.

     It's not all on the girls' end though, I am always too afraid to talk to them. If I ever do get up the nerve to say "Hello" to a girl, I am almost immediately "friend zoned." Doubtlessly all you guys know exactly what the dreaded "friend zone" is. Unfortunately it seems like a lot of girls don't know what this is. It is Hell, plain and simple. You've heard the term "have your cake and eat it too"? Well the "friend zone" is the exact opposite. You get to have your cake, but it is just out of arm's reach and you are strapped to your chair. And if she has a boyfriend, it's like watching someone else eat your cake.

     Granted, I have gained a lot of great friends out of being in the "friend zone," but consequently all of my friends and acquaintances are all girls. There is Jess (one of my closest friends and long time neighbor), Katie (Jess' sister), Erin (my childhood best friend and first crush), Kayla (my second crush), Jill (my best friend ever), and Rashaell.

     Maybe one of these girls is your ex-girlfriend, maybe not. Only time will tell. Maybe I haven't met your ex yet. But when I do, you'll know because you'll see it here. I guess what I am trying to say is that every week for the next couple of years (hopefully) I will take you on the journey of how your ex-girlfriend will become my wife. Be prepared, I'm coming...