The world is definitely short on a few items. I know for a fact, one of those things is love. According to the Four Wise Men, George, John, Paul and Ringo, it is all you need. But it is so easy to look at the news, movies, magazines, billboards, and so on, and realize that there is a huge, gaping hole where love should be. We pump the airwaves full of visions of rape, murder, bigotry, and violence. Yet acts of love, such as sex, are treated as pornographic. We are conditioned to keep to ourselves, keep a watchful eye out for people who do not look like they belong. We are taught that who we are is not good enough, that we are lacking, either as a person, or, most often, physically. To over turn such a massive social construct, or trend, seems like it would take tremendous effort. Yet I believe, in the words of the late comedian Bill Hicks, "It's only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings and money. A choice, right now, between fear and love."
I do not remember why I decided such a thing should wind up on my Bucket List, but I am glad it did. I talked my co-worker, Kimberly, into joining me for a night of passing out free hugs. On Jan 7th, 2010, Kimberly and I put my plan into action. Kimberly had made a sign that read, "Hugz 4 Free", and we walked up and down Mill Avenue in Tempe, AZ, passing out free hugs to strangers. I was concerned that no one would hug us and we would get weird stares, funny looks, and insults. She and I had only expected a maximum of ten people to take us up on our offer. We were wrong, by a long shot.
With total sobriety in our heads and the sign in my hands, it was time to go for it. Kimberly and I hugged about 30 people our first time around. We hugged men, women, and every homeless person on the street. Every homeless person seemed genuinely thankful. I assume it because they are almost always ignored, or looked down upon. For them to receive an open, honest, heartfelt hug from a total stranger is probably the exact opposite of how they are constantly treated. One particular fellow even stated that he had not been hugged in two years. Judging by his smell, I would say that was not a lie. We hugged a self-proclaimed "traveller", an individual who just wanders from city to city for the adventure of it all. Sadly, he had been in Tempe a few days and said that we were the nicest people he had met so far. We hugged a group of four pre-teen girls, all of which I gave a shoulder to shoulder hug, not chest to chest because that would just be uncomfortable. We even hugged two old women who just finished dinner and were waiting to cross the street.
Mill Avenue, for those familiar with it, might seem like an unusual spot to pick. Kimberly and I chose to do this here because she had an Eating Disorders Anonymous meeting to attend in the area (I did get permission from her to share this, otherwise the anonymous part would have been ruined). Just before heading off to her meeting, we ran into a young man that we had previously hugged, and wanted another. We sat and talked about his problems for a few minutes, he and Kimberly exchanged numbers, and I told him we had to leave for her meeting. After the two of them discussed her meeting and his Narcotics Anonymous meetings, Kimberly and I made our way to were she needed to be. Shortly after arrival, this kid began texting her to see if he could join us, which he wound up doing.
At this point, the EDA meeting began. I really wish I could share what was said in this meeting. It was very interesting to witness such honesty and openness. There was zero judgement, total support, and absolute attention paid to whomever was speaking. Outside of myself, and the tag-a-long kid, this group was all women, except for one guy. He only introduced himself, and did not speak again until after the meeting. I made it a point to talk to this man after the meeting. Again, I wish I could share what was said. I was glad to have spoken with him, as men have one unique tendency, we will not talk about what is going on in our hearts and minds in a group of people, unless another man speaks first. This is why men have conversations about sports, movies, tv and so on. Sharing, on the level of this meeting, is not what we do. Even if I was only there for this guy for a moment, at least he had someone to say something to.
After the meeting, I invited a few people to join Kimberly and myself to give out some more free hugs. Only the tag-a-long joined us. It only took a few minutes for us to convince him to go home, as Mill Ave was pretty much empty at 9pm, which is strange as it the main location for the night life in Tempe. Since we had no one to hug, we decided to grab a bite to eat. Once our late night snack was finished, we gave Mill Avenue one more go. Kimberly and I managed to pass out a handful more hugs before heading home. We did not get too far before she wanted some yogurt. Sitting on the hood of her car, we recalled how fantastic the night had been. I have never had such a wonderful time in my life. I do not recall ever feeling so loved, or so loving. The hugs we gave were without condition, and so numerous that I feel silly for thinking only ten would be given. I am glad to have chosen to live in love. It is three days later and I can still feel the happiness and joy running through me.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Complete a Half Marathon, Item #7 Part 1
When I was kid, I used to love running. The overwhelming majority of my childhood memories had something to do with me running. In elementary school, you could not beat me on track and field day. In middle school, I was the master of the 800m and 1600m, and I was in the top 10 for cross country finals both years. I stopped being involved in school sports in high school, but nothing could stop me from running every day after school. I would run four miles, in boots and regular clothing, through desert, up hills, on surface streets, and whatever else I could find.
