Birthday

It was the day of my niece's first Birthday. One years since this all began. I had another dream about Ashlee, only this time it was 50,000,000,000 times more embarrassing than the first one. It was too embarrassing to tell anyone and far to embarrassing to write in words, so I'll just say I was getting seriously freaked out and just leave it at that.

     Anyway, as I said it was my niece's first Birthday and I was riding up to the party with my sister (to clarify, I was riding with my sister, Hope, not the my niece's mother, Bailey.) On the way up, I told Hope about the dream (The first dream, not the second one. I left all that out.) She, of course, thinks it to be absolutely hilarious. "You know what I think?" she says laughing.

     "Do I really want to know?" I ask.

     "I think that you subconsciously like her." She says trying really hard not to pee her pants.

     "That's not the first time someone has said that, and this isn't the first time I will say 'HEYULL NO!'" But in all honesty, that wasn't entirely accurate. I was too afraid to admit it out loud, and even more afraid to admit it to myself.

     You know those birthday parties that are just so uncomfortable to be at, but the kid is having fun so you stay anyway? This wasn't one of those parties. It was uncomfortable to be sure, but the kid was too young to really be having fun, but since she was my niece, we had to stay anyway. Being the antisocial people we are, my sister (Hope) and I found a quiet corner where there wasn't someone we didn't know (and believe me, that was a hard job) and began quietly mocking the other guests. Eventually I said, "I don't subconsciously like her."

     "Okay, I was only kidding." She said.

     "The truth is that I consciously like her." There it was, I finally admitted it. It was painful to say, but it was true.

     "So? What are you going to do about it?"

     "Nothing." I said.

     "Nothing? Doing nothing is why you're 19 and have never been on a date in your life. You keep falling for these girls, do nothing about it, and then complain about not having a girlfriend. You need to stop being afraid and just ask her out."

     "It's not that I'm afraid," I replied, "it's just that after all this time, the one thing I've learned - or at least should have learned -  is to identify a lost cause when I see it. Even if I did as her out, and provided she doesn't punch me in the face, it would never last. We're too. . . different. I don't even know if I truly like her, I just think I'm really confused about everything right now. For the first time in years, I'm not chasing after anyone. The only girl I can truly say I cared about is gone, and now my heart's all confused."

     After saying that out loud, I guess I reached some sort of clarity about the situation because I never had any more problems with weird dreams about Ashlee. Though it didn't really apply to the situation, what my sister said did help because it wouldn't be long before I got over my fears and actually did ask a girl out. But that's another story.

My Future Arch Enemy

Let's rewind. September 16th, 2010, my second day of work. It was the first night shift I had ever worked. My first day was an 8 am to 2 pm shift, but my second day would have me working as late as 9:30. There were many more people around my age working that shift, so I felt a little more at home. One of these coworkers was Ashlee. At the time, she wasn't my arch nemesis. Actually it was quite opposite, I actually thought she was kinda cute.

     That was extremely hard to admit, but it was true. I don't think I had ever met someone who was so opposite of me in appearance, but so similar in character. I stand at 6 feet fully erect, however, standing on her tippy toes, Ashlee is only about 5 feet. I weigh just over 200 lbs, Ashlee hasn't broken the 100 lb mark in her entire 20 years of existence. Personality wise, we are almost the same person. We are snarky, sarcastic, and overall jerk to everyone we know (and to each other.) A few people actually took to calling her Nashlee behind her back. Or maybe they were calling me that. Who knows.

     I really don't know what started our rivalry. We got along really well at first, but after a while we started a rivalry that lasted almost 4 years. Our abrasive personalities probably played a large role given that we took to mocking each other. Some examples are as follows:

One of my favorite things to mock her about was her size. Most notably her shortness, but occasionally I would mock her thinness, too. I heard her talking to Emma about how she gained 3 lbs over Thanksgiving and how she felt fat. I said, "How much can you possibly weigh?"

"I weigh 97 pounds." She said angrily.

"Wait, so you weighed 94 pounds before the Holidays?"

"Nice math skills," she said sarcastically, "maybe you should be a. . . um. . . one of those guys who do taxes."

 "An accountant? Nice language skills. Anyway that is an unhealthy weight. You are 17 years-old, have you ever even broken 100 pounds?"

"No," she said, "and that isn't an unhealthy weight."

"Are you kidding? You look like a two-by-four sawed off at the 3 foot mark."

"Are you trying to say I'm flat chested?"

"Well, I was just saying that you are really thin and short, but if I'm being honest, I can't help but notice that I'm a guy and I still have better boobs than you."

"You have better boobs than everyone."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I choose to accept it as one."

Later I took to comparing her to the devil:

One day, after parking next to her (because that bugs her), I noticed she had a Jesus fish on her bumper. I walked up to her and said, "Did you guy your car used?"

"Yeah," she said, "How'd you know?"

"I saw that your car had a Jesus fish on the bumper and that had me confused because I didn't think you could go within 15 feet of a church without catching on fire."

"Very funny."

Even though we were always at each other's throats, it always seemed more like we were having fun with it rather than actually being hostile, so I don't know why I started hating her. And I also wonder if I ever did.

I Hate Everything about You

I woke up with a start. I was relieved that what I had just witnessed was no more than a dream, though when I was dreaming, it seemed so real. Only two other dreams had been so real and vivid. The first occurred when I was only 6 years-old. I dreamed that my family and I went on vacation, but while we were away, the woods across from my house caught fire. The fire was spreading fast and wild, so logically the military was brought in (that is, logical in the mind of a 6 year-old.) To put out the fire they began shooting it with their machine guns (yeah, like I said, "logical.") And just the second before I woke up I saw a bald man's hair catch on fire. . . The second dream was just about as weird. I was 11 and I dreamed that I was attacked and eaten by a creature made completely of cottage cheese. As preposterous as that sounds, it felt real to me. I could even feel the individual curds of cheese before I woke up. As vivid as these two dreams were, they didn't hold a candle to how real my nightmare was.

     Generally I would have just brushed the whole thing off as "just a dream" and been fine with it. However, I have a rather superstitious side - well maybe not superstitious, maybe a little sticious. I had been having dreams of late that had been coming true. For instance, I dreamed one night that my church's pastor was going to leave and preach somewhere else. The next morning, he calls my dad to tell him that he is moving to Iowa to preach there. I once dreamed that my friend, Jess, began dating a guy with a stupid goatee. A year later she began dating a guy with a stupid goatee. Now, I'm not one to believe in precognition, but the fact that the other dreams came true made me feel a little uneasy. It made the possibility of my nightmare coming to life a little more realistic. That was almost scarier than the dream was.

     The next day at work, Ashlee came up to me and said, "Stop parking next to me! I know you do it just to annoy me."

     "Ashlee," I said, "I still don't know why that annoys you, but I didn't park next to you. I've been working for the past four hours and you just got here. You parked next to me."

     "Jeez, Nash, I was just messing with you. You don't need to be such a stick in the mud."

     "Whatever," I say.

     "What, no comeback?" She asks as I begin to walk out the door.

     About a half hour later, Emma says, "Ashlee says you are acting weird. I told her, 'How is that any different than usual?'"

     "That's pretty funny," I said, "no, but I had a really disturbing dream involving her the other night." A look of fear and worry came over Emma's face. "I dreamed that she and I were married." The look on her face was quickly replaced by a cheesy grin and she began to laugh with a hearty "BAHAHA!"

     "Yeah, real funny," I said, "but it scared the crap outta me."

     "I think you are secretly in love with her." She said still laughing.

     "I would rather rip my own finger nails out with pliers."

     "You like her and you know it."

     Oh, God I hope not. . .

