I blog, therefore I am.

I’ve gotta stop using the word blog in my subjects.  Well kiddies, I’m gonna try to get you up to speed with what has been going on since I last blogged.  It’s been an eventful 2 weeks and I’ll do my best to go in order.  Here goes:

The last Wednesday of the semester, my family and I went to Islands in Eastlaketo celebrate my Mom’s promotion (Supervisor. Who’s the man?  My Mom is!).  I walk in and I see this really pretty girl standing behind the hostess counter.  I immediately smile brightly as I always do in such situations.  She smiles back and the eye contact between us is apparent.  What do I do?  Do I ask her out? Even my parents see the connection.  I decide to ask her if I can give her my number.  I think it’s classy but let me know if I’m wrong.  Our meal ends and I make for the bathroom in hopes I’ll run into her on the way out (and to be sure I don't have anything in my teeth).  No sign of her when I get out of el bano and my parents are gone, so I gotta leave.  Ahh, regret, I know you well.

So onto the weekend.  I go to my sister’s graduation party (9 years to be a teacher?).  She’s all sorts of hammered.  People are constantly coming up and talking to me and people are chanting my name at one point; it’s as if it’s my party (next year, hopefully).  There comes a point where I’m all alone (outside of the bathroom) and my cousin’s friend is sitting on the couch nearby.  I’m looking down at my aunt’s crystal figurines that look like Polar bears taking a shit, when I hear, “This is gonna sound forward…”

I already know that my cousin’s friend likes me, so I kind of know what’s coming.  But you still couldn’t expect it. 

She asks me out, in so many words, and I am speechless.  Those of you that know me know this is rare (both the speechlessness and girls asking me out).  I begin to admire the balls it took for her to say that and the fact that she took the only opportunity that she had because I am uberpopular.  So I agree, eventually.  We talk a few times on the phone and this girl is a real sweetheart.  I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what the hell to do on a date with an 18 year old that lives in Oceanside.

And then comes the answer, she’s only 17.  Who’d have thunk a Winger lyric would actually be relevant?  My cousin’s 18 and this girl’s out of high school, so I assumed she was at least 18.  We all know what assumptions make us.  I thought for a while and decided I had to break it off (SO not dirty).  She took it well.  Very surprised.

Anywhoo, I grab my friend Butch (not literally) and head back to Islands(literally).  I ask to sit in the previous girl’s section and thankfully she is working. Butch and I stumble through our meal as I try to be witty and charming (to the waitress, not Butch, sorry buddy).  I pull that off.  We get toward the end of the meal and Butch says suddenly, “I’m going to the bathroom, put your big-boy clothes on,” and he leaves.  While he’s gone, she passes by for a flash of a second as I try to ready myself.  And wouldn’t you know it, she doesn’t pass by again.  Butch gets back and I try to regroup.  It comes time for the check.  Butch agrees to leave again as I know she’ll be back to give me the change for the meal.  I wait.  She passes by and essentially drops the change and continues on.  She seemed busy.  Regret creeps up again but I shout, “No, sir, not this time,” in my head of course.  I wait.  This whole thing is going on 10 to 15 minutes now. 

I catch her as she passes by again and I say, “You probably don’t remember me but I was here last week.  And one of the reasons I came back, besides the food (joke!), is because I thought you were really pretty.”

“Aww, thank you,” she says.  (Got her!  No, I was being sincere.)

“And I was wondering if I could give you my phone number?”  I continue.

“Wait, where were you sitting [last time]?” She asks.

“Over there,” I point.

“Were you really drunk?” She asks to my huh?

“No, I was here with my family,” I reply.  Clearly we are strangers.

“Oh, I just remember a bunch of drunk guys last week but you didn’t look like them.  (Pause)  So, you want my number?” She says.

(Brief Pause)

(Snapping out of it) “Yeah, sure, yeah.” I snappedly respond.  So she writes her number on the back of the check (I have proof!).  It was awesome.  Needless to say I tipped well (I always do).  I danced the jig several times that night and I’ll tell you why; I’ve never done that before.  I’ve always known a girl for a while (sometimes too long) before I make any sort of move.  It’s a simple fear of rejection dating back to March of 1995.  Thanks again, Marissa!  It was an awesome day though.  If nothing else, a major step forward for me.  I promise to blog again and let y’all know how things go.  Oh yeah.