Then came the Army. Most people who new me both before, and after, my four years of service would agree that the Army changed me for the worse. Without parental supervision, and no longer in boot camp, I found alcohol. What I did not find was a parental figure to guide me through those crucial years from 18-22. I was allowed to run amok, and I did. Skipping through a ton of stuff that I have no desire to speak about, my father died from cancer in 2002. I came home from South Korea just days before he passed and left all too soon thereafter.
Upon returning to Korea, I came to realized that I did not just lose my father, I lost something inside of me that I have not yet been able to regain. I do not know what it is, but I can still feel it is missing. Shortly after returning for my final few months of service, my unit was doing its morning physical training. During this morning's particular run, something weird happened to my knee. Just so everyone knows, do not get hurt in the Army. Their cure for everything is to drink water. The medics and doctors do not heal you, they keep you from dying, it's the Army. Needless to say, my knee was never right afterwards. This, tied in with my severe emotional distress, was no help with the bottle.
To sum up the next few years after my discharge, my drinking became a problem. I treated everyone I loved like shit, hurt my friends, used who ever was in my path, and insulted total strangers for no reason. I became selfish, self-centered, and pretty self destructive. To heal a huge, gaping wound, I chose a band aid that was actually worse for me than the pain I was ignoring. Everyone paid for that, myself included.
The selfish part of my Bucket List is to find a way to be a better, healthier person and lead a good life. The sort of life I had prior to my service, filled with friends and joy. I have come to the conclusion that the best thing I can do for my own happiness is to go back to the way things were before I turned into such a miserable person, and that is to run.
I may be a fool, but I am no idiot. Running long distances is not something one jumps right into, especially when considering my circumstances. I am a thirty year old man who hasn't run since 2002, I weigh 240 pounds, and, before now, I never had a reason to run. I also need to radically alter my diet. The first thing that has to go, regardless of the running, is the alcohol. We had some fun times, but they do not make up for the wasted money, time, or damaged and destroyed relationships. Next, and I am sad to say this, is soda. I also have to cut back on eating meat, start eating fruits and vegetables, along with some other small changes.
I am trying to get into good enough shape to complete a half marathon within the next four to six months, if I can find one. I think I can reasonably, and safely, get down to about 190-205 pounds, run the entire half marathon, and be sober and healthy the whole way through all of it. Once I have done this, then I will know that staying sober, being healthy, and running a full marathon will not be a problem. That marathon will be the PF Chang Rock'n'Roll Marathon in January 2011.
The ultimate goal here is to be the sort of person I was before the Army, happy. I am hoping that, through running, I will find the joy that I once had, sort out all of the nonsense in my head, and deal with the emotions that I have repressed for way too long. I might even be able to fix a few of those damaged relationships.
Then came the Army. Most people who new me both before, and after, my four years of service would agree that the Army changed me for the worse. Without parental supervision, and no longer in boot camp, I found alcohol. What I did not find was a parental figure to guide me through those crucial years from 18-22. I was allowed to run amok, and I did. Skipping through a ton of stuff that I have no desire to speak about, my father died from cancer in 2002. I came home from South Korea just days before he passed and left all too soon thereafter.
Upon returning to Korea, I came to realized that I did not just lose my father, I lost something inside of me that I have not yet been able to regain. I do not know what it is, but I can still feel it is missing. Shortly after returning for my final few months of service, my unit was doing its morning physical training. During this morning's particular run, something weird happened to my knee. Just so everyone knows, do not get hurt in the Army. Their cure for everything is to drink water. The medics and doctors do not heal you, they keep you from dying, it's the Army. Needless to say, my knee was never right afterwards. This, tied in with my severe emotional distress, was no help with the bottle.
