Waitin for my dearie

"Kate, you're hopeless. Maybe you're a lesbian." My coworker said, with a tone of irritation in his voice, "You're just too picky to ever like a rel guy. So I guess its gotta be a girl."
"No! I'm not, I just need to wait for the right guy. I just can't...go with anyone not good enough,"
"but your kind of guy is impossible!" he protested. I had to laugh. Yes, he certianly was.
"Look, look at my problem.: I said, and I held up his hand. "first," I put down his first finger, "there are the stupid guys that don't think of anything but cars and pranks and stuff, like they never left 3rd grade. Can't deal with that," I put down another finger, "Then, there are the manwhores who only want sex. Obviously, will have nothing to do with them," Third finger, "Then there are the guys that I just don't have anything in common with, like my smart sciencey friends. Nice guys, but I don't know what to do with them, " fourth finger, "Then the good guys, the sweet christian boys who treat me well. But every one i've ever gone out with is so dull and sheltered. None of them challenge me," We were down to his last finger, and he was shaking his head at me.
"And fifth?"
"Fifth are the really interesting, complex guys that I am actually drawn to. But their problem? They're really troubled and often bad. So I won't touch it. See, what am I going to do?"
"Be a lesbian." He answered, a joke, but he thought I was doomed. At that moment, so did I.
"No. Guess I'll just keep waitin."





It was the end of the night, I had one last table as I swept the food remains of the day from the carpet. I felt that the older couple, complacently sharing their medium pepperoni, were watching me. Finally, the gentleman spoke up, "They've got quite a worker in you," he said. I smiled, "Aw thanks. I appreciate that!"
"Do you have a boyfriend?" The woman asked. I was struck by the question; who asks that?
"No, actually, I don't." I answered.
"Well good. Don't you ever settle!" the man said. Wow. Was this straight from Heaven?
"Thank you so much! You have no idea, I was just being chastised by my coworkers about being too picky!"
"No, no! Don't listen to them, you take your time and wait for the right guy. He'll come." He said firmly. I couldn't stop smiling.
"You have no idea how much this means to me. That was the perfect timing."
We talked on about other things, they complimented me and then left a 25% tip.

Well thanks, Somebody who's apparently listening.

reason for conversation unknown.

"do you, like, actually date? You don't date, right?" He looks at me through his glasses with round dark eyes set in a pale very Jewish, and kind of adorable face. His voice is deadpan just like his expression. I cannot tell if he's asking at the request of one of our mutual guy friends, for himself, or if he's just decided to take an interest in me and find out what of the gossip is real. We haven't talked much before that, but we share in common at least 2 close friends. I blink at him, unable to discern exactly what response I should give.
"Well yeah. I go out. I just-" Now I knew what I wanted to say, and my voice got confident. "I don't date casually. And I DON"T randomly hook up." He nodded.
"Okay then, no, that makes sense. I just didn't know-you know, with Joe and Chris and Luke-well and them all-hitting on you all the time. I didn't-"
"I guess I just get used to it. I'm a waitress, anyway. I can be friendly and let them have their fun, but I think I make it pretty clear what my boundary line is." I say. I look at him, trying to read. "Ren thinks I lead people on and its cruel. Do you think I do?"
"I mean, sure. Its reasonable. I mean, coming from a guys point of view I know what they can be thinking.But you have every right to-psh, Ren doesn't know anything."

I am curious as to what he's hearing about me, curious what he knows.
"do they think I'm very religious?"
"Well, from what I've heard I mean yeah-I mean, Christ got the message pretty fast and all."
"I don't like that word, religious. I am a very strong Christian though." I add. I'm not sure what to say after this. People get such horrible ideas when they hear that terrible word, Christian.
"sure." he says.
Nate comes into the room. Nate is a tool and I hate him. I fall silent and so does he, and Nate says something stupid. We go back to work.

Ignore that thudding, please.

i was sleepy and the sofa was soft and he was sitting there next to me slouched towards me. i napped on his shoulder, I do not exaggerate by telling you that my head was the exact right size to fit just under his neck to his shoulder, and I was ridiculously comfortable. We talked a little, murmured in sleepy tones, but drowsed easily.
He smells so delicious. So mild, not the slightest bit musty or manly cologney, just barely fresh like a spring wind.

He had to leave; he said he'd kill anyone who took that seat. Ten minutes later he was back, and I went back to my lovely pillow. So natural.

Too soon it was my turn to have a job, and I stood. As my girlfriend stretched out to fill my seat on the sofa I nodded toward him and said, "he makes a good pillow." He sat up straight. "Excuse me no, invitation's not open to everyone." He said.

No Ren, that jackhammer pounding louder than all the clamor in the room, no that's definitely not my heart.


Psh.

i should be really over talking about this but

So I knew I was more than just amused when I kept dreaming about him. Fuzzy, messy, plotless dreams that all I was aware of was he was with me. But it was a great feeling and I couldn't wait to go back to sleep and dream about him again.

I know I can't, but I will try, to explain just what it is I'm so stupidly attracted to. Its his balance of a heartless-opinionated-egotistical with a tender-vulnerable-open-confused. So many men have one, but I haven't met one that has such a raw and obvious combination.
He'll tell you something is ugly, or announce "I don't like that kid. He's rude." (I always agree with his reviews of people, they are flatly accurate). And then he'll catch you by surprise by saying darling or wishing he could do the shuffle-step part of the tap routine.
He's a talented actor, he loves music, but doesn't carry himself with the heady dreamy silly "i'm artsy" that I can't stand.

What else, I won't deny, he touches me. Not just me-he leans on everyone. And they all seem to be used to it. But I'm not. So it catches me by surprise when. He sits on my lap, leans against me in a doorway, lifts me up and carries me along the hall for no reason. We went to a party and saw a movie; he sat behind me and I leaned against his chest. We went to a restaurant that had a bench seat, he laid in my lap.
I love the way he grabs my hair, like he has some right to it.

And all the complications of the man swirl so blatantly and i really like it.

But don't worry, I know. Its still oh well.

more than oh well

I thought it was going to be oh well because it has to be oh well, and it is oh well, except for i'm much more unsatisfied by that then I thought I'd be. I saw him yesterday for the last time until school starts again, and that's one month too long.

I haven't been interested in a guy since a sophomore in highschool. Every guy so far has been ratty, slimey, boary, sluggish, or too aggressive.

And when I'm finally excited about someone he's an overweight, brusque bisexual from community college.

you've GOT to be kidding me.

Oh well

its not going to go anywhere, with the ugly guy, i mean.

