Nostalgia Goes the Way of Old Yeller

I'm an extremely nostalgic person.

I'm a pack rat for all things that will tie me to some memory of the past. And it used to irritate the hell out of my old roommate Leo. When he'd help me load milk crates of my possessions during a move, he'd pick every single thing apart.

Leo: Okay, why in God's name do you have this?
So@24: That's a squirt gun my first crush in 4th grade used to spray me

Leo: I can't believe you still have this old picture of you and I. Did we really think it was acceptable to wear socks with our Samba sandals?
So@24: It's memories, man.

Leo: Oh fuck! What the hell is this??
So@24: It's a piece of a gingerbread house Lynn and I made once.
Leo: Dude. Throw this away.
So@24: No. Memories.


I'm the guy who stays in constant contact with his elementary school friends. I hate the idea of people who were once close just forgetting each other because of time. It's always been a quirk of mine that's very distinctive to me.

* * *

When I was at Chardy's party, I was anxiously awaiting another incoming drunk text from Dizzy. My cellphone beeped at me, declaring that the "Inbox was Full". I felt it was a good of time as any to clear out the bad boy.

I came toward the end of my list, I found a text message from a number I didn't recognize. A 503 area code. Well, that could have been anyone from my hometown. It was from the beginning of the year, a really nice text which is probably why I had such a difficult time deleting it:

hey you. it was great seeing you, i'm only sad that you live so far. miss you.

"Huh," my drunk ass thought to myself. "Who the hell is this?" I couldn't for the life of me figure out who it could be. So naturally, I texted the number:

Who the hell is this?

I never got a response back. But my goldfish memory didn't think twice about it for the remainder of the night. I was too busy making an ass out of myself (via text) to Dizzy anyway.

* * *

The mystery would not be solved until the next morning. I awoke to the sun piercing through my blinds disturbing my dull hangover and my cellphone vibrating on my chest

1 text message from the mystery number:

beth.

Goddammit, So@24. The answer was so clear in hindsight; I just haven't thought about Beth in "for. ev. er." (said like Michael "Squints" Palledorus). I had deleted her from my contacts after our last encounter and never looked back. But her number was saved due to an old forgotten text message I saved this whole time.

I took a moment to just think.

My friend once told me of this "Bucket Theory". I'll butcher it I'm sure, but basically it states that everyone is essentially a bucket filled with liquid. It takes a little bit of our liquid to be friends with people in our lives. We give our liquid, our friends take our liquid; it's a balance.

Unfortunately, there are those people we let enter our circle who take more liquid than give of their own and it never balances out. This is when you need to let these people go.

This is especially hard for me, keeping in mind my personality and how much I like to value memories and the past.

I took it a step further. This is something that I need to get used to; something that becomes normal in the dating world. You can't always stay friends with everyone who meant something to you at some point. Sometimes it fades for reasons out of your control and you're doing a disservice to yourself by hoping things will turn around.

It's interesting to go back and think about my time with Beth. We had some great times; she was extremely important at a point in my life... there was time when I thought that she would be my next relationship. But when you grow up, your friends need to be more than just the kid down the street who also an unnatural obsession with Army Ants. It has to be something more. Beth took and never gave.

People have learned how to do this before during the crucial dating years. It's nothing new to people my age, it's what you just do. You can date someone and share some pretty fucking intimate moments, say some pretty fucking intimate things, but something goes wrong and you might never speak to that person again. I guess this is something I'm just getting used to now. I can't always hold on for holding on's sake.

It took me awhile to really think about what I wanted to say back. I didn't want her to think I wanted to reconnect or that I was extending the olive branch. But I also didn't want to come off as a total dick. I ultimately decided on this:

Sorry, I was clearing out my inbox and didn't recognize the number.
Hope things are well.

I hit send and deleted that old text message. I doubt I'll hear from her again.

I let her go.

Please Hammer, Don't Settle.

I've had this post rattling around in my brain for awhile now. I wasn't sure of how to go about writing it and I didn't want readers to think I was pandering to my audience. However, keep in mind when reading, it's really a selfish act on my part. It's more for me than anyone else.

I think the catalyst for this post comes from a few recent experiences. In a few days my trial period for my failed online dating profile expires, so I thought I'd dedicate one last evening to eBrowsing.

It just depressed the hell out of me. Not a single one out of this round was the least bit funny or witty. It was the same bland shit, but the worst part is... these girls thought they were being original. Apparently the only piece of reading material readily available in the city of Los Angeles is US Weekly. Really? You love sushi? Oh and you "work really hard, but also know how to party"? Music is important to you too, huh?

I think I actually took off my glasses and rubbed my bored eyes at one point before I closed the online dating window for the last time. I don't mean to be harsh. I also enjoy going out for uncooked fish. I don't care (that much) that you indulge in shitty celebrity gossip magazines, I can accept that... I have my guilty pleasures as well. I too am a guy who takes his career very seriously, but also likes to abuse my liver on weekends. But for fuck's sake, where's the funny? Where's the wit? Where's the effort?

The second catalyst came from an email from an author of one of the funniest blogs I've come across, Kim from whatclaudiawore. It's primarily a fashion blog; if I'm forced to categorize it. But if you take a moment to read, it's fucking hilarious. I don't give two shits about fashion, but her writing alone is worthy of an instant "bookmark". Trust me.

Kim wrote to me asking for my thoughts on a dating situation she found herself in. I won't go into details, but I found myself shocked that a girl with her sense of humor had any trouble at all with the dating scene. I don't know if I helped her out at all with my opinion on her situation, but I did stress to her at the end of my response, that if anything... the other guy should be stressing about being able to keep up with her quick wit. Not the other way around.

And I didn't just blow through that email. I actually found myself erasing entire paragraphs and starting over, because I felt I wasn't being funny enough in my response.

This is my plea to all the genuinely funny girls* out there. To the girls that have actually caused me to laugh out loud. Please. Pleasepleasepleaseplease. Don't settle for guys that don't appreciate your humor. They may be good looking, they may have that devil-may-care visage, they may be "nice enough", but if they "don't get you" than turn and run. Make them show up and play to your level.