To sum up the next few years after my discharge, my drinking became a problem. I treated everyone I loved like shit, hurt my friends, used who ever was in my path, and insulted total strangers for no reason. I became selfish, self-centered, and pretty self destructive. To heal a huge, gaping wound, I chose a band aid that was actually worse for me than the pain I was ignoring. Everyone paid for that, myself included.
The selfish part of my Bucket List is to find a way to be a better, healthier person and lead a good life. The sort of life I had prior to my service, filled with friends and joy. I have come to the conclusion that the best thing I can do for my own happiness is to go back to the way things were before I turned into such a miserable person, and that is to run.
I may be a fool, but I am no idiot. Running long distances is not something one jumps right into, especially when considering my circumstances. I am a thirty year old man who hasn't run since 2002, I weigh 240 pounds, and, before now, I never had a reason to run. I also need to radically alter my diet. The first thing that has to go, regardless of the running, is the alcohol. We had some fun times, but they do not make up for the wasted money, time, or damaged and destroyed relationships. Next, and I am sad to say this, is soda. I also have to cut back on eating meat, start eating fruits and vegetables, along with some other small changes.
I am trying to get into good enough shape to complete a half marathon within the next four to six months, if I can find one. I think I can reasonably, and safely, get down to about 190-205 pounds, run the entire half marathon, and be sober and healthy the whole way through all of it. Once I have done this, then I will know that staying sober, being healthy, and running a full marathon will not be a problem. That marathon will be the PF Chang Rock'n'Roll Marathon in January 2011.
The ultimate goal here is to be the sort of person I was before the Army, happy. I am hoping that, through running, I will find the joy that I once had, sort out all of the nonsense in my head, and deal with the emotions that I have repressed for way too long. I might even be able to fix a few of those damaged relationships.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Kiss Bethani at Midnight 12/31/09-1/1/10, Item #6
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Item #5: Do Something Nice For Someone
This particular item was intentionally vague. I could not forsee the particular circumstances of checking this item off. It could not be nice by my standards, because they are simply too low. If I did something nice for someone, it would have to be acknowledged by the individual that I did it for.
I left work early today because I was feeling a little sick. I figured the best way to get better is to start working out. I decided to work out for an additional reason. On my list, I have "Run 1/2 Marathon" and "Run Marathon". Running 13 miles is not something one just jumps into. You need to be in a shape that is better than bad. Today was day in one in that long treck.
Just down the street from my house, there is a wash that doubles as a park, of sorts. It has a winding sidewalk that goes up and down, and goes along the wash for 3 miles. I simply walked to the end of the walkway and came back. I was wearing shorts, with jeans over them, and my old army boots. I had on a tank top, two long sleeve shirts, and a hoodie. Plus a back pack with a ten pound weight in it. Excellent workout.
While on the return half of this walk/run/hike, I was passing by an individual's house, whose backyard is against the wash. A gentleman was in the backyard with his kids, teaching them some soccer drills. One of the kids managed to kick the soccerball into the wash. Not even thinking about anything, I told the guy I would go ahead and get the ball for them, which I did. Twice. The first time, I grabbed the ball and chucked it like I did back when I was a kid playing goalkeeper in my soccer days. Well, I did not quite get the ball into the backyard. It hit the fence and rolled back into the wash. So, I grabbed the ball again, and just walked it up to the fence and then tossed it over. The guy, who I believe lived in the house, said, "Thank you, that was very nice of you". After the guy said that what I did was nice, I realized I could now check off Item #5.
Not all that far from finishing my workout, I came across a group of kids that were impeding my path, though not intentionally. I do not even think they knew I was behind them. These kids were trying to push their bikes up a portion of the washway that I was trying to run through. One of the kids, however, did not know what he was doing. This little boy was straddling a girls mountain bike that he was shorter than and could not even push on level ground, let alone up this hill. I told the kid to hop off, and I took the bike to the top for him. All the other kids thanked me and said that what I did was nice. The only one that did not say this was the kid I helped. The little dude was completely out of breath from walking to the top of the hill. I think helping a couple of kids out counts as doing something nice.
