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.
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