I have taken the path I never take with males, and that is the path of ignoring.
i'm not nice, i'm not mean, i just leave him alone.
Thats not me, its never me. I'm the one who smiles coyly from above you, who knows you're interested and is only just a BIT more interesting so you feel not quite as cool. Who laughs at your jokes and asks you questions earnestly.I got so used to the role, too, I'm rather lost without it. But I can't do it with him, I can't. So I ignore and leave alone, and know what? Its kind of okay. Not as satisfying, no, but definitely more classy.
I can't tell you WHY i'm doing it differently, I just didn't feel like I could throw him my typical act. He wouldn't fall for it, he'd be annoyed by it, confused by it, or see right through it. Whatever the reason, it just wasn't me that time around. I had to do something different.

Anyway, on top of that he's bisexual. The thought of me, tiny slim hipped long haired hippie girl competing with some sleek muscled man for his attention revolts me. He'll take whatever he can get? No thank you, I thought he had a bit more thoughtfulness than that. Its trippy to even think about.

I'm rather surprisingly disappointed.

assessment two

I feel sexy today. I am wearing a mens button down with a bra underneath, and my bangs are grown out so they're just skimming my eyelashes.
even my lips are pouting properly.

just you wait, mr somebody

Now I know How Girls Fall For Ugly guys

I like this guy.

He's rude and blunt and obvious and its all very honest, but just dishonest enough to let you know he's really rather tender.

Just my kind of guy.

Our interactions have been short and meaningless:

"I hate you cuz you smile too much."
"oh i'm sorry, I'll do my best to stop."
and we both go on our ways.

I'm sitting and he's sitting and others are sitting around a cluttered table. He begins to pile all the objects on my lap. Niether of us say a word. He finishes the pile all the way up to the salt shakers, gets up, and leaves.

"Can I hole punch your hand?"
"I like my hand, thank you."
and we both go on our ways

Recently he loves my hair. He grabs it, twists it, pulls it. Yesterday he bit it.

We haven't had one full conversation.

I like him.

Did I mention he's ugly? Squashed nose, rounded stomach, thick thighs, unstylish glasses and messy half-black-guy hair.
Yet he's all very confident with all that.

I like that, too.

nondescript appeal

you've got charm, kid.













the kind thats kinda drippy and obviously pretty.

not the cool cat slinky hipped dancing under streetlights kind,
nor the beatnik hipster jaded blase and ready for the world,
not big-eyed innocent with a ribbon round her hair gingham bloomers growing flowers
not the Katherine Hepburn have-all-the-lines cant-be-one-upped i've-got-you confidence
nor the Queen alabaster skinned with back ramrod straight melting voice of another world
not throaty smoky full lipped buxom beauty just the touch of helplessness to frenzy men
not even the homegrown earth under the fingernails callused tanned hardworking honest as the open sky kind

none of the worldly, exciting, quirky or lovable picture perfections you've always dreamed about. no, you've got the charm of a straight up smile,
easy to be teased,
laugh at all their jokes,
clear-eyed and even-toothed,
a touch of a flirt
and
just plain nice


and that's all.

and the boys come flocking

assessment one

I'm staring at myself in a mirror. Wild hair. Dark Eyes. One long feathered earring. Sloping lips. Two oversized red spots that were supposed to be zits but forgot their purpose and froze in the oversized red spot stage. Narrow neck.

I am skinny. So skinny.

And yet I am wanted. So very wanted. I think its my smile. Apparently, my smile is irresistible. It has all the good girl charm with just a skilled touch of "i completely have the upper hand" that makes guys want to protest it.

I am skinny. So skinny.

And I'm staring at myself in a mirror and all i can see are the almost-zits and the sheen of sweat on the apples of my cheeks. Its hot. I feel unlovely. But this feather dangling at my jawline seems so confident I'm stunning that I almost want to believe it. Well, the feather and the cat calls and compliments of the opposite sex.

I have ignored three calls today. Three "friendly calls" of "whatchya doin?" but I know what they really meant.

Why am I chased? Is it every girl? Is every girl hounded by the constant attention of hungry wolves growling to be fed, or do I just look like a particularly fragile lamb?

I tilt my head in different angles and find the most flattering ones. I'd say I was pretty. But men seem to think I'm gorgeous. I don't feel gorgeous.
I feel skinny. Really skinny.




But not skinny enough to invite one of those wolves over to lie me into believing their point of view.

I will stay alone tonight, and let my feathered earring do the convincing.

There's just a few that still get me...

I hate this kid.
I used to stew over him. I've known him for over six years but I still get annoyed when I see him. Dark Curls, sparkling Michael Landon (look him up) eyes, perfect teeth, a lean body and the perfect tan-touched with red from being a hard worker outdoors. And that, my friends, is why I hate him. He's never given me a moment's notice, although we're the only ones even close to the same age left in the club. No, that's a lie. When we were around 14 he flirted with me for about 2 weeks. Never was nice after that.
Around two years ago, I got a friend to find out what was wrong with me. He told my friend I wasn't his type--I was too skinny. I didn't really want to know why he wouldn't date me, I just wanted to know why he never even gave me the time of day. But that stung. Maybe that's why I'm still a bit insecure with guys even now, when around 37 of them are banging down my door.

Today we were again in the same room, and again he spoke to everyone except me and my sister. Today, I no longer care. I no longer join in the chatter of the general conversation. I don't even attempt to be friendly, I lean back in my chair and try to sleep. I cannot deny I notice that he looks better than last month-the summer sun has livened his body, his jeans fit, and i've always been into white T-shirts. But it is a passing acknowledgement, I drowse content in the knowledge he, or anyone else in the room, no longer matters.

The meeting is over. I'm walking out of the room, still have not acknowledged him. I feel two firm hands on my shoulders. His. I don't do anything. Just keep walking. He keeps his hands there as we walk across the hallway and out the door. Guiding. Outside, he turns me lightly around by the shoulders and hugs me. For a long time. I put my hand barely on his back in return. My face is warm. His muscles beneath that thin tee are taut and delicious. I'm rarely affected like this, but his body is perfect. I pull away, and say "Hi." He nods. We go walking opposite directions to our cars.

I hate this kid.