You're too rare of a resource to be wasted on mediocre dudes. Let the unfunny girls be with the unfunny guys. And don't feel sorry for them, there are plenty of both to go around; they won't be lonely for long. That's the way it should be; we have classes for a reason people!

I've seen it happen too many times. A girl ends up with a guy who has no idea how hilarious she is naturally. Sometimes, even the girl has no clue that she is funny. And each time I see this tragic scenario I do a Captain Jean Luc Picard face palm:

Yeah. One of these.

I want Violet to be able to strategize with her next boyfriend about how they are going to survive the zombie apocalypse. I even want Beth to whisper in the ear of a boy her secret fantasy of having relations on Snick's Big Orange Couch and have the guy know exactly what she's talking about. I don't want Lynn to try and explain to deaf ears why purchasing Hostess' Snowballs purely for the sake of smushing them in your barehands is fun.

Girls. You few-and-far-between, hilarious girls. Don't settle for just being eye candy. I'm not saying that your boys have to funny, I'm just saying that they have to legitmately think YOU are funny.

I think I feel so passionately about this subject, because it's a fear that I have too. The same paranoia I have for you, I have for myself. I worry that Future So@24 is going to go into panic mode and just pick someone just because I feel fortunate enough to find someone who shows interest in me and is "kinda cute". I don't want that. I want a funny girl.

Hey. Let's both not settle.

Deal?

While there are moments of disbelief, I don't despair. There are those who despair when single -- they feel compelled to find the one, move in, get married. I see my tenure in singlehood as exercise in the refinement of taste. When I choose, I know it'll be a fuck-all great choice. So yeah. I'm going to take my sweet ass time.

- Leo, via gchat

* Dizz, Saratoga Jean, D... you're just some of the few I'm looking at.
** The title of this entry was a play off MC Hammer's hit album "Please Hammer Don't Hurt 'Em"

It's Okay To Have Faith

I was talking to a reader today and she brought up a topic, very nonchalantly, about her faith in herself and her faith in men.

She spun me a story that I am all too familiar with and one that I imagine isn't a rare instance. She told me that she had just recently "given up" on a guy who she was extremely close with. They were more than just "buddies", he had told her how much he cared about her, and she had held out hope that they one day might be able to make something work.

You can see where this story is going, I'm sure. She waited. He fed her what she wanted to hear. Alas, nothing ever came from the friendship and she just recently had learned to let it go.

This reader was admitting to me that she was humiliated by herself for believing that what he was telling her had merit. And this got me thinking about my own experience.

I told her that she should not be embarrassed about her actions. It's not her fault and it's actually "okay" to have faith that people have good intentions. You can't go around always suspecting that people have ulterior motives or have some kind of trick up their sleeve. Sometimes, you have to go with your gut or you'll always think back and wonder "what if".

It reminded me of my story with Beth.

I haven't mentioned her in awhile, because we haven't communicated since the wedding.

She was one of my best friends from college and one of the few people I really connected with. We stayed in a weird, friend limbo for years... but when I stepped up and started pointing out the goddamn elephant in the living room... nothing came of it.

Beth knew what to say to keep me coming back for more; she perfected the art of hinting that perhaps one day we'd be more than just best friends. I think that she knew if she didn't keep pumping what I wanted to hear into me, keeping me holding out for "maybe it'll happen...", she knew that the attention I shamelessly showered her with would eventually disintegrate.

Eventually, it takes something to make you realize that enough is enough. And I believe that something is different for everyone; you can't predict it. Waiting for words to turn into actions gets old. And the words that once made your heart pump at an unhealthy speed soon become words that make you want to wretch.

I think my "something" was the day I realized that it should never be this much work to have someone like you. If you're working too hard, it's never worth it. Who wants to be with someone you have to try and convince? To explain why it would be a great thing? What kind of "how we met story" is that?

"Well Timmy, your father just kept holding out, holding out, and being persistent as fuck even though I had kept avoiding the subject entirely."
-places hand on shoulder of father-
"And finally, after our 23rd discussion on why we should be together (actually it was more HIM talking than me, so I guess it's not really a discussion per se)... I finally threw my hands up in surrender! And here we are today. Want a cookie?"

My something was the day I realized I knew I could get a hold of someone (via text, Skype, or email) who lived across the Atlantic... more than I ever could with Beth. And it's not just me making the effort to talk, I find that I too, wake up with "Good morning!" texts and emails waiting for me. Beth and I had some great times together, but if I was going to be honest with myself... she really wasn't even a good friend, whether she really did have feelings for me or not.

* * *

I think a fair amount of people have the unfortunate luck of experiencing something like this. It's extremely humiliating to feel like you've been duped... that your instincts were dead wrong.

If I were to do it all over again, I would. Perhaps I wouldn't have let it last as long as I did before I put a foot down. But I don't regret at all giving someone a chance to prove me wrong. I'll continue to have faith that there are some people out there mean what they say and have good intentions. No regrets.

So@24's One Year Anniversary Variety Hour (w/ an Intro by Leo)

An intro by my roommate and best friend:

It happened on an ordinary Friday morning in early June, near the corner of Sepulveda and Jefferson in Los Angeles. You wouldn't have noticed if you were standing nearby—there was no commotion, no herald announcing its arrival, no fanfare to be observed. It arrived quietly and unnoticed, as most great things do.

The sun continued to shine, the warm breeze to softly blow. But it happened nonetheless. In a moment, it just appeared-- a blip, a spark, in the vast abyss of cyberspace.

It was born out of the pieces of a shattered self, and its creator presented it to us with a humble shrug. At 11:11am on that June morning, exactly one year ago, someone decided to start over at the age of 24. The rest, as they say, is history.

Despite being prone to "fly by", a year is a long time. I've had the pleasure of riding shotgun to So through it all, and it's given me a great deal of perspective. Now, I could go on about how much he's grown, how well he's weathered the storm, how I know he'll continue to sally forth with a wry smile and sharp tongue, and how it's been a privilege to be part of it all.

This is his blog though, his chronicle, and I'm taking up precious space. I will say this though—thanks for everything, and everything to come.

As someone once wrote, this should be interesting.

I wish you luck.

- Leo

* * *

Why, hello there.

I didn't even realize it has already been 365 days since I first started rambling on about my pathetic, reluctant, grasping-onto-the-door-frame, journey into singledom.