Nightmare

I find myself sitting in a pitch black room. Whatever I'm sitting on is hard and cold like furnished wood. The air around me is warm and stuffy. I reach my arms out in front of me and touch something else cold had hard. I reach my arms out to my sides feeling some kind of fabric. "Where am I?" I think to myself. Just then I am blinded by an intense, white light.

     I throw my hands up over my eyes to shield them, but the light begins to dim. I can see now. I can see everything around me. I am in a large room. The cold hard thing I am sitting on is a church pew. There are at least twenty rows of them, from the front of the church to the back. And that is only on my side, the other side of the isle has twenty more rows of pews. The fabric I felt was the suits worn by the people sitting around me. There are dozens of people, all dressed in suits and dresses. I look up to the front of the church where the pulpit is and see several more well-dressed people. There are five men and three women. The women are all wearing matching green dresses and all stand in a row on the left side of the pulpit. On the right side of the pulpit stand four out of the five men, all wearing tuxes. The fifth man stands behind the pulpit and wears the garb of a reverend.

     I begin to recognize some of the people. In the crowd, I see both my sisters and parents. I also spot Jessica, Katie and Wyatt. Not to far from where I am sitting is their cousin Jill. I see some of my relatives like my aunts and uncles that I haven't seen in years. I look across the isle and see a mass of people I don't recognize. The only faces I can pick out over there are a few work associates and one of my bosses. Everyone else over there are people I have never seen before.

     I look up at the pulpit again and notice that I recognize many faces up there, too. The man furthest to the right is my old friend Caja. Moving further left, I see his brother Joe. One place to the left of him is Landon. I don't recognize two of the women on the left, but the third I knew as Emma - another work associate. I then look at the man standing closest to the reverend and what I see shocks me. Standing before me is none other than myself. This event is my wedding.

     Just then the doors at the back of the church swing open and the organ begins to play. A woman dressed in all black - oddly enough - makes her way down the isle. Her identity is concealed behind a dark veil. She walks up to the reverend and faces me - the fine dressed me - across the alter. Her veil is lifted and to my horror, the face belongs to Ashlee.

     I stand up quickly from my seat and shout, "No! Don't do this! You hate her! You are making a huge mistake!" But I can't hear me. No one can hear me. I just stand at the alter with a stupid grin on my face. I keep yelling, but to no avail. I see Ashlee's lips moving and then mine. I can't hear what we are saying due to my shouting at myself, but I know they are wedding vows. "Stop!" I keep yelling, "Stop! Stop! Stop! This is a huge mistake!" Still no one can hear me. I rush towards the pulpit where the groom version of me is about to kiss Ashlee. "No!" I continue to shout, but I am too late. We kiss. There is applause. The organ begins playing again. I wake up. . .

Fine Again

I'm not going to lie, just because Rashaell was gone didn't mean that all the feelings were, too. As much as I wanted to forget and move on, it was just not that easy for me to do. I began to let myself slip into a sea of sorrow that - as I knew from experience - would be nearly impossible to escape from.

     By all appearances, I was fine. Some people expected another Summer of Darkness situation to emerge, but this time I had things under control. I wasn't some kind of over emotional pre-teen anymore. I was a man, and it was time to do what men do with their emotions: never let them see the light of day.

     As much as I tried to bury it, I couldn't escape the sadness I felt at her not being here anymore. The best I could do was keep it all to myself, but even that sometimes proved to be difficult. Of course it didn't help that I had to work every day in an environment that reminded me of her. One day at work, Emma asked, "What's wrong with you? You keep spacing out."

     "Does it seem darker here to you?" I replied.

     "Not really, why?"

     "Because, everything right and good about this hell-hole is gone now."

     That night I went to bed feeling sad and alone. Regretting every decision I had ever made leading up to this point. I couldn't sleep. I was too angry with myself to allow sleep to take me. I was angry with myself for falling into the same trap that I had fallen into time and time again. Why did I have to have feelings? They just complicate things and make my life miserable. Eventually I drifted off to sleep, but when I woke up everything was different. Everything I had felt the night before and weeks before that was gone. I was fine again and not because of some epiphany or realization, but just because I decided to be. It was that easy. I chose to fine, and fine I would be. I had wasted too much time on one hopeless cause. It was time for me to get back out there, and this time not make the stupid mistakes I had before. No more pining over one unattainable girl. I was getting out there. So find a place to hide, ladies, 'cause daddy's home. (Yes I realize how creepy that sounded. It's a HIMYM reference, so get over it.)

One Day Remains

Time remaining: 7 hours



The day had come. It was August 25th and Rashaell's last day of work before heading off to college. It was my last chance to find the deal breaker before she left. I had been struggling to find something, anything that would set me free of my feelings for her, but with no luck. I had to find something before she left or I might not ever be able to get over it. The usual deal breakers didn't seem to work. I hate Country music and that is most of what she listened to, but for some reason that didn't effect anything. I am a cat lover and she hates cats, but that also didn't seem to make a difference. Those two things were almost always deal breakers for me before, but no such luck now. But what she did next made the search even harder than it was before.

     At Country Mart, the employee working at the service desk would make up a daily schedule with everyone's names on it that were working that day. It would have the first name of the employee, the position they were working, the time they were supposed to be there, and the time they were supposed to leave. For the fun of it, I had started writing "is awesome" behind my name every shift that I worked, so every day it said, "Nash is awesome." However, on that final day when I went over to write it on the schedule, I found that Rashaell had already written it behind my name. It felt like the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. I did , however, realize that this would make it nearly impossible to find a deal breaker now. If I could find one, it would have to be pretty major. My pin still in hand, I wrote, "is pretty friggin' awesome, too" behind her name.

Time remaining: 3 hours

Later that day, I asked Rash, "So, why did you choose Architecture as a college major?"

     "I always liked the introductory class I took in high school. Also, I always wanted to design my own house."

     "Well," I replied, "make sure to make it large enough for the ten kids you will have."

     "Another Catholic joke, I presume." She said.

     " You got that right. I had to throw at least one more in there before you leave."

     "Well, I'm not ever going to get married," she said, "so I won't have to worry about the kid aspect." There it was, the deal breaker I had been looking for. I have to admit, it did make me quite sad, but it was something I would never be able to get past. She never wanted to get married and finding someone to settle down with was all I ever wanted. There it was, the deal breaker.

     Just out of curiosity, I felt compelled to ask, "What makes you say that?"

     "Everyone in my church and in my family expect you to start shooting out babies the second you get married and end up having ten million kids."

     "The stereotype I just joked about."

     "Yes," she replied, "but I hate kids. So, to avoid scrutiny that is sure to come, I have just decided never to get married."

     "Does your boyfriend know this?"

     "We haven't really discussed it."

     "Well, this is going to be very hard for me to say, given that I hate his guts and he is, besides Ashlee, my worst enemy. But if I were in his place, I would want to know something like that. He may want to get married some day. It isn't fair to him for you to waste his time like that. You need to talk about this, otherwise someday he will propose to you, you will say no, and there will be nothing left between you two but bitterness."

     "And you know this, how?"

     "Partially because I'm psychic. Also, stuff like that happens on TV on a weekly basis."

Time remaining: 5 minutes

T-minus 5 minutes. 5 minutes before my shift ended and I would be forced to say goodbye to Rash. I began walking to the time clock, thinking maybe I would slip away and not even say goodbye. However, as much as I hate goodbyes, I couldn't do it. I walked back to her register. 

     "Hey," I said, but then paused. I was trying to figure out something to say. I didn't want to just say "goodbye," I wanted to say something that would stick, something profound. I wanted to give her a goodbye like you could only find in the movies. And just like that, I had the perfect goodbye. "You shouldn't let your family or church's idea of child baring dictate whether you get married or not. Someday you are going to meet someone who changes your whole idea of what marriage is. You will want nothing more than to be with that person forever. It wasn't that long ago that I too never wanted to get married, but now it's all I want."