A Tale of 2 Daniels: Daniel work

I left the beer bottles and hookah pipe behind and headed up for my truck, parked somewhere up the driveway. it was dark and a little misty, and I could hear the drunken laughter behind me. It had been a crazy party. Ahead I saw two bodies hanging out by the side of a car, only up close I saw it was two of my coworkers.
"Aw Joy, you're leaving already!" Harry complained. I nodded and hugged him.
"I can't take all your lunacy.God, you smell horrible!"
"Well I don't fuckin care." he growled. I had refused Harry's dramatic proposal for a relationship the night before; I don't think he was very happy with me at the moment. I just smiled. Daniel stepped forward and gave me that look he always gives me. I can't exactly explain it, its very gentle. When he first started working, he looked at me with a much more lustful eye. I'd had his buddies come in ask me what I thought about him. But unlike a hundred others, Daniel never asked me out. He quickly discovered my purity, and we both knew he was anything but pure. There was a bit of a gentleman in him left to know to leave me alone. I loved him for it. Tonight he reached out and wrapped me in a sturdy hug; he smelled just as bad as Harry but his skin was so soft.
"And you didn't even drink anything, Joy?" he whispered. I leaned my head back and looked him in the eyes.
"Not a drop. I'm a good girl, Daniel." I answered. He grinned, and his eyes were proud.
"I know you are. You're a good girl." He let me go and I walked up to my car and drove away, unscathed by the debauchery behind me.

Awkward?

"kate, you flirt with everyone so much. why did you work at a pizza place? you shoulda worked at Hooters." JR says to me. I point to my chest.

"Can't."

"There you go. insulting yourself again! You have to stop!" JR groans. I laugh. I'm didn't insult myself. I just stated a fact.

I quite familiar now with the fact that I have small breasts. A 36, to be exact, and they won't be changing anytime soon. Apparently, this is quite a blow to my level of attractiveness. Apparently, I'm beautiful across the board, but i am majorly and terribly lacking in the cleavage area. My unendowed chest is a major reason for my unsexiness.

I come from a family of flat women. My mother, in a rare moment of feminine insecurity, told me when she was a newlywed she cried upon hearing that her husband's youthful idols had been Bridgette Bardot and Raquel Welch. Curvy as they were, my slim straight mother was sad thinking she couldn't provide the sexual pleasure her husband was interested in.

i've gone through various stages of sadness about all this. One of my friends is a DD, and I've gone bathing suit shopping with her. There's no way I'd want that more. I've always thought if I just had a little more, I'd be perfectly happy.

Interesting that I'd care at all. These things kind of sink into you after having them commented on day after day after day. It gets in your head. Enough "its okay, Kate, at least your face is pretty." seems like it should have lodged dissatisfaction in my head. But I'm all right, really.

I can dance uninhibited. And if I did have a chest to speak of, I'd probably be scared to even go out in public, guys ogle so much the thin way I am.

But most of all, they say Brandon Flowers and Johnny Depp go for the skinny girls. Those are the only guys that matter, anyways.

Lesson learned: You cannot deny the obvious.

know who's pretty?

Brad Pitt.

Know that i've literally spent years of my life trying to deny the fact?
I kept reading that everyone adored him...and that he was the most handsome man in the world and all that junk, so i took a stubborn and stiff stand that he was unatractive. I could not be suaded.
Well, untill I saw him in a film.

then I saw him in 7 Years In Tibet:

and I had already fallen, he was undeniably attractive. Then Fight Club just topped it off:

This Tyler Durden guy was wearing ridiculously stupid, loud, ill fitting clothes, bleeding and bruised all over his body, and still was vibrantly sexual.

I was trapped against a wall to the undeniable fact: Brad Pitt is IT. Uncomparable in physical beauty to any other man (yes, he still is, he's got it under that stupid horrific beard. i think he just doesn't want it any more). Not only that, but his acting is unbelievable. I've seen him go from evil to innocent, from old to immature, from insane to happy.

Why all this today?
First I'm feeling rather boyfriendless. Why I look at pictures of the not-even-in-your-dreams gorgeousness is beyond me, but I do.
Second the guys at work were fighting over who got to be Tyler Durden today. They all wanted him. He's like the man. It made me laugh.
Third what day is not a good day for photos of Brad Pitt?

I t

I do feel guilty about this adoration. Brad Pitt is not really a respectable man. In fact, he may be even more messed up than I want to admit.
But I don't agree!
I think he's trying hard. I think he wants to be a good guy. More on that later.
I'll post my defense on Brad Pitt, and you all can poke holes in it and tell me I just think he's hot.
Which would be true. But not only.
I think he's working hard.
But that for later.
I shall leave you with one last glimpse of perfection:


don't be a hater.

Meiko, Boys With Girlfriends

So what do you make of this song? I love the song for the musical quality, I think its so catchy. I play it around the house all the time, and finally my sister was like "I love this melody, but this girl is such a witch!"

Funny, I'd never thought of it that way. I always thought it was a girl simply feeling sad that she met the perfect guy, but he was already taken. I felt sorry for her, not for the girlfriend!

How do you respond?

But guess what? He doesn't hate me.

So I realized i never explained what happened to Ryan.

Its a happy story.
No, we're not going out.

But guess what? He doesn't hate me.

Okay, he did at first. For like a month. But that's so short.

After Matt, I gave up and at 1 am sitting in my truck, I asked Ryan if it was okay that we were still friends, and if he was happy with the way things were.
There was a really long silence.
Then he said "i guess."
then he said "geez, its late. I better go."

And then i didn't hear from him for a month.

i thought he was vanished forever.

But guess what? He doesn't hate me.

And eventually, he got over everything and texted me "hey, we're long overdue for a hang out!"

and it was lovely. and we went out. and we talked. and we had a geniunely good time together. And now, its been 2 months. and we still talk. In fact, we talk more freely and comfortably now. I'm even helping him through a new girl (who might be a bit more receptive to him than I was...).

So yeah. He doesn't hate me. This doesn't always have to bite.
But maybe that's just cuz it was Ryan. He's a good guy.

Not in Kansas...

We were broken up into groups of three and four, discussing ideas for potential "position papers" in English 102. Most of us didn't care what our subject was, we just wanted to get the assignment over with.
"I say our group's argument should be that testing for STDs should be mandatory when you get a physical." Kay says. Our other groupmate, Jessica, agrees. Of course Jessica would agree. She's a stripper.
"Yeah. I check every time. I mean, it doesn't hurt anything, you never know." she says. Jamie is encouraged.
"yeah, and I have a girlfriend who's boyfriend REFUSES to get checked! I mean, he could have AIDS or something! Sure, he says he's only had one other girlfriend, but you don't know. Its awful." she shudders. Jessica joins in. I shrug.
"Well actually, I don't go to the doctor. So this argument doesn't do anything for me. But you can use it." I say. They stare at me.
"Don't go to the doctor! What if you have some disease?" Jessica exclaims.
"I don't. I'm healthy. I'm healthy, so is my family, my parents, and my grandparents are wonderfully strong in their mid eighties. I've heard of too many people actually getting sick from wrong medication or bacteria spread in the hospital. If i can stay out, I will." I say calmly. Kay shakes her head.
"well, maybe you're fine now, but in 20 years, you may be dying."


we present our argument to the class.