I think the best post I can do for this entry is to do what is to be expected for a blog of my type: to have a "retrospective". To go back and read the first few entries and to compare it to how I was then to how I am now.

I wish I could go back and say the following things:

I've found true love since then.
I've had 3 girlfriends since then.
I've met one girl that wanted to date me seriously since then.
I've dated one girl since then.
I've slept with someone since then.
I boned some broad in the bathroom at some house party since then.
I've felt a boob, under-the-shirt since then.
I've felt a boob, over-the-shirt since then.

I have done none of the sort.

However, I have changed and grown quite a bit within that year. And perhaps this will shed some light on the random commenters who I stumbled upon, talking shit about my blog on some random Poker Strategy site.

Why I still let shit like that bother me, I'm not sure.

* * *

I remember my first introduction to the blogging world, was one that Leo himself started (and canceled soon after... sorry ladies). It consisted of short entries, a random picture every other entry with funny captions, and witty commentary about the most banal things that almost anyone experiences in their own lives.

But it was hilarious. And it was honest.

I wanted to share something too. What story could I tell? And what if I stuck to a theme...

My thoughts turned to the only thing that it could at the time. My breakup with Lynn was very real and something I still was losing sleep over. I can honestly say that I felt as though I was the only person to go through these circumstances. Of course, I was not vain in the sense that I was the only person to ever go through a serious breakup with their first love. But!

I thought it was interesting that I had dated only one person, all throughout the most vital eras where "normal people" meet and date members of the opposite sex: e.g. high school and college. I was in a fraternity, for fuck's sake! All of my friends have had at least three girls they have dated and or slept with! They knew what to expect the next time around. They learned from their own mistakes, learned from their girlfriend's (or hook up's) mistakes, they knew what to do.

We're talking even the most simple rules you learn along the way... like, "do you bring a condom no matter what??" or " Can what you have in your room actually be the kryptonite to vagina?"

I was 24 years old. Thrown into the jungle with a loin cloth and a homemade spear. Life tapped me on my tender lil' ass and said, "Good luck, buddy".

I started my blog for three reasons:

1. It was nice to get my thoughts out, no matter how whiny or bitchy, and just leave it out there without getting judged too harshly. Pro tip: your friends, no matter how badass they are, will get sick of your shit after awhile.

2. The dating stories, I had experienced, were entertaining enough for my friends to repeat to each other and to get genuine laughs out of... why not share it?

3. And ultimately, I wished I had something to read like this when I was going through it. So I didn't feel so alone.


So. What have I learned since then?

I am blessed to be in a situation that I feel a lot of people my age do not get to experience. Despite the fact that my ex-girlfriend put me through the most pain imaginable (I'd still rather have my testicles tossed underhanded into a salad shooter), I didn't let her decision make me lose sight of what a great friend and how important she was to be throughout the six years we dated. When we started talking again and establishing a friendship is one of the greatest things I've experienced.

We experienced high school, college, and post college together... arguably the years that shape who you are.. She was (and still is) an extremely important and significant person to me. I am glad that we are still friends, can talk honestly and openly about our mistakes, and aren't bitter about our relationship ending.

I learned what it was like to get rejected by someone who I thought, for sure, was as equally interested in me. Although it wasn't a straight out, black & white, rejection... I learned that if you have to fight for something too much... then she's really not all that interested. And besides, do you want to really be with someone who is resisting at all? Doesn't sound too promising to me.

I learned that there aren't a set of rules to go about a proper a break up. Society can suck it. You CAN be civil and be friends with your ex. You CAN maintain a relationship with family members of your ex. And YES, it can be healthy.

I learned what it's like to get giddy again, regardless of how much sense it makes.

* * *

There is still so much more to learn and I will continue to keep writing about it.

I still don't know what it's like to be on a first date.

I still don't know what it's like to sleep with someone new. Will I ever get to experience what "the flying hippo" is all about?

I still don't know what it's like to kiss someone who I actually get those ever elusive, ever cliche' butterflies over.

-shrug-


It's been a fun year and I want to thank all the readers who have stuck around since the beginning (Pud, Blinds), who tried it once and passed, who had the courage to email me their own stories (fuck it, I'm also going to thank all the "hate mail" too), who took the plunge and came to me for relationship advice, and finally... to those of you who are discovering it for the first time. Welcome!

I'm actually going to crack a beer right now and cheers:

"here's hoping you'll stick around and teach me a thing or two"

The Shacking Patterns of Women

Shacking.

Girls sleeping over and staying in the bed of a male that is someone who is not a significant other.*

This isn't something that I'm particularly used to (not a surprise that a long term girlfriend would frown upon me doing this when we dated), but after Jenny stayed over... I conjured up a theory. As I often tend to do.

My theory is: girls shacking methods might be correlated with their personalities.

And since I really only have two girls as my case studies, they will have to do in order to explain my train of thought.

Beth

Shacking Habits:

• passed out in her dress on New Years
• will often grab a t-shirt from my drawer on her own
• sleeps in my t-shirt and undies
• passes out
  
• since I only have one pillow, we share it
  

Personality Traits:

• Disorganized, frantic in stressful situations
  
• spontaneous/sporadic
• go-with-the-flow attitude
• Ideal Evening = Rusty Nails followed by grilled cheese sandwiches and reruns of Strangers with Candy and/or cartoons
  
• has been known to chase Monarch vodka w/ Grey Goose
  

Jenny

Shacking Habits:

• Asked me to provide shorts and a t-shirt
• Requested an additional pillow (Thanks Leo!)
  
• falls asleep
• Ideal Evening = dancing and reruns of Sex & the City and/or Friends
  
• fell asleep in a very casual, proper manner (if that makes sense)

Personality Traits:

• Extremely organized
• likes to have events/gatherings planned out in advance
• focused, goal driven
  
• enjoys a good wine
  

Again, just a theory. Not sure how credible it is, but it was two examples that are very different when provided with the same scenario.




* good catch, Commenter!

Key to the Past

Jenny was on her way to pick me up for our bi-monthly night of sushi. I, in classic fashion, could not for the life of me find my house keys in the warzone-aftermath that is my desk.

I was getting out of the shower, scrambling to put one leg through a pair of jeans and shoveling trash off my desk to find this illusive key, when suddenly I knocked over a picture frame on my desk.