I left work early today because I was feeling a little sick. I figured the best way to get better is to start working out. I decided to work out for an additional reason. On my list, I have "Run 1/2 Marathon" and "Run Marathon". Running 13 miles is not something one just jumps into. You need to be in a shape that is better than bad. Today was day in one in that long treck.
Just down the street from my house, there is a wash that doubles as a park, of sorts. It has a winding sidewalk that goes up and down, and goes along the wash for 3 miles. I simply walked to the end of the walkway and came back. I was wearing shorts, with jeans over them, and my old army boots. I had on a tank top, two long sleeve shirts, and a hoodie. Plus a back pack with a ten pound weight in it. Excellent workout.
While on the return half of this walk/run/hike, I was passing by an individual's house, whose backyard is against the wash. A gentleman was in the backyard with his kids, teaching them some soccer drills. One of the kids managed to kick the soccerball into the wash. Not even thinking about anything, I told the guy I would go ahead and get the ball for them, which I did. Twice. The first time, I grabbed the ball and chucked it like I did back when I was a kid playing goalkeeper in my soccer days. Well, I did not quite get the ball into the backyard. It hit the fence and rolled back into the wash. So, I grabbed the ball again, and just walked it up to the fence and then tossed it over. The guy, who I believe lived in the house, said, "Thank you, that was very nice of you". After the guy said that what I did was nice, I realized I could now check off Item #5.
Not all that far from finishing my workout, I came across a group of kids that were impeding my path, though not intentionally. I do not even think they knew I was behind them. These kids were trying to push their bikes up a portion of the washway that I was trying to run through. One of the kids, however, did not know what he was doing. This little boy was straddling a girls mountain bike that he was shorter than and could not even push on level ground, let alone up this hill. I told the kid to hop off, and I took the bike to the top for him. All the other kids thanked me and said that what I did was nice. The only one that did not say this was the kid I helped. The little dude was completely out of breath from walking to the top of the hill. I think helping a couple of kids out counts as doing something nice.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Item #3: Do a Beer Run
The thing about this list is that not everything on it is good. Most of them are. One item is questionable. And one is simply not good, "Do a beer run", which I took care of tonight, December 26th, 2009. For those that do not know what a beer run is, here is a brief explanaition. An individual goes into a gas station, or grocery store, grabs some beer, and leaves. Quickly. Stealing beer and hanging out do not exactly go together.
A few people that were privy to a view of my list were surprised to find this on there. From the surprise my friends expressed, doing a beer run seems like part of the American teenager experience. Prior to this moment, I have never stolen anything from anywhere. I have always been on the other side of this event.
While attending ASU, I did work at a Circle K for quite a few months, graveyard being the majority of that time. I had people do beer runs, on average, once a week. Sometimes I laughed, but I usually never cared. It was only when people talked to me that I got mad. One individual was walking out carrying a 24-pack of Bud Light bottles. He looked me in the eyes and said, "I gotta feed my kids, man," and kept on going. What he said does not make sense to the situation, and I do not even know what else to say about it.
Tonight, I hit up a gas station. I walked straight to the beer, grabbed an 18-pack of Bud Light cans, went straight out the door, and left. As I was jumping on my bike, the woman who was working followed me into the parking lot and asked me, "Sir, are you going to pay for that?" I feel this is an incredibly dumb question at this point of the process. I simply said, "No" and went about my life. If one thinks I am a total asshole for doing this, I do not disagree. Another thing one should pay attention to, never follow someone outside the store. Just call the cops.
It is interesting to have experienced this. I do not feel good about it in anyway shape or form. I feel bad for having done it at a gas station, because I know exactly what that woman is feeling right now. I feel bad for having done it the day after Christmas. But mostly, I feel bad because it is just piss-poor behavior. My arms are feeling weird, my gut does not feel right, and I am disappointed in myself for having done this. I instantly thought about going back and paying for it, whether it be tonight or another time. Then I realized that doing so would negate the act itself, as would not drinking the beer. So, bottoms up!
A few people that were privy to a view of my list were surprised to find this on there. From the surprise my friends expressed, doing a beer run seems like part of the American teenager experience. Prior to this moment, I have never stolen anything from anywhere. I have always been on the other side of this event.