"Okay, but what if you're abstinent?" asks the teacher. Kay shakes her head.
"that's unrealistic. It doesn't happen. I mean, not for little kids, but after like 12." she says. Classmates join in agreement.
"at least 12. kids are having sex so young now." says someone. I say nothing.
"It shouldn't be forced. I'm not having sex untill marriage." a young man says in the back. He is Indonesian. He rarely speaks. The class is in uproar. Somebody is laughing. Somebody is snorting. Fingers are being pointed. There are several indignant exclamations.
"no way. impossible!" the crowd choruses. I'm scared to look at the boy. I'm not that brave.
"Well, Jesus is my partner untill marriage." he repeats. This time he draws sarcastic laughs. Nobody is taking him seriously. Some guy in the back row, who listens to his ipod throuought class, beings mocking him.
"I odn't need sex. I have jesus. jesus is MY partner." he chants, snorting. The teacher changes the subject.
I wish I spoke up. I didn't know what to say. I silently turn around and make eye contact with him. Me, too. I mouth. I think he understands.

My stomach hurts.

Claire

I have been looking at this photo for days. I'm not exactly sure why. I spend hours looking through hundreds of headshots, fashion photography, editorials, movie stills, etc. Millions of beautiful women. Why does this one matter?
She's beautiful. The coloring of the photo only highlights her golden hair and gorgeous eyes and perfect skin. She seems so secure, so mildly determined. Not afraid. But maybe...I'm not sure. I'm really not sure.
She's Claire Forlani, pretty much only famous for her movie with Brad Pitt, Meet Joe Black. I tried to find you a movie clip from the film that nearly made me cry, but its not to be found on youtube. I'll keep trying. Interestingly enough, I think if you cross Brad's ex Jennifer Aniston with his present-day woman Angelina Jolie, you'd get a girl identical to this photo. Isn't that bizarre?

Maybe I'm fascinated because she doesn't look anything like me. Or anybody else. She has her own brand of beauty. Maybe i'm just used to all the wild, art-freak fashion shots and this full face direct headshot caught me by surprise.

Beauty. it matters so much to me. What if i wasn't beautiful? How would I feel? What if every time I passed a mirror, I felt shame? how do people live who feel this? why does it matter? How have I taken such a fleeting, i-can't-take-any-credit-for-it lucky strike and blown it up to such huge proportions?

My sister hates the idea of getting old. she wants to die at 50. She hates the idea of getting ugly, of her perfection becoming decrepit. So do I, but somehow I acknowledge that's what happens. That's life. Why is it this way? Why are we so drawn to the golden gorgeousness of Claire Forlani, even though we all know she had nothing to do with it, and she could be a witch?

No answers. But i'm still staring, guilty for the obsession, but uncontrollably mesmerized, into her pretty eyes.

Kate's love interests come in a variety of forms

And here we have a new speciMan. He's not like the guys who usually try to get my attention. He's not ignorant, he's not a cute little christian kid, he's not staring at my butt, and he's not swaggering. Don't get your hopes up.
He's my height, his black and to his shoulders, he has snakebites on either side of his chin and one little diamond right in the middle of the bearded fringe on the tip of his chin, and tattoos from shoulder to wrist. He wears band T-shirts and chains. He's antiestablishment, as you may have guessed. A poet. A writer. A videographer working for some underground punk bands.

I was literally talking to Britanny, the girl next to me, about her upcoming internship. He's walking right beside me
"two days, two days and I-" she's saying,
"so how was your weekend?" he asks me. Britanny looks startled, I shrug. She hurries ahead of me, and I'm trapped.
"It was nice, actually. I worked every night, but I love work, so it's okay." I answer, unable to help smiling from his sheer boldness. This is the second week he has done this. I wonder why. He walks me all the way to the top step of the library before leaving.

This one could be interesting.

Blog Lovin

Follow my blog with bloglovin

So I really don't know if anyone is reading this, or is interested, but just in case, I'm gonna try to keep going! I was just introduced to Bloglovin, another way readers can follow my blog. We'll see what happens!

That's my sweetheart in there...

I swore I wasn't going to let it happen. I was so adamant that it wasn't going to happen! Oh well. It did, and really, I don't regret it. How can I regret being a girl. Still, I really didn't think I was going to do it.

I cried at The Notebook.

Shake your head arrogantly, and then listen.

I really wasn't going to cry. It wasn't magnificently acted. The lines were cheesy. The plot was predictable. Pretty much every cliche or stereotype in the book was somewhere in the length of the movie.
But they loved each other. And I guess that's why every girl cries (and a few guys, even if they're too stubborn to admit it).

I was told I wasn't really a girl until I had cried through The Notebook. At work, Red made plans for me to see it with Woody. He said I had to see it, and I had to have a man's shoulder to cry on-recommended Woody for the job. Woody said he'd be glad to have me cry on his shoulder, throughout which I insisted I wouldn't cry, but would watch the movie and see.
Of course, I didn't watch it with Woody. I don't think he's spent a night outside his house without being tipsy since 10th grade, if that. I watched it in my living room, with my mother asleep on the sofa and my brothers running in and out of the room to try and catch the "safe parts."
And so I had my cry by myself, perched on the edge of the sofa with just enough room between mom's feet and the ledge. She drifted sleepily through it, only catching bits and pieces when her eyes opened. I was biting down hard on my lip as the credits began when she said "In a way, that's me and your dad. He's sick right now, in the head. But I'm waiting for him."
And then I couldn't stop it anymore.

So you win, everybody. And I'm not sorry that you won. Its worth crying for, the waiting. The old man waiting for his wife's mind to come back, my mother waiting for her husband's heart to come back. There is nothing more heartbreaking and beautiful than waiting for someone you love.

Rashly revealing what most people will think is stupid

There's a few Hollywood couples that I really just love.
Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens I may love the very most.
I'll pause for you all to laugh at me and my foolishness.
Okay, finished?
Good, let me continue.
So, first of all, they are both physically perfect. LOOK at them! His blue eyes, her black beachy hair, his perfect abs, her pretty smile. Couldn't be much improved upon.
Second, they can both sing! and they can both dance! in real life! So they could really actually have a musical life.
Third, they found their soul mate early. And held on.
Fourth, they just look so freaking happy together! Every time they're photographed in public together (which is ridiculously often), they've got this little "haha, we don't care if you're all spying on us, we're in our own lovely worlds together and you don't bother us." look that seems so genuine!