     "So, I'm guessing you've already met that someone?"

     I looked at her for a second, then said, "Yeah, I think I have."

     Then, with a start, I realized I had been daydreaming. "Hey, what?" Rashaell asked.

     "What?" I returned.

     "You walked up here and said, 'Hey' and then proceeded to stand there looking like an idiot."

     I thought for a second, contemplating what I should say. "F*ck it," I said, "see ya."

End of part III

To be continued in part IV  

Countdown to Extinction

Time remaining: 24 days.

It's August 2nd and I'm getting ready to leave work, but first I take a short detour to say goodbye to Rashaell. "Have a good weekend," I say.

     "*phhht* fat chance," she says, "I have to work all weekend."

     "That sucks. Well, I guess I'll see you next Thursday."

     "Oh! Did you hear?" she says, "My days here are numbered."

     I know what she says is true. I have been dreading the day I have to say goodbye for weeks. "Oh?" I replied, "So you're heading off to college?"

     "Yeah. On the 25th."

     I make a sad face by pushing out my lower lip. Although the look was obviously meant to be fake, the emotion behind it was real. "Well, we'll miss you." And then I walk out.

Time remaining: 18 days.

     My arch nemesis, Ashlee, walks up. "Hey, Looser," she says.

     "Hey, Demon Spawn," I return.

     "I bet you think you're real funny, don't you."

     "Oh, I know I am. I'm the funniest damn guy you'll ever meet. You just don't know it yet."

     "You should be a stand up comedian," she says rolling her eyes.

     "I am on the weekends."

     "Bullsh*t."

     "You have no way of knowing that, now do you? By the way, that bit about you being Satan? It kills at the club every time."

     "Shut up!"

     "You started it."

     "Great! Now you made me forget what I came over here to mock you about."

     "I'm sure it'll come to you."

     "OH! I got it." She says after a while, "So, how does it feel to know that the girl you've been after for the past two years is leaving forever in a couple weeks?"

     "How do you know about that?"

     "Girls talk."

     "She told you? Why? She hates you as much as I do."

     "No, Emma did. Wait. She knows?"

     "Sort of, I told her last May."

     "Sort of?"

     "Well, she thinks I'm over it."

     "You totally aren't."

     "Yeah, but she can't ever know that."

     "Don't be so dramatic. If you aren't going to tell her, then I will." She walks away leaving me with the feeling that I had been in this situation before.

Time remaining: 6 days.

     I walk up to the register where Rashaell is working. I wait for her to have a free minute and say, "Before I leave, I just wanted to say happy birthday, Rash-e-poo." She laughs and I walk toward the door. However, before I get there, the ever annoying voice of my arch nemesis says, "Why did you call her 'Rash-e-poo?'"

     "It's a little joke," I said, "people here have been calling me 'Nash-e-poo' and my nick name for her is 'Rash,' which is basically just my name with an 'R' instead of an 'N.' So, I call her 'Rash-e-poo' as a joke."

     "Well, if you keep calling her that, her boyfriend is likely to get mad and beat you up."

     "He's only 4' 2'', so I'm not too intimidated. Also, his face looks like that of an ape, so it's not like I can mess it up any more if I end up beating him up if he attacks me, because like I said before, he's a little midget ape man."

     "Hey, my birthday today." She began indignantly, "Her's was yesterday. Why haven't you wished me a happy birthday yet?"

     "You mean you didn't get the flaming bag of dog crap I left for you? It even had a card."

     "Funny."

     "Thank you."

     "You know," she said mischievously, "I have a great gift for Rashaell. But you can't tell. . ." she leans over, "it's a secret, if you know what I mean."

     "I swear, Ashlee, if you speak a word to her of what we talked about last week, I will kick you so hard you'll be singing soprano."

     "First off, I'm a woman. Also, the joke's on you, because it was two weeks ago that we talked."

     "A week-and-a-half."

     "That's still not last week." She said, "Anyway, why is it so important that she not know?"

     "Because I don't want to like her the way I do. I thought that telling her might help, but it only made the problem worse. I can't let her leave here before I am over this, otherwise I may never get over it. That's why this week I have to find something about her that is a total deal breaker to me."

     "Well, I know she likes Country music and hates cats. Don't you love cat's and hate Country music?"

     "I've already tried that angle. Usually that would be a total deal breaker, but for some reason, it didn't matter that much."

     "Have you ever considered that she might be your soul mate?"

     "Since when do you believe in soul mates?"

     "True. If it is that important, I won't say anything."

     "Thanks." I finally began walking out the door, but before I did, I turned around. "Hey, Ash," I said, "happy birthday."

One Day Remains. . .

Business as Usual

I was dreading work on May 31, 2013. The day before I had told Rashaell how I felt about her and now I had to work with her again. Admittedly, it wasn't my brightest plan to tell her when I did, but I was afraid I would chicken out if I waited much longer. I was seriously considering calling in sick to work that day, but I went anyway. I couldn't just use my courage once and put it back on the shelf like a ball glove. I needed to break it in, use it more.

     I braced myself for the most awkward day of work ever. On a side note, how awkward is the word
"awkward" anyway? It feels awkward coming off your lips, it's awkward to type, it's just an awkward word all the way around. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, so I was bracing myself for a weird day. Another side note: "weird" is kind of weird word as well. Not only is it kind of weird to say, but it violates the "I before E except after C" rule. "Their" does that, too. And while I'm at it, what's up with the word "lisp?" Did whoever made up that word want people with lisps not to be able to say what they have? Along the same lines, I think they should spell "dyslexia," sexdyslia so that dyslexics can know what they have. Also saying "dyslexia" is probably hard for people with lisps. So, what was I talking about? Crap! Now I have to read the last paragraph all over again. . . *reading* *reading* *reading* Oh yeah, so I was getting ready for the sure awkwardness to come (by the way, did I mention how awkward the word "awkward is?)

     Luckily, our shifts only overlapped for one hour, but I was expecting it to be the most uncomfortable hour of my life. But here's the kicker: It wasn't. Admittedly, at first I felt a bit awkward. I didn't even say anything to her for about 5 minutes. But after a little bit, she said,"So, how's you're day?"

     To this day, I don't know why I said this, but I said, "Have you ever noticed how awkward the word "awkward" is?"

     "Do you think this is awkward?" She asked.

     "A little." I admitted.

     "It's only awkward if you let it." I couldn't help but think about how well she was taking the whole thing. She didn't even skip a beat. It was business as usual for her. For some strange reason, she was still making an effort to be my friend. If it had been any other girl I knew, she would have run for the hills, shut me out, or mocked me. I did feel a little sad being in the "friend zone" but I had made it clear that I was not looking for anything more and that I just wanted to move on. However, the way she was handling the while situation made me like her even more. My whole plan had backfired. I was now in a deeper hole than I was at the start. "Besides," she continued, "you only told me so that you could move on anyway. It's not like you still harbor feelings for me or anything, right?"

     "Yeah," I chuckled nervously, "right." CRAP!

Dare You to Move

Now was the time. It was time to finally face the fears and insecurities that had followed me ever since I was thirteen. Five years of cowardice was going to come to an end. I was finally going to tell a girl how I felt. I had it all planned out. Rash and I were working the same shift on Thursday, May 30th. The plan was to tell her as we both left the building (as to avoid having to tell her around anybody else.) The plan was set and ready to go, however I naturally still felt uneasy. I knew I had to go through with the plan because several other people already knew about my plan, and the only thing I fear more than women is looking like a coward.