While attending ASU, I did work at a Circle K for quite a few months, graveyard being the majority of that time. I had people do beer runs, on average, once a week. Sometimes I laughed, but I usually never cared. It was only when people talked to me that I got mad. One individual was walking out carrying a 24-pack of Bud Light bottles. He looked me in the eyes and said, "I gotta feed my kids, man," and kept on going. What he said does not make sense to the situation, and I do not even know what else to say about it.
Tonight, I hit up a gas station. I walked straight to the beer, grabbed an 18-pack of Bud Light cans, went straight out the door, and left. As I was jumping on my bike, the woman who was working followed me into the parking lot and asked me, "Sir, are you going to pay for that?" I feel this is an incredibly dumb question at this point of the process. I simply said, "No" and went about my life. If one thinks I am a total asshole for doing this, I do not disagree. Another thing one should pay attention to, never follow someone outside the store. Just call the cops.
It is interesting to have experienced this. I do not feel good about it in anyway shape or form. I feel bad for having done it at a gas station, because I know exactly what that woman is feeling right now. I feel bad for having done it the day after Christmas. But mostly, I feel bad because it is just piss-poor behavior. My arms are feeling weird, my gut does not feel right, and I am disappointed in myself for having done this. I instantly thought about going back and paying for it, whether it be tonight or another time. Then I realized that doing so would negate the act itself, as would not drinking the beer. So, bottoms up!
Item #2: Be D.D. For My Friends
This story winds up explaining why I did not take care of Item #1. The words here really can not do justice to what happened on December 12th, and, as usual, certain things are intentionally being withheld. This day did bring to my attention what this list could actually do for me, and, hopefully, other people.
My deadline for telling Bethani that I liked her was not arbitrary. She had originally asked me to join her at her father's Christmas party on this date. After saying yes, the Christmas party turned into a Christmas Bar Crawl in Tempe, AZ, followed up by another person's Thirtieth birthday party. The Tempe Bar Crawl actually turned into a Bar Sit. There were five of us, myself, Bethani, two others who will remain nameless, and (codename) Stacey. This group only made it to two bars. Two. Only two. And this is where everything becomes about Stacey.
I only know this girl in a very minor capacity. I have no room to say anything about her as a person. What I can say, and what I will say, is that I have seen my fair share of drunks, and I have been that emotional drunk my fair share of times. I assume Stacey was just having one of those days. At bar #2, Stacey started sliding from the happy-go-lucky drunk frame of mind to the drunk, psychotic wreck. Her friendship drama with Bethani, no matter how many years in the past it was, started to show itself immediately.
Driving the Arizona freeways with two totally trashed ladies in the car, I navigated my way to the Monastary out in Mesa, as Bethani promised to meet up with her friend who was celebrating her Thirtieth birthday. En route, things got decidely worse with Stacey. She was ramping up the crying, emotional jibber-jabber, hugs, and "I Love You's".
We reached the Monastary safely, and I will say, it is a cool f'ing place to have a B-day party. Here, Stacey turned into the drunk wanderer, hugger, and, probably, moocher and smoocher. She was doing whatever she was doing, and then "it" happened. The moment a drunk person completely flips into the negative realm of being stupid, hammered drunk. This is also the moment that makes the night change. Stacey came walking out of the bathroom with her right hand covered in blood, while being chased down by a bouncer and a waitress. I pointed this out to Bethani, who, being who she is, went running to Stacey to see what was going on.
Skipping through the stuff that I don't know, it had basically become time for us to leave. I intercepted Stacey while she was in the parking lot, talking to a cop. I just gave the cursory, "I'm the D.D. and I'm taking her home" schpiel, with Bethani only steps behind me. Bethani and I got Stacey into the car and headed to Bethani's place. And shit got weird.
Stacey's crying ramped up a ton, then came the yelling. Not words, mind you. But deep, gutteral howls that come from a woman who just saw her child murdered and could not do anything about it. These painful howls came inbetween more "I Love You's" and hugs and singing along with songs and "Thank You's", and it was just a wreck. Beautiful in it's human element, but a total wreck none the less. Stacey did say all sorts of things about what was going on with her, but that information is not for this forum. And if it were, I seriously doubt she would want me to share it.