Dang it, look at em!:




and the sweetest thing is, they came from this:


Just little kids discovering the acting world. As teenagers everywhere fell for them, they fell for each other. Kids thrown into a huge national spotlight after a surprise massive musical hit of innocent music and brightly colored costumes.

No, they didn't stay innocent. They've both had their run-ins (ahem, Vanesssa!!) with the dark side, with bad choices. But they've stuck together through the whole thing. Nearly five years later, and they're still close as can be.



Now I don't care if you HATED High School Musical and DESPISE Zac Efron, how can you not root for these guys? Making it through all the Hollywood insanity all these years, sticking together?
I'm cheering.

Have I convinced you yet? Well give it time. I'll keep working on it. You'll understand, someday.

But I didn't really want to...

It had been a long day of moody customers. A little girl had ordered a Brownie Tower of Temptation, even though her parents told her she wouldn't be able to finish it. She couldn't, and then bawled so loud the whole restaurant turned around. A man demanded seven lemons per drink. A little pack of boys stiffed me after their large pizza and sodas. the only thing I was really looking forward to was Ryan. He'd texted me and I was meeting him after work, we hadn't seen each other in over a week.

I sunk my cash to remit on Matt's table with all intention of letting him count it and then I'd leave. But no, of course not. As usual, he was paying close attention to my mood, and asked a question.
"Where are you going?" leave it up to Common Sense Matt to know I was going somewhere; I almost never go anywhere but home after work. I turned around and started up to go.
"To see this kid Ryan." I said.
"Hold up, get back in here!" he called after me. I knew then that he already knew what was going on. Matt knows these things somehow, that's why he's general manager. That's also why hes unofficial mentor/counselor/confidante for everyone in the restaurant. I only recently discovered this, for a long time I thought it was just with me. Matt has this uncanny way of understanding exactly what the situation is, and then finding the simplest, practicallist, most "duh" way of fixing it, that you would never have once thought of on your own.
"what?" I asked, but smiled to let him know he guessed.
"he likes you. you don't like him. right?" He asked. I nodded. No use asking how he figured it out; he just did.
"but your going out tonight at ten. you can't do that to him!" he said. I protested.
"sure I can. why can't I? I've told him we're just friends. its not like i'm lying to him. we're friends."
"does he really think that?"
"Well...he should." i answered. No, sending texts at night saying 'the moon is beautiful and i'm thinking of you' did not represent friendship in any way, shape, or form.
"beside the point. Guys like to chase. He thinks he's chasing you, and he hasn't won you yet, but he thinks he is. You're still going out places with him? He thinks he's gonna win." Matt told me. I sat down on the corner of his desk like I always do, ready to be helped.
"But i've told him I'm interested in only freindship."

I would really marry...

I would really marry Mr. Deeds, from the movie of the same title.

I'm NOT an Adam Sandler fan, usually I find him extremely annyoing and often pathetic. But as Mr. Deeds, a still-enjoyable remake of the original masterpiece, Mr. Deeds Goes To Town with Gary Cooper, he's wonderful.

Extremely simple-minded and innocent, but at the same time hard working and thoughtful. He always finds a straight out, clean cut solution to the muddied, bureaucratic New York problems.

He looks to find a easy, happy woman he can take care of and protect.

He's always honest, and able to take the blame.

He breaks the stuffy standards of upper-level society without shame.

He's generous and loyal to friends.

On top of it all, he writes happy, cheesy love poems.

How can I not love him?

I cry

I haven't posted any songs on this blog yet, but it really makes sense that I do. Music helps me handle all my emotions, every feeling. I'd probably go crazy without it.

When I first heard this song, I was driving. I've never liked Kenny Chesney, and was prepared to change the channel, but the beginning was tender, so I paid attention.

By the time he'd finished the first chorus, I had to pull over to the side of the road. I couldn't stop my tears.

I'm not sure why this struck me , but I was overcome anyway. This is the kind of guy you always love, I thought to myself. This is going to be your life story:

some rough, honest, tender musician is going to steal every ounce of love you have, but he won't take care of you like you need. I couldn't get over the idea at first-

I kept thinking about how true it was; this is exactly the man I always fall for.

The lines are all so emotional, so raw. It's exactly that raw emotion that attracts me. I can't stand stuffiness, I'm not

all that much for flowers and candle dinners. But a man being honest, that's the most attractive thing I can think of.

And there's something about the pain, about the obvious baggage and roughness, that also grabs me.

He's been through a lot, he knows he's a drifter, he knows who he is, and he's not nescessarily even proud of it.

But it's him.

I really hope that somehow I'll find a man like this who won't want to go. Who will somehow stay and continue on in his wandering, pirate ways-only he'll let me join in.

I've never dreamed of having a man settle down and stop moving; I'd just want to hold his hand and take on his travels.

Still, every time I hear this song, I feel like crying.

Its one of the most beautiful songs I know.

And welcome back to school...

Winter semester. Parking a mile away, rushing to class in coats and scarves and still trying to look cute. Lugging book bags because you haven't quite yet figured out which classes the book will actually be necessary for. Constant scoping for the perfect friend, and even more, the perfect guy.

Still thinking about Gilbert. It will take awhile for my infatuation to wear off; and there is not one Gilbert-looking person on campus. I sat in the corner of the library, listening to Regina Spektor, reading a sociology article required for our next class. Once in awhile, I glanced up, unconciously still looking for Gilbert. One time I looked up, and caught the eye of a young man heading to use the computers. We locked eyes for a thousandth of a second, and both looked away at the same time. I chuckled to myself as I looked back at my books. Gilbert locked eyes with that Becky, and they both knew. Its in all the movies. I smiled a bit; its not in real life. The glance was nothing, I wasn't in love and neither was he. Movies.

It was twenty or more minutes later when somebody tapped me on the shoulder. I glanced up to see that same young gentlemen standing there. I automatically smiled at him:

"hi."

"here." he said, dropping a scrap of paper on my desk. I looked down at it, and he rushed away. Read later (although you prolly can see through the paper) the folded piece said. Of course, I ignored the instruction, and opened the scrap.