     Even with this motivation, I still didn't trust myself to go through with my plan, so I came up with a plan B. The night before, I wrote up a note on the computer (because my penmanship is on par with that of a three-year-old.) If I happened to lose face and chicken out, I would just hand her the note. It wasn't the best plan, but I needed a backup.

     Eventually the day came, and with it also came anxiety like none I had ever experienced before. I was able to keep myself in check for the majority of the time, but as zero hour drew nearer my panic became harder to conceal. It got to the point to where I had to retreat to the bathroom to compose myself. Rashaell began to pick up on this. "Are you okay?" she asked.

     "Peachy," I said, "why?"

     "Well, you seem really distracted, you look really pale, your eye keeps twitching, and when I handed you that last item, I felt your hand and it was ice cold."

     "Never felt better." I said.

     At last, the shift ended. She was a little late clocking out, so I just waited by the door. It was probably only about 2 minutes that I waited, but each second seemed like an eternity. It was the longest two minutes I have ever been through. At that moment I could think of a million unpleasant things I would rather be doing than waiting through those two minutes in hell. Root canals, Chinese water torture, taking a bath with a cat, and shoving bamboo chutes under my fingernails were just a few of them. I was almost ready to call it all off and leave, but just as I was getting up, Rash walked out.

     "Hey, Rash," I said, "hold on, I need to tell you something."

     "Yes?" She replied.

     For a few seconds, I just stood there. I couldn't get any words out. I just stood there with my mouth hanging open looking like an idiot. I could feel my hand reaching into my pocket for the note, but then I remembered something. I was repeating exactly what I did with Erin, and just look what that did to my confidence. It was because of that experience that I was now afraid to talk to women. I couldn't let my hand retrieve that letter. I finally just said it: "Rash, I have something to say and I ask that you don't interrupt until I am finished."

     "Okay," she said, "oops! Sorry, go ahead."

     "Look, ever since you started here a year-and-a-half ago, I've had this. . ." Here it was. Once I said this, it would easier to say the rest. "crush on you. This. . . infatuation. I tried to tell you several times, I even tried to ask you out, but I was too afraid. I kept telling myself that the reason I never told you was because I didn't want to put you in an uncomfortable situation or I didn't want ruin our friendship. But that excuse won't work anymore because you're leaving soon, and I'll probably never see you again. Whatever friendship we have will cease to exist.
     "But I want to be perfectly clear. I am in no way telling you this to steal you. I'm not trying to win your heart. I'm telling this because I need to. I need to have closure so I can move on with my life. So that one day, maybe I could have a healthy relationship. I'm telling you this because twenty years down the road, when I'm married and have a family of my own, I don't want to run across your picture hand have regrets. I need to know that I tried and failed, rather than failed to try."

     We stood there in silence for a few seconds. It was horrible and awkward. But she didn't look like she felt awkward. Then I realized that I had told her not to interrupt and she might be thinking that I am pausing, looking for words. So I made it clear that I was done by saying, "I've gotta go. Goodbye." And with that I walked to my car and drove home.

Full Circle

I had been thinking a lot lately. Recent events had shot my brain into overdrive. First, I found out that the object of my affections would be leaving soon forever. Secondly, after seeing a picture of my old crush, I felt strange feelings of regret. I struggled with this for a while, wondering what all of it could mean. Then I realized that I had never gained closure with Kayla, and if I let Rashaell go without closure, it would turn full circle again.

     Several months ago, I introduced a few people into this narrative who lived as my next door neighbors. One of them was Wyatt. Though he was half my age, we became good friends. He was like the brother I never had and we talked about almost every thing, including the situation I was in.

     "So, what are you going to do about it?" He said after I explained the story.

     "I think I have to tell her," I replied.

     He then looked at me with a cheesy grin that seemed to say "Finally! I knew I'd get you to tell her sometime."

     "But I'm not." I said after a few seconds.

     "Why?" He asked, almost exasperated.

     In my head, I was telling myself it was because I didn't want to put Rashaell through something like that. But all I said out loud was, "I don't know."

     And this brings us back to where our story begins. With me sitting on the couch, holding my newborn niece for the first time. It seems like whenever something great happens in someone else's life, you feel good for that person for a few seconds, but then you begin taking a look at your own life. For me, as I held my sisters newborn daughter, I couldn't help but wonder what I was doing with my life. I was an adult now and I had never even been on a date. All my life I had been too afraid to tell a girl how I felt, and that was holding me back. With Erin, I may have told her, but I did it cowardly behind a note. I was too afraid to say anything to Kayla, and though I kept making excuses, it all boiled down to fear with Rash, too. It was time to put myself out there. But if I ever wanted to have a healthy relationship, I had to get closure with Rash. I had to tell her how I felt.

     The next day I hung out with Wyatt again and the first thing I said was: "I'm going to do it, I'm going to tell her."

     "Finally!" He said, "It's about friggin' time!"

     A few hours later, his older sister Katie knocked on my door. When I answered, she said, "I heard you're finally going to do it."

     "Yeah," I said, "Tomorrow afternoon." She then hugged me against my will. During the hug I was thinking, "Oh great. Now everyone is going to know. I really hope I actually have the courage to do this." But my mouth was saying, "Katie? You can stop now."

The Social Network

I knew that Rash was going to go off to college soon, but having someone else say it really made it sink in. I knew she'd have to go eventually, but I guess I had just been trying not to think about it. It was right about then that I began regretting my decision to be her professional colleague and not her friend. The second she left, whatever kind of professional relationship we had would cease to exist and we'd be perfect strangers. The thought of that saddened me, so I decided I would do something I said I would never do.

     For the longest time I had held off on joining Facebook. My antisocial nature deterred me from joining a "social" network. However, I felt that Facebook was probably the only way to stay connected with Rashaell, so I joined. But here's where things start to get complicated for me. I started friending a bunch of other people I knew (you know, because it would be friggin' weird if I only friended Rash. Also, Facebook would be rather boring when you only had one friend posting details about their food.) As I was doing this I ran across Kayla (yes, the same Kayla from before.) And as I looked at her picture I felt something. I'm not sure what exactly. I certainly didn't think that I had any remaining feelings for her, but something about her picture brought back all the memories. The silly nickname she had for me, the popcorn kernel of truth, and many more came back to me and it got me wondering if I would ever get over it.

     And that brings us back to April 17th 2013. It's prom night and I'm dancing with Erin, my first crush. As we dance, I look into her eyes and I feel. . . nothing. I realized that to truly get over someone, you have to meet the right person. After Erin, I met Kayla. After Kayla, I met Rashaell. As I contemplated these things, I realized that what I was feeling when I saw Kayla's picture was not old feeling coming back to the surface, but regret. Regret that we couldn't have stayed friends and regret that I never really got the chance to close the book with Kayla. At least with Erin and I being in the same home school group, I had the chance to move on and become her friend again, but I had no such luck with Kayla. That's when I began to wonder, "Would the same thing happen with Rashaell? In 50 years when I'm married and have a family, will I see her picture and have the same regrets?" I couldn't let that happen.

All Secrets Known (People are Dillholes pt II)

Let's move ahead a little bit. It's now early April in 2013. I was helping one of the stockers, Chase, stock some of the shelves. As we were working, Rash walks down the isle, we exchange greetings and move on with what we were doing. I figured I was inconspicuous enough, however Chase turned to me and said, "You're totally into her aren't you?"

     "What? Naw!" I said, "That's just crazy talk."

     "That's bullcrap." He said, "You totally want to do her."

     "Well, that's just a bit juvenile, don't you think?"

     "Just admit that you like her."

     "Fine, yeah, I like her." I said reluctantly.