Something caught my eye. A tiny piece of paper sticking out of the back of the frame.

"What the fuck..."

I open the back of the picture frame and nestled inside was a worn piece of notebook paper.

I recognize the handwriting immediately. A note from Beth.


After my first read, I slowly sat down at the edge of my bed. Imagine the scene for a second: water is dripping off my hair into tiny puddles on the hardwood floor, Jenny will be at the door any second now, I am in my boxers with only one jean leg on, reading this note. Confused as fuck.

When was this written? Based off the context, it had to have been years ago when I was in college.

But what's really said in this? What's Beth trying to tell me? It does provide some insight into why reasons why nights like this have happened. And she says some extremely kind words, but does it really give me insight to what's going on in that brain of her's? Not really. It's the same kind of vague, I'm almost going to say something that will absolutely turn your world upside down...

... but nevermind.

It's been too long since this letter was written to do anything about it now.

Tequila, Tequila, Tequid64ncZShkcskldfz

"Yep, we're only drinking tequila for my birthday. That's the rule."

"Well. This should be interesting."

With a "strictly tequila" night, things are going to get a little nutty. Especially when it's celebrating one of my friends from college (sorority sisters w/ Beth actually), Jenny's birthday. Living in Manhattan Beach, we both find it hard to meet up, but when we do I always a great time.

Of course, what is a celebration without bringing my partners in crime Leo, Jack, and my old roommate Kevin with me (Leroy had a girlfriend night)? We crammed into The Honey Wagon IV, my sweet ride if you really want to know, and headed to the beach.

Jose Cuervo and I were best pals that evening. After tangoing with him for the early part of the evening, we moved to a bar to do some real dancing.

I don't dance. Unless I'm tanked. Just as I had a pint of Newcastle to my lips, Jenny grabbed me by the hand and tugged me into the crowd of dancers, sloshing my beer on the bar floor. Leo and I both agree that there's something amazing about a drunk girl, grabbing your hand and leading you to the dance floor (even though she's just a friend).

I can't remember the last time I danced, but I forgot how much it can be. Although I can guarantee Jenny and I tearing up the dance floor was not the least bit graceful. But fuck. Hands on a girl's hips, spinning her, dipping her... that's the good stuff I miss. Reminds me of the very few times Lynn and I danced. I'll admit I got a little nostalgic about frat dances and even high school proms w/ Lynn. I'll blame it on the booze.

get down.

The tequila sloshing around wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, but I could tell that Leo, Jack, and Kevin were getting tired of watching me flailing around like an idiot. It was time to go.

But before we got into the car, we decided it would be a good idea to run around on the beach like drunken idiots. For some reason, I take this time to call Lynn. We have a pleasant 10 minute drunken conversation... we are both drunk and we make each other laugh over something that probably wasn't all that funny.

When we get home, I overhear Leo lay down some serious game; we're talking epic. This guy doesn't fuck around, I swear to you I can't make this stuff up. I eavesdrop on a conversation Leo has with one of his bootycalls.

Leo: I think you should come over and take your clothes off.
[brief pause for response]
Leo: Because I want to see you naked.
[brief pause for response]
Leo: Okay, my address is...

I'm telling you, homeboy is that good.

I wake up at 11:00am with a call from Jenny and a terrible hangover that can only be created through tequila.

"You bastard, Jose. You win again."

Jenny: Thanks for leaving me last night!
So@24: What did I do??
Jenny:: I chalked up another number. With my neighbor.
So@24: It was your birthday! Who cares? Enjoy the moment.
Jenny:: Guh. If I had you there this wouldn't have happened!

Hear that, parents? Your daughters are safe with me!

Oh. What's this? I have a text message from Beth. Balls. And the following text exchange occurs:

Beth: Um. I just got your message.
So@24: Oh? What did I text?
Beth: You didn't text. Voicemail.
So@24: Oh boy. What did I say?
Beth: You really don't remember?
So@24: I didn't even know my own name last night.
Beth: You rapped.

Go me.

The Wedding Pt. 2: Is There a Problem, Officer?

Beth and I woke up to a beautiful Portland afternoon. And as much as we wanted to spend the rest of the day lying around in bed, we had a wedding to prepare for.

Our first stop was the liquor store; this was the night we were going to go all out. Because the wedding was "cash bar only" (lame) and we knew that we had to take the Portland MAX to get to the church, we purchased 3 pints of whiskey.

Beth had to get formal flats for the wedding; we stopped in a store and did so. I had a hankering for some ice cream, so as we continued running errands we passed back and forth a scoop of lemon aid sorbet in a sugar cone. I still needed a gift. We swung by Kitchen Kaboodle and I quickly grabbed a certificate. It was lunch time and an outdoor cafe' looked like just the spot.

The previous paragraph is so saccharine, I would not be surprised if readers had to reach over and puke into the nearest trash receptacle. But running errands on a Saturday afternoon in gorgeous weather with a cute girl is something I haven't done for quite sometime. And I can admit that it was fun, among the other things I've missed about being in a relationship.

After lunch, I was in desperate need for a nap (fine, it was probably the giant Bloody Marys we had) and passed out face down on her bed. And for the next hour, Beth sat next to me talking to her mom on the phone, while I snoozed.

It was getting close to game time. I grabbed my dress clothes and stared in horror when I pulled a terribly wrinkled dress shirt from my overstuffed suitcase.

So@24: Oh great. I can't iron worth shit!
Beth: Give it to me.
So@24: Are you sure??
Beth:: I don't mind, I promise! Go get in the shower.

While Beth ironed, I scribbled directions to the church from the MAX station. An hour later, Beth was putting the finishing touches on her makeup and I was pouring a pint of whiskey into a bottle of 7 Up.

The MAX was a fun ride and to pass the time, we took swigs of our 7 & 7.

Our stop was in the middle of absolutely nowhere. We seemed to be in some type of industrial area, so we walked down a barren street trying to find the church. After finally finding the church, we realized we were early.

Beth: Oh look! There's a bar right across the street. Think we have time for a beer?
So@24: Absolutely.