You're gorgeous. I'm new here and lonely. Call me (if u want) 304-564-8876 :)

I almost laughed aloud. Apparently the same thing that went through my mind when we made eye contact had taken a very different route in his mind. I stuffed the paper into my bag and kept reading; resisting the urge to turn around and see where he went. Maybe if he looked like Gilbert....

Welcome to the college breeding ground: the library.

An olive branch for Patrick

We hadn't spoken in some time...not since that one day i'd wooed him back from the Other Girl. He was keeping his distance, avoiding me. When I spoke to him, he'd only give the quickest, shortest answer possible, or even act like he hadn't heard me. I was miserable...he had been so sweet!

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. He clocked out and headed for the door, passing me by.

"Hey!" I called out to him. He turned around and looked at me. "Are you mad at me?" I asked. Everything in our friendship had been unspoken. Everything underground. Technically, he had no reason to start treating me differently, even though I knew why. He chuckled nervously.

"no."

"are you sure? you don't even say hi to me!"

"well, the kitchen has been really busy." he mumbled, "i just haven't had time."

"No time to wave or smile? I liked our conversations." I asked, and he nodded sheepishly. We both knew he was lying."Well, I don't want you to be mad at me. I hope I didn't do anything to you." I said. I didn't do anything to him...except not accepted his come-ons. He shook his head.

"Naw." He laughed a bit, smiled, and kept going.

Well, my attempt at continuing friendship had been made. What he did next time was up to him.

I always fall in love with movie characters....

Watched What's Eating Gilbert Grape.

There was the kind of acting that jumps out and draws you in and all of a sudden its real life.

I just wanted to cry with him. Definitely hold cradle his head in my lap and give him a moment of rest. He felt so real, so beautiful. Twisted, turned head. All the things he wants to change, all the things he doesn't understand. But when asked what he really wants: "I wanna be a good guy."

So pretty, too! Pretty wild, windy hair. Pretty brown troubled eyes. That pretty, fine angled jaw. Even a pretty neck.

I loved him for being vulnerable. I loved him for trying to not act vulnerable. I loved him for keeping on. I loved him for his awkwardness. For the slightest hint of a smile, or barely-shown flash of pain.

It was one of the best acted movies I've ever seen. Every character felt so real that it was actually painful to watch. Its a horrible, terrible, ode to human beings' faults.

But all through it was poor, precious Gilbert.

Are there people like that in real life? Just ONE!!!

I would really marry...

Seth Meyers.

Yes, the SNL News Anchor.

They say girls always marry their fathers...which is funny, because he sorta looks like my father.

But I defy any girl not to fall in love with his happy laugh, irresistible smile, and clever eyes.

Plus, who doesn't adore a sense of humor. Seth is one of the main writers for Saturday Night Live.

Please, nobody respond to this with comments on how creepy and wrong he is in real life...I'm in a happy, lovely oblivion in which he is my future husband.

On the trials of being yourself when you don't know yourself, and, etc

"She's a remarkably attractive woman."

"isn't she?"

"there's a certian quality about her, a certian fineness. she seems to be absolutely fine and straight.....i don't know how to descrive the quality. i suppose it's breeding."

I closed the book because I had to go to bed, firmly deciding i wanted those words to be said about me. somehow, i wanted people to immediately notice there was a "certian quality" about me, that i was different and unusual. "absolutely fine and straight" something original and attractive. i definitely wanted that to be me, i decided firmly. i had two days to make it work, two days until college started and i had the chance to be this new person. i stood up and stared into the mirror. there i was, myself. a pretty girl. i'm a pretty girl, especially at night when my eyes somehow get bigger and brighter, and my hair has been messed throughout the day and now looks nearly beachy perfect. I close Hemingway, quite sure that I will be Lady Brett Ashley in school. yeah right. When you read his Farewell To Arms, you thought you were going to be Catherine Barkley. Now i felt convicted. I had fallen in love with so many women, women i'm sure were going to be me. somehow i was convinced tat i could be perfect pieces of all of them. well, why couldn't i? why couldn't i be wide-eyed like Catherine and refined like Brett, while being playful like Zooey Deschanel and ice queen like Angelina Jolie. I could be it all, right? No. At that exact moment, staring into my bathroom mirror, it occured to me. to try to be all of them at once would make me none of them. it would make me an unclear, silly little girl who nobody is interested in because she wasn't anything. she had no defintion. i couldn't do it. i would really have to choose. choose just one, just one of my many female role models who i had so treasured. each time i saw one on tv, read a character, watched a character, i would become her. i couldn't do that. I just have to be Kate.

But who exactly is Kate?

the confession of sins of trying to keep boys that don't belong to you

She was a little taller than me, a little more curvy. Definitely more sophisticated makeup. And she was talking to him. I immediately bristled. Patrick was mine! I suddenly regretted not signaling to him that I wasn't interested. I was very interested...I just couldn't say yes! I wished he could understand. I wasn't like the other girls he knew...he couldn't just invite me out for a weekend at the beach. No matter how badly i wanted to take him up on the offer, i knew i had to say no. And I had said no.Patrick had gotten the message...eventually he stopped hanging around as much, stopped smiling at me from across the room. Boy did I miss it. But i couldn't tell him that...or could I?

Patrick isn't mine, he never was even for a day. If he liked the new girl, why did it matter? But it DID matter-it just did! No matter how hard i tried not to be annoyed, I was. I watched her carefully...did she do anything cuter than me? Did she glance up at him through those ridiculous big mascara eyelashes? I couldn't tell. But they had spoken and she was pretty...and sorta looked like me.

When he came up front to punch out, i looked at him. We hadn't spoken, recently.

"Patrick! You haven't smiled today." i said. "i missed it." there, I got the grin.

"yes i have." he replied.

"well, not at me." i answered. He smiled and reached for the silverware i was folding...YES! He was was off work, but still hanging around. A good sign.

"So how do you do this, anyway?" he asked. I taught him. By the way he was ahead of me, i saw he already knew how. He was just making an excuse to stay. All of a sudden I was beaming. She had nothing on me yet! We chatted like I was familar with, him full of comments on how nar he was. By now, i know nar is surfer slang for awesome. I was ready for it, and smiled back at him. there. Soon enough, the boss shooed him away.

"the owners have been watching you two. they say you're spending too much time together-go date outside of Ledos!" he told me.

"no way, the owners said something! your teasing me!" i gasped. he shook his head.

"no, i swear, they pointed it out to me...said you go out of y'alls way too much to talk." he said. I felt delighted and furious at the same time.

"nu uh! what did you say?"

"i laughed. Told him."