     "Does she know?"

     "Of course not!" I said a little too loudly, "I can never tell her."

     "Well," Chase said slowly, "if you won't tell her, I guess I'll have to do it for you."

     "No! You don't understand, you can't tell her!"

     "Are you gonna?"

     "No."

     "Well, then." He said as we walked away.

     I started to panic. Was he really going to tell her? If he was, I had to take care of some damage control. I went up to the registers and began sacking groceries on Rashaell's register. I then began my plan. "So, funny story. Last week, Chase tried to spread the rumor that Nick was gay." I said.

     "Really?" Rash replied, "Why would he do that?"

     "Oh, he a friggin' gossip. He likes to start false rumors just for the 'lolz.'"

     "I don't really work with him much, but she sounds like a real ass."

     "You have no idea." I said.

     The next day when I came to work, Chase came up to me and said, "It's done. I told her."

     "I can't believe you did that." I said, "Well I guess it doesn't really matter. I told her that you are a gossip and not to trust a thing you said."

     "Now that just hurts," he said sarcastically, "It hurts me right here." He pointed to his chest as he said this. "Tell me, though. Why are you so against her knowing?"

     "Because," I said, "I don't want to put her in that kind of situation. She's in a relationship and I don't want to complicate things for her. I mean, what if she likes me back? I don't want to put her in a dilemma to where she has to choose. You may not know this, but when you truly care about someone, you want them to be happy. . . even if that means they can't be happy with you. But I wouldn't expect you to understand that."

     "There won't be any dilemma if she isn't here. She's moving at the end of the summer."

     "Wait. What?"

The Question of 'Liking the Unavailable'

Later that December an issue of Insight Magazine was issued with this subtitle: "True Love: Liking the Unavailable." "True Love" was a section at the end of every issue where teenagers around the country would ask questions about relationships, crushes, and a number of different things and have their questions answered. In this particular issue, the question read, "'I work with a girl whom I really like. Unfortunately, I recently found out that she is dating someone else. Now I feel very guilty because I am attracted to some other person's girlfriend. I don't know what to do. Please help.' - Anonymous" (15). As you can probably guess by the question, it was sent in by me. This was the answer I received:

I know that many people out there may be screaming 'Go for it! She's not married.' The too-used and too-familiar phrase 'All is fair in love' may be flowing out the lips of others ... But (yep, you knew it was coming) what is often disregarded is the story of the poor guy or girl on the other side of the coin, the 'pesky little significant other' who feels like they've been run over by a freight train ... In your situation, should you feel guilty about being attracted to this girl? No, it's natural. However, the situation being what it is should give you pause before you become too involved with her ... Will hurt feelings be inevitable? Perhaps. It comes with the territory. However the difference comes in the fact that you would not be the one to help contribute to those hurt feelings if you just keep your boundaries and be respectful of the relationship this girl has with her man. No matter how you slice it, this girl, though not married,  has someone who is counting on her to keep her word and respect the arrangement they have together. If you care about her, why put her in such a dilemma? ... As I said, you are attracted to her, and it's natural, but keep your boundaries. If you can be her friend and keep your boundaries, then by all means, carry on as friends, but be warned. It can be extremely, extremely hard to separate romantic feelings from a platonic friendship. So if you can't handle it, just keep it a professional work relationship. If her relationship isn't meant to last, and if she feels that there better fits for her guy-wise than her current beau, the relationship will come to a close on its own, not because you pushed it over the edge. God bless you in your task ahead ... I'm praying for you (15).

I thought about what the author had to say and it made sense. The last thing I ever wanted to do was put Rash through any kind of dilemma. I decided right then that I would try my hardest being content as her friend. And if that didn't work, as painful as it was to think about, I would have to step back even further and become that one guy she worked with once. Whatever happened, I knew one thing for sure: she could never, never know how I felt about her. Unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances beyond my control, "never" would become "soon."

 Work Cited

Taylor-Mduba, Tiffany S. "True Love: Liking the Unavailable." Insight Magazine. 15 Dec. 2012: 15. Print.

Laser Vision

Time passed and soon it was Christmas break. Being out of school, I ended up working with Rashaell about twice as much as usual. She used her new found free time spending it with her new boyfriend, Ryan, which unfortunately meant that she couldn't shut up about him. In every conversation she would find some way to mention him at least once, and let me tell you, it got annoying. For example, we were talking about Christmas shopping: "I already had all my shopping done last month," I said, "I like to get it done early."

     "Most of mine is done," she replied, "I just need to shop for my boyfriend, Ryan."

     Eager to shift the conversation topic, I said: "If it were my dad, the Christmas shopping wouldn't be done until Christmas Eve."

     "My boyfriend, Ryan, is the same way!" She said, "I swear if the stores were open on Christmas day, he'd probably wait 'til then."

     "Oooooooooooof course."

     "My boyfriend, Ryan, is such a character-" she began.

     I turn toward Bri (a customer service rep.) with an obvious look of annoyance on my face: "You hear that, Emma? Her boyfriend's name is apparently Ryan." I said very sarcastically.

     "Oh! That guy that looks like an ape?" Bri said, turning around. According to the look on her face, she didn't know that Rashaell was right behind her. Rashaell looked at Bri, then looked back at me and I said: "I didn't want to say anything, but yeah he kinda does."

     A few days later I was sitting in the break room when Emma walked in and said, "If I could have one Christmas wish, it would be not to have to go back to college after Winter break."

     "If I had one Christmas wish," I replied, "it would be for true love. . . or laser vision. Yeah, I think I'm going with laser vision." She laughed a little bit and I continued: "No, if I were to have once Christmas wish, it would be to have one conversation with Rashaell in which she didn't mention her boyfriend every five seconds."

     "You'd have a better chance at getting the laser vision," she replied.

     I couldn't help but agree, but the funny thing about life is that it always makes a liar out of you. It wasn't more that two days later before I worked with Rash again and, as hard as it was to believe, the impossible happened. In a full eight-hour shift working together, she didn't mention her boyfriend once.

     When my shift ended, I walked over to the customer service counter to talk to Emma. "Oh my gosh!" I said, "It came true! It came true!"

     "What are you talking about?" She asked.

     "My Christmas wish came true!"

     "Oh crap! Did you burn anything?"

     "No, no. Not that!" I said. "The other wish."

     "No way! I wasn't aware that pigs began flying and that Hell froze over."

     "Apparently," I said, "but if this wish came true, where the heck is my laser vision?"

I Will Wait

I had just done what was probably the stupidest thing of my adolescent life. I passed up on the golden opportunity of asking Rashaell out. Why? It's hard to say. Possibly a mixture of fear and guilt. The fear of the unknown and the guilt of asking out my friend's ex - which, if How I Met Your Mother has taught me anything, it's that asking out your bro's ex is highly frowned upon. However, what I was telling myself and everyone else was that I didn't ask her out because I wanted to give her some time to sort things out. This, in part, was true; but not the full extent of the truth. Weather it was the full truth or not, I was giving her time. I kept telling myself, "A few more weeks. A few more weeks and I'll finally do it." But a few more weeks may have been too long.

     It was a hot July day in 2012 and I was in the final stretch of my morning shift at work. I was working with four other people. Gabby (a sacker like myself), Emma (the dingo ate your baby lady), Ashlee (the hell-spawn herself), and Rashaell. The girls were chattering on and I, being a man, was very disinterested in their conversation. Emma, Ashlee, and Gabby went on and on and on about who their dates were that night. Not being able to leave my station, I just had to tune them out. However, amid the monotonous talk of boys and love lives, I overheard Rashaell say, "Am I the only person here without a date tonight?" My ears perked up like a dog to the sound of a dog whistle. Was this an opening? Was this the opportunity I needed?