I imagine we looked ridiculously out of place, swilling beers in our dress clothes and immediately to our right was a table of stereotypical townsfolk: clearly underage, wearing hoodies of colleges they never attended, discussing how difficult it was to find a sitter for the night. We slammed our beers and headed into the wedding.

The wedding was "okay", nothing to write home about. I was surprised at how little people from high school actually attended. Beth tugged on my arm at one point and said, "If you introduce me as 'my friend' Beth one more time, you're dead!"

"Alright! Sorry! Sorry!", I laughed back at her.

I found one of my old wrestling buddies and the remainder of the night was spent slamming shots of whiskey with him, his girlfriend, and Beth. Did I mention Beth and I polished off our 7 & 7? Whoops.

Soon, the couple was leaving the wedding and thinking I must have time traveled via whiskey, I checked my watch. 11:30? Damn this was a fast wedding. We didn't even get to dance!

Disclaimer: Shit goes down. Seriously.

This is when the night gets a little hazy and takes an utterly disastrous turn for the worst. In fact I can't even think of how to transition into the next part.

Beth and I are:

1. in the middle of nowhere (industrial area with little to no street lights)
   
2. bellies full of whiskey
3. yelling at each other about every single skeleton in the closet we could possibly bring up about our dark, tangled, relatively unspoken history.
   

At the climax of our screaming match, I am in the middle of the road yelling after Beth who is storming off,

"I can't believe I jeopardized my relationship with Lynn to maintain this friendship! Look where it's gotten me!"

Beth: Don't follow me! You're finding your own way home!
So@24: Fine!

I'm not sure how much time elapsed, but I realize that I have no idea how to get to ANY place where a cab could find me. Besides, all my shit is at Beth's apartment. I don't know where I am. Even worse, I just let a girl stumble off into alone, in a strange, dimly lit, industrial area.

Good fucking work, So@24.

With my dress shirt half unbuttoned, I run my hand through my messy hair, and start off in the general direction where Beth stormed off.

I don't have to go far before I see cop lights flashing. Approaching the cop car, I see Beth is wiping away tears talking to a police officer.

Fuck me.

So@24: What's going on? Is there a problem, Officer?
5-0: Stay right there, sir. I'll need to see your ID. [to Beth] Is this the gentleman you were arguing with?
Beth: Yes.
5-0: [speaking into the radio on his shoulder] I've located the young man. Looks like we have some kind of dispute going on here.
So@24: [through gritted teeth] Jesus Christ, Beth.
5-0: I'm going to call you both separate cabs. Is this man a threat to you?
Beth: No, Officer. He's my friend. We just got into a fight. We'll take separate cabs back.
So@24: No, we won't. We don't need to take separate cabs.
5-0: I think it would be better if you did.

I shot daggers at Beth.

Beth: We can take one cab.
5-0: Are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured.
Beth: Yes. We'll be fine.

The cop points to an area where a cab will pick us both up.

Of course, we don't go there. We continue our argument, but this time I'm livid that this cop thought I was a threat to her. Beth explains that he just stopped her when he saw she was walking alone.

Fast forward 20 minutes.

We end up in some strip mall parking lot, sitting on a curb, calming talking through all our shit. In the middle of our heart to heart, two bar flies approach us. We both grumble and immediately stop our conversation to appease these two drunks (pot calling kettle black, I know). We play nice.

Their cab pulls into the parking lot and they offer to share their cab with us. Fine. We get in and bum a ride off of them before directing the cabbie to drive us back to downtown Portland. One of the guys nudges me with his dirty elbow and whispers, "Hoo wee. You did some good work, scoring with this one." He winks and points to the front seat where Beth is sitting.

"Thanks."

After what seems like hours, we pull up to Beth's apartment. We tumble into her room; she puts her blond hair into a pony tail and changes into shorts and a t shirt. I strip to my boxers.

We stay up talking for a little longer... but at one point look each other and our let our eyes do the talking, "I'm tired. You're tired. We're both fucking wasted. I'm sorry. Let's just go to bed".

Sleep comes to us easily.

***

That same afternoon sun wakes us up. I groggily reach over Beth and grab a bottle of Orangina and finish half a bottle with no more than 3 giant gulps. We lie in bed staring at the ceiling before Beth starts to speak.

Beth: I don't want to get drunk like that with you again.
So@24: Yeah. I think that's a good idea.
Beth: Friday night was perfect. Last night was terrible.
So@24: No argument here.

Her and I talk more about last night, but instead of shedding light on anything... we are left with more questions than answers. But to not spoil my last few hours in Portland and to salvage what little time we had left, we bury the hatchet.

Things will not be the same.

Think it is safe to say, this may be the last of Beth.

The Wedding Pt. 1: Breaking the Rules

I should have been able to predict the future events as the foreshadowing played right before me as I stepped off the plane into Portland.

"There are a lot of blond-girl-with-asian-guy couples hanging out in this terminal. Weird."

I took a spendy cab to Powell's bookstore and stumbled upon a fucking gem that I'm going to purchase soon (when I can afford to eat more than cans of tuna for dinner). I actually found myself laughing out loud, thumbing through mini-essays of Things I've Learned From the Women Who Dumped Me while waiting for Beth to get out of work.

As I saw her coming up the crosswalk to meet me, I could feel my heart in my throat. She had her trademark sideways smile on her face that I've always loved and her blond locks slightly bouncing with each step. And she remembered to wear flats. Fuck, she remembered to wear flats!

But I had to stick to my rule of "non-coupley, mind-fucking shit" this time around. We hugged, smiled and quickly grabbed lunch.

We briefly caught up and when we finished we playfully argued for a bit who was going to pay for lunch. She had a few things to take care of before she clocked out, so I waited for her in her studio apartment.

I must admit, it took every fiber of my being not to snoop around to get ANY evidence in writing that actually she had/has feelings for me. But I knew that if I went through with my plan to search the apartment like a forensic scientist, I'd feel like an absolute shit... so instead I shaved my beard while I took a shower.

I called my little brother up and he came and met me at a bar just outside of her apartment for a couple beers. We always have our serious talks over beer.

Lil' Bro: So now that we can talk about shit... what's the real deal with you and Beth?
So@24: What do you mean?
Lil' Bro: Shut the fuck up. This has been going on forever. What's going on?
So@24: Nothing, man. Beth and I finally addressed it, we're not doing that shit anymore.
Lil' Bro: Hmmm. Talk to Lynn lately?
So@24: Not for a couple of weeks.
Lil' Bro: I see.

