Patrick

And so he was sitting across from me, and I was trying to think of a believable answer to give. Of course he wouldn't understand my reasonable answer, since when was he a reasonable man?
"I really can't!" I said again. He growled; he really is a bear.
"Stop making excuses and just COME!" He said, a bit louder this time. I looked around the dining room to see if any of the other employees were within earshot.
"I'd really honestly love to. But I just...can't." Go to the beach with him? Drop my work and morals and self control and drive down for a wild weekend at the beach with him? Sounds lovely. But I absolutely would not let it happen, I wouldn't even let myself think of it--oh, too late, I could already see us playing tag on the sand, his huge strides overpowering me in three seconds and sweeping me up-
"No, Patrick, I just can't!" I found myself saying, a bit of a squeak in my voice. He wrinkled his face.
"Fine." He slid off the booth and lumbered into the kitchen, leaving me sitting lonely on the plastic green booth.

I'm dreaming of...

And tonight I dreamed a proposal from Johnny Depp, and Jake, the only guy I've ever really been interested in. I'm not sure which one is more likely to happen.
Johnny proposed to me at a supermarket, with all his random jewelry and a loose white shirt. No glasses, thank God, and the most sincere expression. He told me every day I'd be followed around, "Take a picture of me with my back to you, I"m leaving you, take a picture of you blowing your nose, I"m making you cry. I'm not gonna tell you that it won't happen." But then, he took my hand, and said, "And then, at the end of those crazy days, you'll come home, and the only thing there will be me. Just me, in our big ol' house, ready to keep you company." Of course, I was wildly in love, and accepted.
Jake took a different approach. I dreamed we were the grocery store where he worked, kissing in front of all his teenaged coworkers who looked absolutely shocked and thrilled. He didn't actually speak to me, but I knew he had just proposed. We ran out of his store together. I stopped and turned around and waved at them. Of course, they were jealous of our youthful love, and since it's christmas, there was no reason not to be friendly!

Merry Christmas, may all your wildest dreams come true.

Ryan

He's looking at me with that expression that makes me turn away. Its when he slants his head a bit and lowers his eyes and looks at me with just a small slant in his eyelid, and a knowing smile, as if we're sharing some great secret between just the two of us. I squirm and look away. Of course, he doesn't notice. He's always oblivious to my level of uneasiness. He thinks we're just wonderful.

I've already told him we're just friends. But that was in August, and now its November and he doesn't remember. At least, that's the way it seems by the way he's looking at me. I manage a friendly smile. Friend being the key word. I don't think he gets it.

"So, what are the three things you think you're best at?" I ask casually. I always have to keep the conversation going. Ryan's not much of a talker. He shrugs and looks out into the distance.

"I dunno. I'm not good at much I guess." He says. Ryan doesn't have an impressive repertoire of talents, I know, but I know he has abilities. His father is a carpenter. I know he knows how to build lots of things. And he likes to take pictures. I saw them once-they weren't very good, but he thought they were. Well, there was one or two creative ones.

"come one, you know you know!" I push. He just shakes his head.

"I guess not much." he repeats, "but its whatever." Ryan always says "its whatever." He looks at me admiringly.

"What are the three things you're best at?" He asks. I shrug. If he won't play, neither will I.

"I don't know. I always start things and fail at them." I say. He shakes his head.

"I can think of three things easy. You know tons of music, and don't forget your 96% SATs. And your fashion." He adds. I could have told him those, but they aren't nearly as impressive as he thinks they are. He just doesn't know a lot of creative girls. He thinks I'm brilliant.

"Not really," I say easily, "there are tons of people who know tons about music. I guess the fashion is more than average, but I prolly shouldn't spend so long at it. You can build, that's more practical." I reply. Ryan needs his self esteem boosted a bit, but its a tricky process. He already thinks we're dating, if I compliment him too much, he might whip out an engagement ring. All his siblings were engaged at eighteen. He shakes his head and insists I'm talented.

Oh Ryan.

Diary of A Virgin

"so you're saying your a virgin?" Lil asked me in disbelief. I squirmed, and looked over the roomful of diners to see if any of my tables needed anything. An excuse to help a customer would be a welcome relief. It wasn't that I was ashamed to answer. I'd been answering this question for years now. Its just...well, Lil was a single mom. I didn't want to make her feel terrible. But the truth was the truth, and there was no hiding it.

"Yeah. And proud, I wouldn't want it any other way." I answered confidantly. She looked at me in surprise.

"You really are?" she asked again. I nodded. Her expression changed, and became wistful.

"Wow. That's really good." she said slowly, "I should have done that."

"Well, I know I don't want to give myself to anyone except a man who really respects and loves me, and I haven't found that yet. I'm not going to waste my time, and I don't want to be foolish." I explained, trying to have a gentle, yet purposeful tone. Lil looked at me admiringly. She had to give up so much for chosing the exact oppposite I had chose. I knew now she was regretting it.

"Wow." she said again, "that's really good."

"Thanks. Sometimes its hard," I added, trying to make her feel better. She nodded again.

"I'll bet."

Sam jaunted up and slid into the plastic booth next to me.

"I'm on break!" he announced, "what are we talking about?" I flushed. Sam would never understand.

"I'm not telling." I said determindly. Thankfully, Lil would keep her mouth shut. He leaned in.

"Really? Sounds juicy. What?"

"No, really Sam, nothing." I insisted. "It's girl stuff I'd be embarassed to talk to you about."

"Okay," he shrugged, "whatever."

I asked him what was going on in the kitchen. Lil was still looking at me admiringly.