     "Well," I said, "if it makes you feel any better, as long as you are working with me, you are assuredly not the only person without a date on a given night."

     She laughed and said, "That's very comforting, but I don't need to feel any better. I may not have a date tonight, but I do tomorrow night."

     "Oooh! Who is it?" One of the other girls asked. Rashaell replied some name, but it was here that I began tuning out again. Unlike the past, I was not too worried about this new information. She has a date, so what? It's probably just a rebound anyway. It couldn't last more that two or three weeks. However, I seem to always be wrong about theses things. Nearly two years later as I am sitting behind this computer screen writing this blog entry, Rashaell is in a committed relationship with the very same guy afore mentioned. Not asking her out when I had the chance is possibly the dumbest thing I have ever done, or maybe I dodged a bullet. Who knows. The future is an uncertain thing.

Sooner or Later

Now or never. Rashaell was right there in front of me and, according to Emma, she was now single. It was time for me to ask her out, but not quite yet. I trusted Emma, but I still needed to confirm what I heard from Rashaell herself. But how to do that? I didn't want to just ask her if they broke up, that might make me seem insensitive and over eager. After a short time contemplating my approach, I decided on the "I didn't know" act.

     I walked over to where she was standing and said, "Hey, Rash. How ya doin'?"

     "Pretty good, I guess." She said.

     Now it was time to implement my plan. I simply asked, "You know what? I haven't seen Landon in a long time. How is he?"

     She paused for a second and then said, "Oh, I don't really know. We kinda broke up a couple weeks ago."

     "Oh, I'm sorry." I said, "I didn't know."
   
     I was about three seconds from making my move and asking her out, but then I stopped. I just couldn't do it. It wasn't that I was afraid or anything, it just didn't seem right. What am I? A vulture? She just got out of a year-and-a-half long relationship and here I was trying to take advantage of it. Besides, even if I did ask her out and she said "yes" I would just end up being her rebound guy and end up on the wayside in two weeks. It just wasn't the right time.

     "Well," I said, "best of luck to ya."

     As much as I liked her and wanted nothing more that to ask her out, I had to give her some time. Time to sort things out and be her own person. I'd ask her out sooner or later, just not right now. It's not like she was going anywhere. . . Yeah friggin' right.

The Confidante

It was the greatest news I had ever heard. I had just found out that Rashaell may have broken up with Landon. The wait was over, I was now determined to ask her out. However, I had to be sure they really were broken up and that what I had heard wasn't just a rumor. Thus I began my search for a confidante.

     My usual confidantes (my sister Hope or my best friend Jill) wouldn't work this time. I needed someone that I could trust, but who also knew Rashaell on a personal basis. After a short time of deliberation, I came up with a name: Emma. Emma was a customer service representative at the grocery store that I work for. Not only had she shown herself trustworthy in the past, but she also lived in the same hometown and went to the same high school as Rashaell.

     One day after work, I talked to Emma. "Hey," I said, "can I ask you a question?"

     "Technically, you just asked a question," she replied, "but yeah go ahead."

     I froze. Could I really trust Emma? Sure, she had shown herself to be a trustworthy person before, but this was different. Rashaell was one of Emma's best friends, would her loyalty to Rashaell outweigh her loyalty to keep my secret? Would she tell Rashaell and ruin everything? I couldn't risk it. "Um, well. There's this girl. . . that I kind of like. . . who may or may not be dating. . . a good friend of mine," I said slowly, "I recently heard a rumor that they may have. . . ended things. How would you suggest I ask her if they really did break up. . . without actually asking if they broke up?"

     "You're talking about Rashaell." She replied.

     "What? How did you get there?"

     "Well, I've seen the way you look at her. Also, you told me that Landon was a good friend of yours and I know that he and Rashaell used to date."

     "Crap. Wait, used to date?!"

     Just then, the clock hit 4 and Rashaell came walking into the store for her shift. Now was my chance, I couldn't waste it. . .

To Be Continued. . .

** Starting this week, not only will new posts of How I Met Your Ex-Girlfriend be showing up on Blogger.com, they will also be showing up on my new website. Here's the link!

The Rumor

In the summer of 2012, the girl of my dreams was dating my good friend. It was horrible. I couldn't be around Rashaell without feeling guilty for liking her, and I couldn't be around Landon without feeling jealous that he was dating her. The worst times were when I was around both of them together. It was a time in life that would seemingly never end. But it would end, and it would end a lot sooner than I thought.

     It happened one day while sitting in the living room. My mother, sister Hope, my dad, and I were all sitting around when I heard the greatest rumor ever. My mom was looking at her computer when she looked up to me and asked, "Did Landon and that girl you work with break up or something?"

     "What?!" I said, looking up quickly.

     "I just saw on Facebook that Landon is 'in a relationship' and it isn't with Rashaell."

     I stopped for a moment to compose myself before I spoke again. "Oh?" I said, forcing a disinterested  and unexcited voice.

     "That's what it looks like," said my mother, "Hey, you know what? You should ask her out. She's cute and seems nice."

     "Nah," I said, trying to keep the disinterested act going.

     "Yeah, why would he want Landon's sloppy seconds, anyway?" Said Hope.

     "Whoa!" I said defensively, "I wouldn't call her sloppy seconds."

     "Then ask her out."

     "Maybe I will," I thought,  "Maybe I will."

The Worst Time to Wear a Hitler Mustache

As I have mentioned before, I was home schooled as a kid. However, that doesn't mean that we didn't do social things. For example, once a month a bunch of home school families would get together for socials like field trips or Wax Museums. For those of you that don't know, I am not referring to a literal museum of wax figurines. I am talking about an event where all the students would dress as historical figures and give a speech about their lives. It was at this that my next story takes place.

     Whenever I had to pick a historical figure to portray, I always liked to think a little outside the box. While other kids were George Washingtons, Thomas Jeffersons, and Nepoleons; I was being people like Zeus and Paul McCartney wearing his Sgt. Peppers uniform. But probably the most original idea I had was to be Charlie Chaplin and present my entire speech in the form of a silent movie. However, I couldn't just dress as Mr. Chaplin, I had to dress has his most famous character - The Little Tramp.

This wasn't a bad thing. I rather like the idea of dressing as the Little Tramp. I thought it would be fun. However, not three seconds after I don my garb of the greatest film maker of the silent movie era, I see Landon walk through the door and immediately after him, Rashaell. That's when I realized. . . I looked like a moron.

     The worst part, though was that I had misplaced my hat and cane. Without them I went from Charlie Chaplin to Adolf Hitler.

     I ducked and hid from Rash and went in search of my hat and cane. Along the way, I kept running into some of the parents and grandparents of the other students who kept asking me questions like, "Who are you supposed to be? Hitler?" After a while I got so sick of correcting them that I just started saying, "Yep, pretty much." A few people were taken aback by that, but at least it shut them up so I could continue my search.

     Then from behind, I heard a familiar voice say, "Nash? Is that you?" I turn around to see Rashaell.

     "Hey, I didn't know you were here." I lied.

     "Yeah, I came with Landon." She replied, "Who are you supposed to be? Charlie Chaplin?"

     I looked at her for a second, at bit surprised that she guessed right. "You are unbelievably cool." I said, "You wouldn't believe how many people have been asking me if I'm Hitler."

     "It was obvious to me. I mean, who would dress as Hitler anyway?"

     In the conversation that followed, I realized something: it didn't matter if I looked like a moron in front of Rashaell. I mean, she was dating Landon, that means she must love people who look like morons (yeah I know, low blow. But I was there, I had to go for it.) At any rate, I figured that even if I do look like a moron sometimes, I shouldn't have to hide that from her. If I ever get her to like me in the same way, I want her to like me for who I am. The Nerdy moron who dresses like Charlie Chaplin.