When Beth finally got off work, my Lil' Bro took off while Beth and I headed to another bar. We drowned a couple of shots and shared stories & nachos. We spent most of the time discussing why fake cheese is perfect and caught up on each other's lives.

Afterwards, we stopped at Trader Joe's, picked up two bottles of champagne and a carton of orange juice.

Beth: I'm getting calls and texts from people that want to finally meet you and are wondering if we want to go out tonight. Do you feel like going?
So@24: I'm actually kind of tired. Maybe we should save tonight and go all out tomorrow for the wedding?
Beth: I was thinking the same thing.

While I dug in my suitcase to find the copy of The Orphanage that Leo was able to secure for me, Beth was stripping blankets from her bed to lay on the hardwood floor in front of her television.

Maybe it was a mixture of the mimosas, the shots, the beers that was causing my brain to swim... but I had a decision to make at that moment.

Am I going to stick to my rule of not going into couple mode? Or am I just going to enjoy the moment for what it is?

I picked the latter.

We laid down on our pathetic (albeit endearing) makeshift bed and watched an absolutely terrifying movie. I had an arm around her neck holding onto her shoulder (it went numb numerous times, but I didn't dare move it) and she had a hand on my chest and a leg draped over my thighs.

It felt comfortable. And it felt fucking nice. Being single and alone, my initial thought was: I've missed this shit. I didn't care if it wouldn't ever amount to anything serious. I figured, if I didn't allow myself to think too far ahead and over-analyze every move (as I often am guilty of); I might be able for once to just enjoy the goddamn moment.

The way I figured it: moments like these aren't going to be around forever. I'm going to find a girlfriend or, more likely, she is going to find a boy. As long as I don't read into anything and just appreciate the situation for what it is, it would be fine. I was happy for just a few hours. I miss fucking kissing the top of a girl's head and being that close to "girl smell" (her's is baby powder, if you're really curious).

And that's what I did. That's what we did. I stole a couple quick kisses during the movie and she leaned over for one herself.

When the movie ended and I saw that her eyes were shut tight, I gently poked her awake. She protested (with her eyes still closed), "I don't want to go to sleep yet."

"Come on let's just go to bed."

We remade the bed. I stripped into boxers, she put on a sweatshirt and pajama pants. We passed out, fingers interlocked.

Scottish Sitcom

So@24: Do you think you can work your connections and get me a copy of The Orphanage before I leave this weekend?
Leo: I think so. Why? Who are you sending it to/watching it with?
So@24: Beth and I have been talking about watching it.
Leo: Oh! Shit with Beth...
Leo: Ah...
So@24: Don't give me that "ah" shit.
Leo: ...
Leo: ... ah...
Leo: -stretch-
Leo: Ahhhh...
So@24: You're a bastard.
Leo: (in Scottish accent) Snuggle close, young lassy, and embrace me to keep away your frights. Aye.
So@24: ...
So@24: So are you going to give me the DVD or not, bonnie lass?
Leo: I'm checking if we have it, dick.

Gerbil in a Cornfield

Beth: Come on, admit it.
So@24: Admit what?
Beth: You still have feelings for her.
So@24: There's a difference between still having reminiscing, nostalgic feelings for someone you dated 6 years with VS. being this shell of a man who is losing sleep and can't do normal functions of his life because he's engulfed with a girl.
Beth: It's not one or the other. There's a middle ground in there. I'm sorry for teasing.
So@24: I do miss certain things though. I miss how everything with her was black and white. I knew how she felt about me and that she legitimately cared about me and I never once questioned it. I guess when you don't have that, you miss the simplicity and security of it all.

And then when you lose 'em, you're like a gerbil in a cornfield... terrified of all these eagles circling overhead.
Beth: At least you can be proud of your own character now, if not the past. I mean, imagine if you two ever got back together... it would be a much, much, much better relationship
So@24: I'm still racked with guilt at what a shitty boyfriend I was. But you're right, it was definitely a bucket of ice water dumped on me.
Beth: At least you got the opportunity to be have that conversation with her. Salvage at last something from the relationship and be happy that you got a chance to apologize and have her hear you.

Freudian Dreams "The Spy Who Shoved Me"

I actually hate when people tell me their dreams.

"Oh man, it was so weird! You have to listen to it."

And then they go off for like 10 mins. and the entire time you have to fake like it's interesting, when really... it's never as cool unless you're actually the one experiencing it.

But. The one I had last night was extremely bizarre and I think Freud would pop a chub over this bad boy. And I really don't think I had any dreams quite like this when I was dating.

And since it played out like a movie, I present it in screenplay format:

"THE SPY WHO SHOVED ME"

INT. BARRACKS OF A WWII GERMAN BATTLESHIP - NIGHT

Our hero, So@24, is fast asleep on a military cot.

Suddenly, a crack of light from a doorway pours over his face. Someone has entered the room.

The intruder's hand clamps over So@24's mouth and as a result, his eyes shoot open in a panic. He begins to struggle but sees that it's his covert comrade FRAULINE BETH, a blond, voluptuous, spy with an eye patch. She has her finger to her lips, "sssh-ing" him.

So@24, sensing the urgency, scrambles as fast as he can to get into his German military fatigues, but Beth grabs him by the collar pullinh as he's shoving his leg into his pants.

EXT. DECK - NIGHT

Beth has pressed So@24 up against the railing of the deck. Other than the waves of the Atlantic lapping against the ship, it's quiet. Stars are unusually bright.

So@24
Beth! What is this all about?? You're going to get us killed.
If the Germans find out we're working together as spies;
we're dead.
How can you be so careless??

Beth doesn't say a word, but takes a step closer.

A beat.

They embrace.

So@24 isn't quite sure what to make of this strange turn of events. His eyebrows furrow in confusion, but eventually his eyes shut and he enjoys the moment.

The kiss doesn't last long. Suddenly, Beth pulls back and then palms his face like a basketball.

So@24
What the--

A smarmy smile spreads across Beth's face and with her arm extended and with a flick of her wrist, she shoves So@24 over the railing.