What really strikes me is the "what if" factor. If I wasn't being DD this day, would all of this still have happened? Yeah, probably. Had this all gone down the exact same way, without me being there, Stacey may have very well hugged Bethani to death, in one form or another. That's just not good for anyone. Back at Bethani's house, Stacey was put to bed, then Bethani and I continued our night. I busted out the whiskey and weed (it was my turn to get messed up) and, as usual, Bethani and I talked about everything. The focus of this talk was obviously about what had gone down. Bethani had even remarked upon the fortunate nature of me being DD on this very night. I believe I did a small amount of good on this night. Should the rest of my list go half as well as this item, I will have a very good, fullfilling life.
My deadline for telling Bethani that I liked her was not arbitrary. She had originally asked me to join her at her father's Christmas party on this date. After saying yes, the Christmas party turned into a Christmas Bar Crawl in Tempe, AZ, followed up by another person's Thirtieth birthday party. The Tempe Bar Crawl actually turned into a Bar Sit. There were five of us, myself, Bethani, two others who will remain nameless, and (codename) Stacey. This group only made it to two bars. Two. Only two. And this is where everything becomes about Stacey.
I only know this girl in a very minor capacity. I have no room to say anything about her as a person. What I can say, and what I will say, is that I have seen my fair share of drunks, and I have been that emotional drunk my fair share of times. I assume Stacey was just having one of those days. At bar #2, Stacey started sliding from the happy-go-lucky drunk frame of mind to the drunk, psychotic wreck. Her friendship drama with Bethani, no matter how many years in the past it was, started to show itself immediately.
Driving the Arizona freeways with two totally trashed ladies in the car, I navigated my way to the Monastary out in Mesa, as Bethani promised to meet up with her friend who was celebrating her Thirtieth birthday. En route, things got decidely worse with Stacey. She was ramping up the crying, emotional jibber-jabber, hugs, and "I Love You's".
We reached the Monastary safely, and I will say, it is a cool f'ing place to have a B-day party. Here, Stacey turned into the drunk wanderer, hugger, and, probably, moocher and smoocher. She was doing whatever she was doing, and then "it" happened. The moment a drunk person completely flips into the negative realm of being stupid, hammered drunk. This is also the moment that makes the night change. Stacey came walking out of the bathroom with her right hand covered in blood, while being chased down by a bouncer and a waitress. I pointed this out to Bethani, who, being who she is, went running to Stacey to see what was going on.
Skipping through the stuff that I don't know, it had basically become time for us to leave. I intercepted Stacey while she was in the parking lot, talking to a cop. I just gave the cursory, "I'm the D.D. and I'm taking her home" schpiel, with Bethani only steps behind me. Bethani and I got Stacey into the car and headed to Bethani's place. And shit got weird.
Stacey's crying ramped up a ton, then came the yelling. Not words, mind you. But deep, gutteral howls that come from a woman who just saw her child murdered and could not do anything about it. These painful howls came inbetween more "I Love You's" and hugs and singing along with songs and "Thank You's", and it was just a wreck. Beautiful in it's human element, but a total wreck none the less. Stacey did say all sorts of things about what was going on with her, but that information is not for this forum. And if it were, I seriously doubt she would want me to share it.
What really strikes me is the "what if" factor. If I wasn't being DD this day, would all of this still have happened? Yeah, probably. Had this all gone down the exact same way, without me being there, Stacey may have very well hugged Bethani to death, in one form or another. That's just not good for anyone. Back at Bethani's house, Stacey was put to bed, then Bethani and I continued our night. I busted out the whiskey and weed (it was my turn to get messed up) and, as usual, Bethani and I talked about everything. The focus of this talk was obviously about what had gone down. Bethani had even remarked upon the fortunate nature of me being DD on this very night. I believe I did a small amount of good on this night. Should the rest of my list go half as well as this item, I will have a very good, fullfilling life.
Item #1, Part 2: Tell Bethani That I Like Her
Life Starts at Thirty
a.k.a
My Bucket List
As with all plans, whether laid by mice and men, or a total idiot, mine fell apart. My self-imposed deadline of December 12th came and went, quickly. The moment I was hoping for never presented itself, so I had to go with the last moment I had available. After being the designated driver on the target date, the next day was riddled with rain, which does not mesh well with motorcycles. Then came Monday morning, and I had to go for it. I couldn't wait any longer.