Flush

Why do bad things happen to good people? Well, because people (good or bad) are stupid. We will do incredibly stupid things that lead to consequences. Some morons will brush their teeth before they eat and consequently, everything tastes like a minty version of their food. Mint flavored orange juice, mint flavored pancakes, mint flavored lasagna, mint flavored pie, and even mint flavored toothpaste. Where does the mint end?! Some people wake up in the morning, decide to not wash themselves or put on appropriate clothing, and go to Wal-mart. They later end up on peopleofwalmart.com. Some morons think that taping cardboard wings to their arms and jumping off a building will give them the power of flight. In reality, it just gives them higher insurance premiums. Some people switched from Facebook to Google+ and are now very lonely. Some people grow mullets. . . that's a punishment in and of itself. Some nincompoops fall for their friend's girlfriend. Those same nincompoops will leave their phones too close to the edge of the bathroom sink where it will fall into the toilet. . .

     It was the morning after I got Rashaell's phone number. I woke up at 6:00 a.m. to get ready for work and went to the bathroom to start getting ready. Now, I'm a person who loves baths. LOVES them. So I specifically got up two hours before work because I figured it would give me some extra soak time. The thing is; that early in the morning, I don't want to fully wake myself up by turning on all the lights. So I took my bath in the dark and used my cellular talking device as an alarm to make sure I got out in time. This was a recipe for disaster. I got out of the tub and moved over to where my phone was blasting "I Like It" by Foxy Shazam. I reach out for it in the dark and bump it with my hand. Seconds later I hear a "glunk!" I reach over and turn on the lights to find my phone sitting that the bottom of my toilet bowl.

     I wasn't too worried about this at first. After all, it was just a simple flip phone. It could be replaced easily enough. But then it hit me. Rashaell's number was on that phone and I still had to text her the next week's schedule. How was I supposed to text it to her without a phone? There was only one option I could think of. The second I got off work that day, I grabbed the schedule and picked up the phone behind customer service. I located the phone number provided before her name and dialed. After a few rings, she picked up. "Hello?" she said.

     "Um. . ." I replied.

     "Hello? Who is this?"

     I have no idea why it was taking me so long to answer. Possibly it was because I was afraid of having to explain why I was calling instead of texting her the schedule. "Uh, it's me. Uh, I mean Nash. I'm just calling to tell you your schedule for next week."

     "Oh! Thanks!" she said, "I was just expecting you to text it to me."

     "Yeah, that's a funny story."

     "Oh? How so?"

     "My phone got. . . Incapacitated." I said vaguely.

     "Yes, that's. . . quite amusing."

     I proceeded to tell her the schedule. When I finished, she said, "Thanks Nash. Oh, hey. Have you called Ashlee yet? She said you were going to text her the schedule, too."

     "Uh, no," I said with discouragement in my voice, "not yet." I hated Ashlee. The last thing I wanted to do was call her. She was my arch nemesis. She was the Dwight Schrute to my Jim Halpert. She was the Newman to my Jerry Seinfeld. She was the Ralph Macchio to my Barney Stinson. She was evil incarnate and now I had to call her all because I dropped my stupid phone in the toilet. Why do bad things happen to good people? Why? Because people are idiots. Dwight Schrute had some great advice for situations like this: "Before I do anything, I ask myself, 'would and idiot do that?' and if the answer is yes, I do not do that thing."

867-5309

You've seen it in TV shows, you've seen it in movies. A guy walks up to a girl, flirts a little bit, and asks for her phone number. What follows is either a martini in the face or the guy walks away with the requested seven digits. I can proudly say that I have never gotten a martini thrown in my face when asking for a girl's number, but I can not-so-proudly say that I have never asked. But never asking doesn't mean never receiving.

     It happened one Thursday afternoon at work. I was about to clock out and leave when I turned around to Rashaell and asked, "You working tomorrow?"

     "No," she said, "are you?"

     "Yeah, 8 to 4."

     "Could you text me the schedule when it comes out tomorrow?"

     I was about two milliseconds from saying, "I don't text," and explain how I hate it is frustrating, but then I stopped and thought, "This could be my chance to get her number." So I nodded my head and said, "I'd be glad to."

     "Thanks," she said, "My cell number is on the weekly schedule sheet."

     I said goodbye and rushed over to the schedule sheet with a pen and post-it note. Then, out of the corner of my ear (is that a saying? I don't think that's a saying. Eh, whatever) I heard the taunting, shrill voice of Ashlee - my arch nemesis. Ashlee was a snarky, very small girl I worked with. She only weighed about 90 lbs and was probably 4', -10'' in tall. Why did I dislike her? Was it her snarky attitude? No, I actually quite enjoyed that. It was because she was the assistant manager's daughter and she thought she could get away with anything.

     Anyway, she comes up behind me and says, "Wachya doin'?"

     "Getting someone's number." I said without looking away from the schedule.

     "A guuuuuuuuuuurrrrl's number?"

     "Yeah."

     "Wait," she asked, "what about that one girl you like?"

     I had completely forgotten that a few weeks earlier she had come across the scent that I liked someone. She didn't know who, but she was persistent to find out. "That's whose number I'm getting." I said.

     "Oh my god!" She exclaimed, "She works here!?"

     "Ohhhhhh nooooo," I said slowly under my breath.

     "Who is it? Who is it? Are you going to call her. You know you have to wait three days, right?"

     "I'm just texting her the schedule tomorrow."

     "Oh! Can you text me the schedule too?"

     A long pause proceeded in which time I seriously contemplated how much I wanted Ashlee to have access to my number. But in the end, ". . . . . . . okaaaaaay." So I took my pen and wrote down the second number.

     That is the story of how I got two girls' numbers without even asking. This was also the story of how I only programed one onto my phone and threw the other in the trash as I walked out the door.

I'm Not Gay

Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a sitcom. The people in my life are evidence enough for that. I have the OCD/clean freak sister and the sarcastic, can't stop making jokes brother-in-law who mirror Monica and Chandler from Friends. I have a really nerdy sister and brother-in-law that could be anyone from The Big Bang Theory. I have the forgetful - sometimes crazy - mother who reminds me of Franky Heck from The Middle. I have the up-beat - sometimes embarrassing - dad who reminds me of Andy Bernard from The Office. My brother-in-law's brother is a guy who thinks he's the best with ladies, drives my sister nuts, sometimes says dumb sounding things, and often borrows money from people; who reminds me of Joey Tribbiani from Friends. I have a friend that. . . well you can't really explain what he's like, you can only compare him to Dwight Schrute from The Office. My best friend is a very indecisive person who reminds me of. . . well no one, but I could write a ten season sitcom just about her. And lastly, I am the romantic minded, lonely guy with a love life as eventful as a snail race. So, I guess I could be either Ross Geller from Friends or Ted Mosby from How I Met Your Mother, but the fact that I haven't been divorced three times indicates I'm more of a Ted. Sometimes I like to treat my life like it really is a sitcom. Whenever someone says something incredibly stupid, I like to turn to one side and break the fourth wall like Annie Hall; usually giving an imaginary camera a haughty head shake of derision or a classic face-palm. I made up a diagnosis for this. I call it Sitcophrenia. It's like Schizophrenia, but instead of hearing voices, I hear canned laughter. I've been in my share of sitcom cliché plot lines as well, but one day I got stuck in one of the most common: The Gay or Nay cliché.