So@24
Nooooooooooooooo!

We hear a sickening splash. Beth pulls a thin cigarette from her breast pocket and lights up.

Fade to black.

Leo's Soapbox: The Wedding

So@24: I just got a FedEx package. It's filled with tons of candy.
Leo: ... from?
So@24: Guess.
Leo: Andy? Or Lynn?
So@24: Nope, but both good guesses.
Leo: Beth?
So@24: Yeeeeeup.
-flicks toothpick-
Leo: Did she include the composite of her and your high school yearbook photos to show what your kids might look like?
So@24: How'd you know?
Leo: You got raged on for thinking of taking Beth to the wedding on the ol' bloggy.
So@24: I sure did. But that was to be expected.
Leo: But I don't think you should take her because you two will get wasted and do something dumb. Or maybe just have sex.
So@24: ...
Leo: I'm going to call it now. Now that things are out in the open, Beth is going to try and regain your interest and vis a vis her self esteem by swooning you, alcohol will come into play and you'll end up drunk and fucking.
So@24: Why would we now when we haven't the last two times booze was involved?
Leo: Because things are out in the open now.
So@24: I'm not sure I'm following how your point leads to that conclusion.
Leo: Things are spoken... the attraction is acknowledged... it makes moving forward easier. Essentially, the slope is slippier.
So@24: I dunno, man. Especially now that we are both supposed to be on our best behavior... cutting out the coupley shit. I'm looking at it like a test.
Leo: Boobs and alcohol are your kypotonite. And apparently she puts the blood in your pee pee. All the ingredients present, just mix and bake.
So@24: My feeling is that New Years was it. If it didn't happen then, it's not going to happen now.
Leo: That's just my call.

Preparing for Battle (Or a Wedding... whatever)

I'm at that age when everyone I grew up with is getting hitched.

I took part in my first wedding a year ago, as a groomsmen, when my two very close high school friends got married to each other. It wasn't surprising, everyone knew they'd get together. For the record, I gave an amazing drunken speech (the wedding was in the midst of the breakup, what can I say? I was smashed.)

Last week I got an invite in the mail for another wedding of a friend of mine from high school.

Fuck.

Another one? Why is everyone getting hitched? I'm sweating just thinking about it.

However, what I'm dreading the most is that my friend who is getting married is one of those kids who stayed close with all of her teachers even after high school. Also, there will be a lot of my old peers I haven't seen since my Jansport wearin', Sugar Ray rockin', Mt. Dew: Code Red guzzlin' days.

So, you may be wondering, why would I give two shits about seeing these blasts from the past?

Well, the fact is, is that I haven't had contact with these people since then. Lynn and I were a well established couple in high school and most of these people (yep, including teachers/my wrestling and soccer coaches) will assume that we're still together. I'm cringing just thinking about the onslaught of comments:

"Hey! Where's Lynn?"
"Are you two married yet?"
"You guys were such a cute couple."
"What happened with you two?"

How does one avoid this? Well, the way I figure is, you gotta treat it like a high school reunion (I haven't had one of those yet). I gotta look crisp, put together, like an adult! That's going to cost me some serious cheddy...

And most importantly, I have to have a smokin' date. It'll give off the impression that I'm slick, smooth, and have the ability to charm the pants of the opposite sex a la' 007 in Casino Royale. Hot date = no questions about where the ex is.

Now, who lives in Portland? Would escort me to a wedding at the last minute? Is hot? Can (and has) put up with my inebriated tomfoolery when I've visited the open bar one too many times...

Ahhh...

I know.

No More Pussyfootin'

The past two days have been... interesting.

The past two days I have been in intense discussions with Beth about discussing the letter.

As I had already predicted, she was hesitant to discuss it... thought it would be more appropriate to discuss in person rather than IM. Which is completely understandable. Finally sweeping out years of history from under the rug is pretty significant.

However, the weeks have been rolling on and still no definite plans were being made to meet to have this Armageddon conversation.

It finally reached a boiling point on Tuesday and I told her that this conversation needed to happen and I wasn't going to sit around to wait until the flood water to rise above my head. No more pussyfooting. It's time for us to be adults and finally point out the fucking elephant in the goddamn living room that has been freeloading and eating all my Funyuns for the last few years.

Let me express that my goal of this conversation isn't to get some definitive answer from her like, "what are we" but to finally address the weird, fuzzy haze between friends and couple-y shit that goes on. And if we're going to be just friends... to be JUST friends. Which I am 100% okay with.

Our conversation Tuesday ended rather rough/abruptly (angry, IM convos... brings me back to my middle school days, if you'll excuse me, I got some "Dookie" to play). Her last line to me was, "You know if we do this, no one is for us".

An interesting thought. Which she is right about. Considering all the drama that has circled us for years, a lot of the people who have witnessed our tango would disapprove. Which got me wondering, how important IS it to have your friends give their 100% approval? I mean, at 25 years old, does it really matter? What happens if there is a family started with this particular girl? Is it going to matter if my old college drinking buddy Steve doesn't like her?

I digress.

I was about to dust my hands of the entire thing on Tuesday. It really made me miss the security of being in that 6 year relationship. I never had to deal with this wishy-washy bullshit. I knew where I stood and everything was black and white. Fuck, I miss that. All this waiting and confusion doesn't sit well with me.

And then yesterday morning, someone suddenly had a change of heart. I got a "I want you to come to Portland".

This talk is finally going to happen once and for all.

Err.

I think.

How I Spent My Valentine's Day

Beth: I'm bored. Know what we should do?
So@24: What?
Beth: Get red or pink construction paper, staple two pieces together and make Valentine's Day mailboxes!
So@24: We'll tape them to our desks! I actually have some right here. Dammit, I wish I would have thought of this earlier... it's 2:00 already!
Beth: Just like second grade.
So@24: I'm doing it right now.
Beth: And when people come to talk to us, just keep on smiling really wide and then they talk, just eyeball the envelope over and over.

This is my actual creation hanging outside my cube. Taken via cellphone

My boss put in a Valentine shortly after...

"Thanks for making me go to this 2:30 meeting. You rock."

And then I sent one to Beth.


And a text from Leo: Happy Valentines Day, mancrushes. Here's to getting drunk tonight.