"no you didn't! I'll hate you! don't let anything on!" i gasped at him. he shrugged. "well y'all should get on it and stop bothering us at Ledos." he said. I shook my head. There! That's why he stopped hanging out....the OWNERS had pointed it out! I was so happy I hadn't chased him away. It had been a lousy waitressing day, I had only a few dollars in my pocket. But to heck with you, new girl! That boy's still mine!!

Oh come on, he shouldn't bother me this much

I'm so annoyed. Why am I so upset Patrick is mad at me? Of course he's mad at me! I've freakin refused every offer he's given me! And since I've refused, that means...that means I don't want him. I don't.

No, I really don't. He's foolish.

So why...well, he's sweet. And he's so gentle to me. Of course I hate this. He hasn't been talking to me much. In fact, hardly at all. Last time...

My hands felt sticky pressed against the plastic leather booth. I shuffled my feet under the table, wishing the situation wasn't so painful. The other diners chattered happily, but after months of working at a restaurant, their noise didn't distract me. Patrick looked back and forth from me to the kitchen, obviously wanting to make sure his name wasn't being called to get back to work. I tried to speak again, and i knew he expected I was going to try to say something meaningful. I wanted to say something repairing, something to smooth the awkwardnes...but the situation was just too uncomfortable. He refused to make eye-contact with me, looking past my head or at the silverware i was sliding into napkins. All I wanted in that moment was to hear him say something sincere directly to me. Instead, I was decoding the background message of his careless commentary on his new cell phone: he didn't really want to speak to me. I tried to give him positive feedback, let him know that I really cared: I leaned forward, looked directly at him, even attempted a smile. But I had already lost my chance, Patrick no longer trusted me. We were physically close, sitting face to face in the same booth, and i could tell he wished he had more personal space-he still liked me, and sitting so near was painful.

With every second, it got worse. He wasn't paying attention to me like he used to. he wasn't giving me that grin I was desperate for, dimples and all, his eyes weren't looking down at me with subtle amusement. We both said useless words, about school and his latest party, nothing worthwile. The spoken message was about his new cell phone, the underlying message was that we didn't belong together anymore. Finally, he stood up, said he had to get back to work. I wanted to fight back, my attempt at some relational matience and keeping us strong had failed. But I was too sad to think of anything soothing. I shoved my hands beheath my thighs on the plastic booth and watched his broad retreating shoulders. My message wasn't going through, if he had understood me, he hadn't agreed. His message came through loud and clear: obviously, this relationship was in a ridiculiously fast process of deterioration.

Flashback: when I said no to Ryan (Just to show to the kids reading the post right before that I really had told him, i wasn't just lying to the dude)

Sept 4, 2009:

so i turned down my first offer for a boyfriend. i guess most people would think that it was pathetic and embarassing that this is the first time, since i'm eighteen. a few months ago i would have agreed, feeling ashamed to admit no guy had asked me before, when most girls have had their first boy by twelve at the latest. but it makes sense to me, now. I have nothing to be embarassed about. I was sheltered, sculpted, carefully prepared and groomed. I'm not the regular girl exposed to the world. I was hidden. Its okay, there's nothing wrong about it. I'm smarter and more thoughtful because of it. It had nothing to do with me being unattractive or unwanted. I just didn't have the chance. Now that I have the chance, guys are immediately interested. In fact, I've also turned down four requests for my phone number. I'm starting to adjust to this new world of boys.

Anyway, back to my first refusal. It was Ryan. I also had my first slow dance with Ryan. it was one of those cute, short, shy ones where the couple puts their arms really lightly on eachother and tries to make conversation to make it less awkward. Anyway, Ryan was Nicole's friend. And also Vera's ex. Closely intertwined with two of my best friends. We have been introduced on half a dozen different occasions and events, and finally we discovered that we were no longer just aquantinces, but friends. the next parties we were mutually invited to we talked a lot. he was nice. i casually invited him, along with fifty others, to my graduation party on Facebook. I was surprised to find him a confirmed attender almost immediately. Nicole said he didn't know why he was coming, but he'd stop by. he ended up staying till after eleven. there he asked for my phone number. the next thing i know, i was receiving texts: "so, i don't really know you. i'd like to get to know Kate. What's she like?"

And we started talking...and talking...and then we met at the fair. We spent one wonderful rain soaked day together. i ran with him, barefoot, from barn to barn at the fair, in the pouring rain and streaming mud. i knew he thought it was romantic. i knew he thought it was so cool. i tried to let him know i was just a farm girl and that's what all farm girls did, but i don't think he got the point. he told me no other girl would spend the day in the rain with him. i told him to meet more farmers. we exchanged lists of our favorite bands, and so his next invitation was well planned. A killers concert. Brandon Flowers. My absolute dream band. I flipped with excitement and immediately agreed, but not before asking if i could bring my sister. he kindly agreed, and off we went. i encouraged him to bring his best friend James, and he did. As a foursome, we had a phenomenal time. it was his first real concert. it was my dream band. we screamed along to the words and i danced as best i could smashed between two drunk guys. i could see him watching me taking in the music from the corner of his eye, i could see that he was proud of himself for initating something that made me so happy. we never got a chance to be alone, so he asked me to meet him again three days later. i guessed what was comng, but i agreed.

and there it was. sitting outside Moby Dick's house of kabobs. We had three solid hours of intense, meaningful conversation. I shared a lot of my heart with him, and he did the same. I hear things about him i have a feeling nobody has ever heard before. finally, it came.

"well, um." clears throat, "i actually...the reason i asked you to meet me here was..i don't want to make it awkward or anything, but. i'll just lay it out there. i kinda like you." he managed. i smiled, and nodded.

"yeah?"

"And, i don't know if your dating someone-well, i figure your dating someone..." he trailed off.

"no, i'm not dating anyone. on purpose. umm, i don't see how dating at this time and point in my life makes a lot of sense. its such a huge emotion drainer, so much---i don't know, i don't even know who i am yet. and umm, i haven't seen many dating relationships work out well...actually, only one. and i hate that girl so it doesn't even count. I just don't think it makes sense."

"yeah. that sounds smart."

"thanks. I'm trying to be smart. I'm actually seeing a lot of guys right now, all as friends. everyone is telling me i can't do it. but why not? i'm not sure what i really want right now, and i don't think tying myself-or, i mean, anyone tying themself-down is really smart right now, friendship just seems better."

"i...i really admire that. and, that's cool with me, being friends and all. i'm not proposing or anything." he added quickly, since we had just talked about how all his siblings got married at eighteen. i laughed a little.