     You know this one: a strait guy is mistaken for being gay. It happens on a lot of different sitcoms. On Seinfeld, Jerry and George were thought to be gay by a reporter in The Outing episode. In The One Where Nana Dies Twice episode of Friends, Chandler finds out a lot of people think he's gay. And though the names of the episodes escape me, Ted was thought to be gay in three or four episodes of How I Met Your Mother. Well, the same thing happened to me at work one day. Rashaell and I were facing the isles of the store (facing is when you pull the items up to the front of the shelf to make it look full.) We were talking to help pass the time. We talked about things like how I went to see the Kansas City Symphony once and how she built a motor for school. Then I thought, "Holy crap. She's more of a dude than I am." I don't know how we got onto the next topic, but it eventually came to this: "Actually, I've never dated before." I said.

     "Yeah, I can she it being hard to find a guy in thi-"

     "Wait. What? Guy?!" I interrupted. *Que canned laughter*

     "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you... I just... Uh, I-" She began.

     "I'm not! I'm not. No, no, no, no, no." I said. As much as I wanted to prove it by telling her that I had a crush on her, I felt it was best to just leave it at five "No's" I had just said.

     After a few minutes of awkward silence, I started to laugh. She turned to me and have me a puzzled look as if wondering why on earth I was laughing. "So," I finally said, "What, exactly, made you think that I. . . bat for the other team?"

     "Well, you have a certain. . . Quality." She said.

     "Oh, good. I was worried you were going to be vague about it."

     "Well I guess it was because you said that the vast majority of your friends are girls, you've never dated, oh and you went to a symphony." She said.

     "I see." I said, "Well, the vast majority of my friends are girls because I don't have many friends. I'm not a very outgoing person, so a lot of people think I'm a jerk on first impression. You kind of have to be around me for a while to get to know who I really am. The only friends who have been able to do that are my neighbors and they are all girls. The reason I've never been on a date before is not because I don't like girls, it's because girls don't usually like me. As far as the symphony goes, do you know who else was at that symphony? Your boyfriend! Ha-BURN!"

     You remember the story of the light bulb and my head right? Landon, my sister, my mother, his brother, and I were all getting pizza. I pulled a prank on Landon which ended up with my head crashing into the light above me. Anyway, that happened right after a field trip to the Kansas City Symphony.

     After this incident, I decided I needed to be more manly, so I decided to grow a mustache! And then shaved it after being called a porn star. So I've been mistaken for being gay and a porn star, the only thing left is for me to date two girls at the same time and my life will make the final transition from reality to TV comedy.

My Best Friend's Girl

I don't know exactly when I began to develop feelings for Rashaell. It kind just sneaked up on me. For at least three months I only saw her as a good work friend, until one day. . . We were just conversing during some slow business time at work when I started to see her in a new light. It wasn't anything she said or did particularly, it just happened. It went from "she's kinda hot" to "I really like this girl" at the snap of a finger. It's possible that the feelings were there the whole time, tucked somewhere in the back of my mind just to surface now. But even now that I knew I had feelings for her, I still couldn't admit it to myself. I didn't want to like her in that way.

     I continued to bury my new found feelings for her for several weeks. I didn't feel right about it. I still liked Kayla and it didn't settle right in my mind to have feelings for two girls at once. I guess I'm just not wired that way. It's a situation my mind can't easily sort out. Despite this, I still couldn't deny that I liked Rashaell. Then one day in January I decided that I couldn't fight it anymore. I finally admitted to myself that I had feelings for her and now I was going to do something about it.

     Now, what happens next seems to happen to me a lot. Off the top of my head, I can count five times: once with Kayla, twice with Rashaell, and three other times with girls that I won't mention yet because they aren't in this story yet. What am I talking about? Well the best way to explain it is with this example. I had finally decided I was going to ask Rashaell out. I was determined. Nothing would stop me. . . well just about anything could stop me, because I was so scared of doing it, but still. I finally got her alone and was about to ask when she said, "I heard your head and light bulbs don't get a long well."

     "What?" I asked.

     "You know," she answered, "you broke that light bulb in Pizza Hut with your head."

     "How do you know that? Have you been talking to my mom?"

     "No," she laughed, "Landon told me."

     You remember Landon. The bro I wrote about last week who was at Pizza Hut with me when I smashed the light with my head. I had also found out that he had gotten a new girlfriend and he wouldn't tell me who it was. I told him I would find out who she was weather he told me or not. I was about to get my answer.

     "Oh? You know Landon?" I asked.

     "Yeah," she said, "He's my boyfriend."

     This has happened a lot. I'll finally decide to do something about a crush I have, and then I find out they're dating someone. I'm thankful for this, however. Otherwise I would have made a total ass out of myself several times throughout the years.

     Anyway, back to the story. I was shocked, though I shouldn't have been. She did live in the same town as him, after all. All I could make myself say was, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." While my mouth was saying the very long "Oh" my mind what racing. "Oh, no!" I thought, "It's happening again! It's going to be The Summer of Darkness all over again!" But strangely enough, it wasn't. I mean, I can't say I wasn't a little disappointed, but I wasn't at all depressed like before. I guess I had matured since then. I may not have been feeling depressed, but I did feel something else. Guilt. I felt really guilty. All this time I had been going after my friend's girlfriend. This felt wrong to me, so I told myself that I would try and get over the feelings I had for her. How hard could it be anyway? It's not like I had been in love with her for years or anything. Boy, was I wrong about that. Getting over Rashaell is much easier said than done. . .

Pizza, Bros, and Burned Hair

Now, to explain what happens in the next few posts, I must introduce a new character in this narrative. Landon is probably the closest thing I have ever had to a bro. We were both home-schooled as kids and were the only two guys around the same age in our home-school group, so we became friends fairly quickly despite the fact we were very different. For instance: he loves Country music while I want to shoot every Country star in the face so that we can be rid of the curse. He loves fishing and a bunch of other outdoorsy stuff while I laugh at people like that from my comfortable couch. But we became friends all the same. Possibly it was our mutual love of the guitar and writing music? Who knows. At any rate we were pretty good bros.

     We had a lot of good times as kids, like one time when we were coming back from a home-school field trip (yes home-schoolers have those) when our parents decided to stop for pizza. I was sitting across the booth from Landon and I decided I was going to pull a little practical joke. Every time he looked away, I scooted the table a little bit closer to his side of the booth. Luckily the waitress kept walking by, so he looked away from the table quite often. In the span of about five minutes the table was so close to him that I thought he had to notice, but he hadn't. I knew if I moved it again he'd notice because the table would touch him, so I decided to make the last push count. I grabbed the table with both hands and waited for him to look away. The first chance I got, I sent the table swiftly into his gut. As I heard the "Ooof!" from the other end of the table, I started laughing really hard. I began to stand up and that's when the really funny part of this story happens. What I didn't realize was that every time I scooted the table, I scooted too. I had moved forward just as much as the table had. Another thing I didn't realize was that I was now sitting directly under the low hanging light. As I stood up my head went crashing into the light. There was a loud shattering sound and soon the pizza place was filled with the smell of burned hair. Now it was his turn to laugh hysterically. Keep this story in the back of your mind, because I will reference it a few more times in the coming weeks.

     Fast forward to the year 2011. Landon and I are goofing off at the December home-school field trip. His mom walks up and says, "Hey, Landon. Don't forget to call your girlfriend when we get home."

     "Ooooooooo," I said, "You have a gurlfreend." I then punched him in the shoulder.

     "Oh, shut up." He said.

     "Seriously, what her name? More importantly, is she hot?"

     "You wouldn't know her." He said.

     "Okay, good. So you can tell me?"

     "No!" He said laughing.

     "Okay, okay." I surrendered, "But know this, I will find out who she is, and I will mock you for it."

     And find out who she was, I did. And the answer. . . the answer I didn't like.