Very early that morning, I folded up a printed copy of Part 1 of this story and placed it on her kitchen counter. On top of that, I had placed a note saying, "I'm sorry if this freaks you out, but I like you. A Lot." I was sleeping on her sofa when she came down stairs. I heard her open the door to the garage, and I made a B-line for her. I made sure she saw my notes. I admitted to her face that I liked her. It was a weird state of sleepiness and awkwardness on both our parts, but I made sure she took the paper about the first part of the story with her to work. What I got was a, "Thank you," and an, "I'm glad you told me." This immediately made me thankful she was leaving for work. I had my escape route.
Before leaving, I pushed my bike out of her garage and into the driveway. I then made sure all the doors of her house were locked. I slipped out of the garage, electronically shut the garage door, stepped over the sensor, and looked forward to the rest of my day. When I sat on my bike, I noticed the time and how early it was, 7:15 a.m. I then started up my bike, or tried to. The battery on my bike was dead. I was embarrassed by the "Thank you" and horrified by my circumstances. I was now trapped at the house of the girl who thanked me for my honesty, while locked out of that very same house, and dreaded seeing that girl later in the day. I began thinking I had reached a new level of embarassment, one previously unknown to mankind.
I jumped the wall into her backyard and was lucky enough to find a door open. I went through the house, opened the garage door, again, and pulled my bike back in. I went to the gas station around the corner and made some phone calls. I called into work. Then I called Bethani. I made that call as brief as possible. I told her what happened and that I would need a ride home.
I spent the next 9 hours shaking my head, wondering who else on the planet this could possibly happen to, why it happened to me, taking a nap, and then resuming my paranoid embarassament. When Bethani got home from work, I was sitting on her sofa, flipping my lucky coin, watching a movie, and hoping for the right thing to say. What came out of my mouth was aproximately, "Had I known I'd be stuck here, this morning would have been totally different." A few moments passed and she offered to take me somewhere to take care of my bike. I told her I had everything I needed at my house.
Not knowing what she was thinking, or feeling, I offered two options. First, I could take the battery back to my place, charge it for a few days, find my way back to her place, and pick up my bike then. Secondly, we could just go back to my place, I would grab what I needed, go back to her place, and charge my battery there. I did warn her of a 2% chance that my bike would not start and that I could be stuck there another day. Bethani left this choice up to me.
We headed off to my place, with my battery, and belongings, in tow. On the way there, we discussed what needed to be talked about. After telling her how stupid and embarrassed I felt, she showed me all the grace in the world, and put me at ease. This wound up being one of our easiest talks. I told her I would decide what I would do by the time we reached my house. On the way, she had mentioned her friends might be getting together for Monday Night Football: Arizona Cardinals versus the San Francisco 49'ers. She had also mentioned that our joint group of friends were meeting up to watch the game as well. I opted for the long way home, meaning Monday Night Football, and it did not matter who we were spending it with.
As far as football goes, the Cardinals were spectacular failures that night. After the game, and all the goodbye hugs and kisses, Bethani and I went back to her place. I got my bike up and running. And, with all the details intentionally excluded, Bethani and I had another minor talk. After this, I summoned my courage to kiss her. I did ask for permission. Before she could answer, I went for it. I could not hold back any longer. I will say one thing, kissing Bethani was, and is, awesome.
After all of that, I found myself in a precarious situation. I have never developed feelings for someone that was my friend, and a line was definitely crossed here. I automatically recognized that I would have to make decisions based on what will positively advance our friendship, and whatever it is we have now. The trasition from friends to something more is an uncertain path. I hope that we both make the sort of decisions that allow us to remain excellent friends, regardless of what happens at this new level. I do not know if Bethani actually likes me, or if it is my words, how I think about her, or if she was so completely flattered by me that she decided to give me a chance. Despite which of those options it may be, she is a total class act and I just have to keep going for it. What else is there to do?
a.k.a
My Bucket List
As with all plans, whether laid by mice and men, or a total idiot, mine fell apart. My self-imposed deadline of December 12th came and went, quickly. The moment I was hoping for never presented itself, so I had to go with the last moment I had available. After being the designated driver on the target date, the next day was riddled with rain, which does not mesh well with motorcycles. Then came Monday morning, and I had to go for it. I couldn't wait any longer.
