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. . .