"no, i didn't think so. so...that's okay?"

"yeah, sure."

"good. so, how'd i do? i kinda guessed you were gonna ask that...i figure i might have to say that a lot....i practiced. was it okay?" i asked, trying to be light. he smiled a little.

"yeah, no, that was really good. it sounded good."

"not too many umms?"

"no, it was really good."

"well thanks. i hope thats okay." i repeated. i had the feeling i'd lost him already, and i already missed him. Maybe i didn't want Ryan as a boyfriend, at least not now, but i did enjoy his company. he nodded.

there. my first refusal. not too bad. i was kinda proud of myself.

Oh, phooey, Ryan!

my truck, 10:30 pm

"you never have met my parents." he reminded me, driving around the neighborhood. My initial response was to shrug, "so? I don't go and meet my friend's parents." but I knew that would hurt his feelings.

"No, I haven't." I agreed, thinking it was the safest route. Of course he wanted me to meet his parents. All his siblings got married when they were eighteen, it was his turn. And of course the parents must approve.

"Well, we can rent a movie and watch it at home, then. They'll be home." He suggested. I nodded.

"Sure, sounds good." What else was I supposed to say? No, cuz then they'll think we're engaged? I kind of giggled to myself at the idea of his face if I answered like that. So we went to the grocery store and rented Seven Pounds at the Redbox, he said it was amazing. I love Will Smith, so I was ready for it.

on the sofa, 11:00 pm

The movie has been going on, and I've met mom and dad. They look at me so proudly I want to dissolve. Their son got a pretty one. Yay. I try to act casual, and my "acting casual" usually comes across as flirting. I already know this. But I don't know what else to do. I don't want to embarrass him in front of his parents. They're sweet. We're throwing popcorn at each other through the movie. I'm trying to avoid the arm that's sliding around the back of the sofa. The movie is depressing. I'm not concentrating. His mom is still smiling down at me like any moment we're going to break the big news. I make commentary about the movie, ignore the arm, and try to be funny.

back in my truck, 12:47

I shied away when he stroked my hair. I was really smooth about it. I was resting on the car armrest, he reached down, and I just casually raised my head all the while kept up conversation. It was talented of me, because I didn't even leave a moment for him to be awkward. But I'm tired of this. really don't know if I can keep on seeing him- he obviously doesn't get it. I feel terrible, though, he's so sincere. A nice boy, really. Shame I can't like him. Shame he can't be more exciting. Shame he can't be fun and bright and lively, because he really is good. How awful. I've found a good guy who's quite mad about me, but he's flat out dull. I have nothing to find out out about him, and I've only known him six months. I told him, all those six months ago, that I wasn't dating anyone. He seems to have forgotten. I'll have to remind him again. God, I hate that!

Continuation: Say Eisley!

This is Max and Sherri on their wedding day:This is Max and Sherri proving their quirkiness even on their wedding:
This, is a happy couple:
This is a Christmas photo of a still-happy couple:
This, is just plain enviable:

They've only been together since September, so who knows if it'll last. I sincerely hope it does, they are both such....geniune people.

Wait, what? A couple that loves eachother?

So in my uncoupled state, I have come to pure bliss whenever I see a couple in the media who actually seems to care. Of course, I don't know, I've never been in their company and don't know their inside workings and relations, but that's probably a good thing. They give me hope, and at this point, I can't afford to lose a single drop of the hope I've given.

Throughout my blog, I think I'll be adding photos and commentary of couples who bring me this joy. Maybe they'll bring you a bit of joy, too.

For starters, here's Max and Sherri:

This is Sherri, maybe you know her as the lead singer in the band Eisley. She's strange.

This is Max. Maybe you know him as the lead singer of Say Anything. He's strange, too:Here's Max and Sherri happy together:

And I really didn't like the guy, but..

I get a lovely boost from being wanted. I really do, even if it's by loserly or pathetic guys. If they want me, I smile.

Call it a very small, selfish ego. I have discovered, shamedly, that if I don't feel wanted, admired, or noticed on a rather regular basis, I question my attractiveness. If I'm home for days straight and have no reason to go out to the mall and see the men do double-takes as I walk by, I begin to feel ugly. If I work for more than a week without a table of guys winking or leaving their phone numbers on the checks, I tell myself that men never really do like girls with small chests, after all.

I've been home a lot and I haven't really taken much time to make myself feel cute lately. So, of course, as usual, I had begun to sink back into my "you're not really that cute" attitude, which is really the most common.

I was at work and I was serving these three guys, all in their early twenties. One of them was very muscular and blonde and pretty, and he had a hint of a cool accent and I thought he was probably Russian. Whatever he was, I know I smiled at him more than the other two, even while I was making the conscious effort not to.

Because of Russian, it took me awhile to notice the asian guy sitting next to him, but when I did, I started a bit. It looked like...no, it probably wasn't...oh but, it looked like...no, maybe not...but...I dove headfirst.

"Excuse me, is your name Mark?" I asked him. He shook his head,

"No, its Steve, but why?" He asked.

"Oh, well, I have this number-its the only one I've kept-from this guy named Steve." I began, but I was cut off by the other guys.

"He made us come here just to see you! That's why we're here!" they shouted. I smiled, so it was him.

"you kept my number?" he asked. I suddenly panicked-i shouldn't have said that!

"Um, yeah I did-" I stumbled,

"Well why didn't you call me!?"

"I've got a policy of not calling guys that leave their number for me." I said, trying to get some grounding. He shook his head,

"but you kept it. That has to mean something." He said eagerly, and I couldn't think of anything to say. "you should call." he insisted.

"I-I don't know." I said, "I just don't do that." then I rushed off to get their refills.

He followed me up to the counter.

"No, really, when are we going for coffee?" he said. I shrugged.

"please don't expect anything. I'm very shy." I begged. The girl behind me choked a laugh. I am the least shy person I know. He smiled.

"well why did you keep my number?" he asked. I got flustered.

"you were-nice. Every guy who leaves his number is so trashy."

"well, i'm a little trashy." he joked. I laughed and shook my head, and he quickly added "nah, just kidding. Really, when?"

I hurried off again, "I don't know."

As soon as he'd left, rewriting his number and "don't be shy-call!" on the check, I shook myself. I knew exactly why I kept the number; we had both worked at the same radio station and I thought he could maybe help me get a job back there. But I had been thrown when I saw he was still interested, and missed my chance for something clever and cool to end the interest. I would never call him.

But the rest of the day I smiled. I had been wanted, and that was just the little revival my ego needed.

A-ha, I'm still pretty!