Very early that morning, I folded up a printed copy of Part 1 of this story and placed it on her kitchen counter. On top of that, I had placed a note saying, "I'm sorry if this freaks you out, but I like you. A Lot." I was sleeping on her sofa when she came down stairs. I heard her open the door to the garage, and I made a B-line for her. I made sure she saw my notes. I admitted to her face that I liked her. It was a weird state of sleepiness and awkwardness on both our parts, but I made sure she took the paper about the first part of the story with her to work. What I got was a, "Thank you," and an, "I'm glad you told me." This immediately made me thankful she was leaving for work. I had my escape route.
Before leaving, I pushed my bike out of her garage and into the driveway. I then made sure all the doors of her house were locked. I slipped out of the garage, electronically shut the garage door, stepped over the sensor, and looked forward to the rest of my day. When I sat on my bike, I noticed the time and how early it was, 7:15 a.m. I then started up my bike, or tried to. The battery on my bike was dead. I was embarrassed by the "Thank you" and horrified by my circumstances. I was now trapped at the house of the girl who thanked me for my honesty, while locked out of that very same house, and dreaded seeing that girl later in the day. I began thinking I had reached a new level of embarassment, one previously unknown to mankind.
I jumped the wall into her backyard and was lucky enough to find a door open. I went through the house, opened the garage door, again, and pulled my bike back in. I went to the gas station around the corner and made some phone calls. I called into work. Then I called Bethani. I made that call as brief as possible. I told her what happened and that I would need a ride home.
I spent the next 9 hours shaking my head, wondering who else on the planet this could possibly happen to, why it happened to me, taking a nap, and then resuming my paranoid embarassament. When Bethani got home from work, I was sitting on her sofa, flipping my lucky coin, watching a movie, and hoping for the right thing to say. What came out of my mouth was aproximately, "Had I known I'd be stuck here, this morning would have been totally different." A few moments passed and she offered to take me somewhere to take care of my bike. I told her I had everything I needed at my house.
Not knowing what she was thinking, or feeling, I offered two options. First, I could take the battery back to my place, charge it for a few days, find my way back to her place, and pick up my bike then. Secondly, we could just go back to my place, I would grab what I needed, go back to her place, and charge my battery there. I did warn her of a 2% chance that my bike would not start and that I could be stuck there another day. Bethani left this choice up to me.
We headed off to my place, with my battery, and belongings, in tow. On the way there, we discussed what needed to be talked about. After telling her how stupid and embarrassed I felt, she showed me all the grace in the world, and put me at ease. This wound up being one of our easiest talks. I told her I would decide what I would do by the time we reached my house. On the way, she had mentioned her friends might be getting together for Monday Night Football: Arizona Cardinals versus the San Francisco 49'ers. She had also mentioned that our joint group of friends were meeting up to watch the game as well. I opted for the long way home, meaning Monday Night Football, and it did not matter who we were spending it with.
As far as football goes, the Cardinals were spectacular failures that night. After the game, and all the goodbye hugs and kisses, Bethani and I went back to her place. I got my bike up and running. And, with all the details intentionally excluded, Bethani and I had another minor talk. After this, I summoned my courage to kiss her. I did ask for permission. Before she could answer, I went for it. I could not hold back any longer. I will say one thing, kissing Bethani was, and is, awesome.
After all of that, I found myself in a precarious situation. I have never developed feelings for someone that was my friend, and a line was definitely crossed here. I automatically recognized that I would have to make decisions based on what will positively advance our friendship, and whatever it is we have now. The trasition from friends to something more is an uncertain path. I hope that we both make the sort of decisions that allow us to remain excellent friends, regardless of what happens at this new level. I do not know if Bethani actually likes me, or if it is my words, how I think about her, or if she was so completely flattered by me that she decided to give me a chance. Despite which of those options it may be, she is a total class act and I just have to keep going for it. What else is there to do?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)