well this has more plot twists than an episode of dawson's creek
This past week has been an interesting
one. My emotions have ranged from that of giddy with joy, to
devastated beyond all reason (you think I'm being sarcastic here. I
assure you, I am not). I've laughed. I've cried. I've laughed to keep
from crying, and cried from so much laughing; a veritable rollar
coaster indeed.
And now, I must give you updates on
both Mr. Lowe and Mr. E. I hope that after the end of this post, long
winded and dramatic though it may be, you dear readers will be able
to offer me some of the golden advice that you normally do.
Last weekend was the big YSA conference
in California. The only thing I had hoped for all week was the chance
for one slow song with Mr. Lowe at the dance on Friday night. That
was it. My only expectation. But as the night wore on, he didn't even
come over to say hello. My friends insisted that he simply didn't see
me. But I've seen He's Just Not That Into You.
I know how these things work. I kept checking my phone, hoping he
would text. But he never did. The night can be summed up into two
events that happened near the close of the evening.
Event
#1
I was
walking (crutching rather) through a very crowded hallway with a dear
friend, Bessie, who's just received her mission call. Mr. Lowe
spotted her, coming the parallel direction, gave her a quick
congratulatory hug about her mission call, and then smoothly went on
his way. I stood there, mouth agape! My friends turned to me. “He
didn't see you! He's too nice to just ignore you like that! The
hallway is really crowded and you were standing behind us.” Despite
their protestations, I could see that they were just as shocked as I
was.
Event
#2
As I
crutched my way to the dance floor with my friends, I could see Mr.
Lowe dancing out of the corner of my eye, surrounded by other people.
Even though my heart was weeping, I was still determined to have fun.
I would dance, crutches and all! So, I did. Until a slow song came
on. And then that's when I saw Mr. Lowe embrace a petite blond girl
with a hug that seemed to last at least five minutes (which is so
strange because I'm sure the song only lasted about three). With all
the teen angst of a Dawson's Creek episode, I stood there slowly
swaying to the song, trying not to glance their direction as they
danced.
One
more song, and the lights were turned on. Horrified, I crutched my
way to the exit with my friends. What had happened? Our date had been
fun. He said he would take me on another. And even though our texting
was minimal, it was always flirtatious.
I had
almost reached the door when someone came running up behind me. There
was Mr. Lowe, wanting to say hi. He was so genuine. Perhaps, just
maybe, he really hadn't seen me at all that night. He enveloped me in
another awkward crutch hug and told me that he would see me on
Sunday.
As
weak and dramatic as I seem on this blog, I would like to hope that I
put on a brave face in public. Even if Mr. Lowe isn't
interested in me at all, I
thought, I will be mature about this.
Maybe the pre-mission Romantic would have confronted him about it.
But the new Romantic would be friendly and smiling. And no one would
be the wiser that I had ever shed a tear for Mr. Lowe. (Except all of
you, that is)
Sunday
was pleasant. The conference was uplifting. Just what I needed. I was
in good spirits the next time I saw Mr. Lowe. But the metal chairs
were wearing on my Grandma hip, and just before the start of the
fireside, I decided it would be a good idea to take a Percoset.
I'm
afraid, dear readers, that from then on, my memory gets a little
fuzzy. I think I flirted outrageously with more than a few men (Mr.
Lowe being among them). Luckily, they all thought it was endearing.
Which
brings me to the next plot twist. I arrived home that night in a drug
induced stupor. Mr. E unfortunately caught me on Facebook at the
time. I can't explain all the ends and outs of our conversation
because frankly, it's quite boring. Suffice it to say dear readers, I
didn't take your advice concerning him the first time, seriously
enough. He must be deranged. That is the only explanation I can think
of to condone this sort of behavior. He's constantly acting “the
friend” one conversation. And then the next time I talk to him, he
gets possessive and defensive about the idea of me dating other guys.
“Helllllllo!” I want to say, “We've never even been out on one
date! What makes you think you have the right to own me?” The last
time we “spoke” (facebook chatted), he insisted that my reasoning
behind not wanting to date him was just that I was scared; meaning
I'm too scared to actually commit and be in a relationship.
Darn
right I'm scared! Scared you have a shrine built in my honor in the
back of your closet. Or that you might just pull out a meat cleaver
to chop my body into tiny little pieces so you can keep me all to
yourself. I haven't spoken to him since he said I was just too
“scared” to date him. And now dear readers, here comes my
question: Do you think my silence is getting my message across? Or do
I need to say anything more? And heaven forbid I run into him on
campus next week. I can only imagine what a nightmare that would be.
And
now, back to Mr. Lowe:
He
facebook chatted with me yesterday, to see if I'd gotten over the
pain medication of Sunday. And somehow, he convinced me to finally
translate the Korean I'd sent him a few days after I had surgery
(where I told him he was very pogunhaeyo looking).
So I
told him, “Cuddley.... it means cuddley”
To
which he said, “You're so cute.”
And
then there was once of these :)
“Looks
like we have Provo to figure out if you're right.” he then said.
So, in
conclusion I may or not have a potential relationship on my hands
with Mr. Lowe, and a serial killer who might be hiding in behind the
shower curtain in my bathroom this very minute.
But I
remain hopeful, and forever yours,
xoxo
-the
Romantic
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