Happy VDay to all my fellow single-ites!

To those of you who have significant others...

Suck it.

And yes, I am crossing my arms over my crotch just like the professional wrestlers.

The Plot Thickens

So.

She got it.

She read it.

But she'd like to discuss it by means other than IM. Which is understandable, it's what I wanted to do initially. I'd rather have this type of conversation where I can physically look across the table at someone.

We started to get into it, but we stopped ourselves from diving in too quickly over the computer. She said something that definitely made me stumble back like King Hippo in Mike Tyson's Punch Out (too nerdy of a reference for you? Alright moving on).


Beth: I think that I put it out there when you and Lynn broke up and I got pushed away rather harshly. That's a lot of the reason I jumped in with Rich [shitty couple #2].
So@24: What do you mean?
Beth: Like calling you everyday. Texting. Emailing. And nothing back from you.
Beth: One day you texted me, "What do you want me to do? I'm trying to get my girlfriend back."

I didn't remember that I had done this until she mentioned it. But it was like a cartoony light bulb suddenly lit over my head, generated too much energy, and then the glass burst leaving a cracked, blackened bulb with smoke trailing into the air.


What is it about going through a breakup that makes you completely oblivious to the world around you? Your only focus is on what's going on with your soon-to-be ex, everything else seems to be insignificant and trivial.

Apparently my horse blinders were on and I didn't even think twice about Beth during that tumultuous time. Maybe I should have?


Oh. Did I mention that Mimi surprised me and is flying me up to Seattle this weekend to celebrate my birthday? Apparently there is quite the list of attendees going to be able to come out and celebrate the day I emerged from the womb.

Did I mention Beth will be up in Seattle?

...


Hmmm.

This Is Why I Crush

I've read studies that show that guys are NOT attracted to "funny" girls; girls who can make you laugh, chuckle, slap your knee, etc.

I never got that. A girl who can crack me up always gets high marks (even more so if she laughs at MY jokes). Humor is the most attractive quality to me; hook line and sinker. Whoa, two references where I place myself as a fish... what does that say about how I view myself?

Beth: Go to this.
So@24: ???
Beth: I said that to you in our night in Portland!
So@24: Oh yeah!
Beth: Jerk.
So@24: Well what did we walk in between? You say that when you're holding hands with someone and something comes in between you two that breaks the link.
Beth: You don't remember anything ever.
So@24: Yes I do! I think we just remember different stuff. I always think I remember more than you.
Beth: Dream away, Lover Boy.
So@24: You'll be eating those words soon enough. Just wait til you get my letter, then you'll be eating those words soon enough. I put it in a cool envelope too, you can't miss it.
Beth: What is it? Does it say something googly? What does it say?
So@24: What does that mean?
Beth: Googly. Moosh cake factory. Is it going to make me cry? I'm not reading it.
So@24: Yes you are. You are going to read it. It's going to be a serious problem producing a child if you can't handle "moosh cake factory"
Beth: It's that kind of mooshy!? Porno mooshy?
So@24: Yes, Beth. I sent you a porno letter in a Nickelodeon-esque type envelope. Aren't you excited?
Beth: I don't even know how to answer that one to be honest. I think one of my fantasies might be to one day do the deed on a big orange couch. I cannot lie about that.
Beth: Excuse me, "the" big orange couch.
So@24: I don't think I've ever been more turned on by you in all the years I've known you as I am now.

Home girl knows the way to my heart. I'm such a sucker.



** Fireside Friday is on the way! I crank it out during my lunch break.

I Can't Be Sexy

So@24: My fortune cookies says that I am "open and honest with my philosophy on love"
Beth: Bow chicka bow wow
So@24: That's the first thing you thought of? Wtf!?
Beth: I imagined you in a satin red button up shirt that showed your chest hair. On a big red heart pillow.
So@24: Do I have an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne? Does the heart shaped bed have a coin slot on the side so it can vibrate?
Beth: Hell yes. And your disco ball has a subtle spin. I can hear Barry White's soothing voice filling the room.
So@24: I imagine you opening the door, but you're carrying 3 bags of heavy groceries, a winter jacket in jeans and a scarf.

"What the hell is this? Knock it off and help me carry these groceries in."

Beth: That's exactly how it would be. Except now I'm thinking your satin shirt would be a satin robe. The kind that cuts off before the knee.
So@24: Then the record scratches and Barry would be interrupted.

"You know you're cleaning up these petals you dumped all over the floor, right?"
"Oh. Uh. Of course."

Beth: hahahaha!

Sealed. Stamped. Sent.

Hungover as all hell from the night before, Jack, Leo and I all went to eat at The House of Breakfast Sunday morning.

We did the usual banter, trying to piece together the events from the night, and eventually the conversation came over to me.

Jack: So what's going on with Beth? What are you doing about that?

I shoved a forkful of cheese omelet in my mouth. "I don't know what I'm going to do yet."

Silence. Then the sound of silverware scraping breakfast plates.

I took a moment to think about what I was going to do: she was actually the one who suggested we "get all our feelings out", so my visiting her in Portland wouldn't have been some sneak attack out of a cliche' romance movie. We discussed me taking a trip up there, but my gut feeling told me that getting everything out in on paper would be better than me nervously trying to remember everything I have been wanting to say for all these years.

Besides. I'm broke. And I'm not a patient man.

"Leo. I need your computer for about an hour."
"I can accommodate that."

So at approximately 11:10 PM, I cracked my knuckles, Leo closed the door and proceeded to type the biggest free write I've ever experienced (my freshman English teachers would be proud).

After about an hour and a half and seven pages later, I stretched and sighed. That's it. That's everything I've ever wanted to say starting from day one. Six years of history all in one Word document. Everything was out on the table. And let me tell you, it felt damn good and liberating. And at the end I wrote, "I think we've hit a crossroads. If we're just friends, we need to be just friends like normal people. No more of these weird signals we both keep sending. We've allowed it to go on for years and we need to figure out what we want to do now."

And honestly, the outcome could go either way and I'm satisfied. Ignorance is certainly not bliss in this case. I've been in the dark for too long now.

I bought a book of stamps this morning, licked the envelope and tossed it in the "outgoing" mail before I wussed out.

-dusts hands-