Oh man.
That can't be true.
July? The last time
I posted anything was in July?
G'lord.
That is painful and
weird and saddening, all wrapped up in a tortilla of
self-disappointment. But, we mustn't linger on blame, no matter how
valid or totally excusable my excuses might be. Just read this with
the knowledge that I am at no fault, and that the only person to
blame, is nobody at all. Especially not me, seeing we already
decided, as a group, that I am at no fault. Shall we begin?
I've been waiting
for my girlfriend's unasked permission to write about her before I
actually started including her in these posts. As in, I wanted her to actually want to be in them, and not feel like she has to be. And
last night, when I asked her what I should write about, she finally
answered “Write one about me and how cute/awesome I am.” Well, at
least she's humble.
However, it seems
that I keep hitting this wall of hesitation when I start writing
about Becca, because I know how it feels to read those Facebook
statuses that are gross and awkward and make me want to cyber-punch
them for making a presence on my wall. You know the ones. So, I'll
try to keep the mushiness down, so that you won't have to.
The day I asked
Becca out is, in itself, a pretty great story. A couple days
beforehand, we were in a friendly group trip to the Boston Museum of
Science (probably one of the most romantic places in the world), and
I found myself trying to spend as much time as possible with this
wonderful, funny girl that I've liked for a while. It just so happens
that she was trying to do the same, so we were inseparable in a world
of dinosaur skeletons, and that thing with the billiard balls. I
freaking love that thing.
Anyways, a couple
days later, we decide to go on a nice lunch date in the park, where I
would proclaim my like to her, and ask her to be my girlfriend. So we
get there, start eating our sandwiches and talk for a while, both of
us knowing that eventually, I would awkwardly ask her to go out with
me. However, I didn't know that she would spend the day playing mind
games on me.
What followed was
about an hour or so of me asking her to be my girlfriend periodically
as we walked the path of Whites Park, which I am only now noticing is
a pretty racist name, only to be told “I'm not sure...” or “Not
quite yet”, for what I can only assume was to make me writhe in my
own socially-awkwardness.
“But Josiah, YOU?
Socially awkward?” you're probably not asking, but I'm pretending
you are so I can feel good about myself, “But you're so witty and
charming in your posts and should be given money and several awards!”
Wow, thank you- Wait a minute. I'm complimenting myself and
pretending that my readers are the ones doing the complimenting. My
God. Am I in this bad of shape? Maybe I should get out more...
But, back to my
point, yes. I'm very socially awkward, and it usually comes in the
form of me constantly getting tongue tied, forgetting words every
other sentence, and not knowing how the hell to introduce myself to
people. But girls are a different matter entirely, because when it
comes to talking to girls I like, my self-conscious meter goes
through several different roofs. I think so hard about what I'm
talking about to the point that everything that would be absolutely
normal and alright to say is complete taboo and I should think of
something else. That usually leads me to say something stupid and
un-suave.
So you can see why
her turning me down every fifteen minutes was really starting to
worry me. I mean, what was I doing wrong, besides barraging her with
questions about whether she would like to be required to be seen with
me in public for an unprecedented amount of time? So, I decided to
stop asking for a while, and just enjoy the walk around the park,
with some delightful, albeit cruel, company.
We finally sat down
on a bench underneath a shady tree. Shady as in, protection from sun
rays, not drug dealer shady. Although, I am assuming a bit there...
But we continued a conversation on that bench for several minutes,
until I realized that she was resting her head on my shoulder, and my
arm was around her. I smiled, and asked her one final time. And she
answered with the most romantic four words I have ever heard. The
four words that sent off our relationship to the heavens in a rocket
ship made purely of profoundness.
“I might as
well.”
