Guido

Now comes the tale of the oh so uneventful Guido. Yes, every girl has had her run in with this type of guy. We all know him so well. He has an affinity for large tanned muscles, hair gel, and protein shakes. My Guido was no different, hence, how he came to be named Guido. I hesitate to even mention this fine fellow as he is a mere blip on the radar of my relationship life. But his character is an important one as he will cause an issue with another major player. So, on we go with the story.

We met through mutual friends. My roommate and I held a weekly movie night at our apartment and it was frequented by Guido and his roommate as well as a few other friends. To say that our brief relationship was a set up is an understatement. The first thing I remember one of my friends telling me was that we would make beautiful babies.  Of course we were perfect for each other. We were both from the same city, duh. We had soooo much in common!  In reality, we couldn’t be more opposite. But it had been a few months since I last dated so why not give it a shot.

To be honest, not much came from our relationship. There was one lunch, one shopping trip, and one kiss before he escorted me to one of my sorority's semi-formal dances. It was pretty lame and doesn't even deserve the title of "relationship." Once the dance was over, we used each other as make out buddies for a while but with nothing to talk about this only lasted so long. And you can image how fast I was out of there when I heard rumors of another girl working her way into his life.

Mr. Movie Man: part four

Now technically speaking, Mr. Movie Man and I weren’t exclusive; however, I know the whole situation wouldn’t sit well with him if he knew. But there wasn’t any reason to be hiding it from him either. I was seeing someone else and we were not in a monogamous relationship so it should have been alright. But the problem was that I felt horrible about it. I knew I was hurting him and that wasn’t good. So I knew I needed to tell him.

I invited him over to dinner on a night when I knew my roommate would be gone. I told him he could spend the night if he wished and he told me he’d bring his dog. That’s not code for anything, he literally brought his dog.

When he got there I had been cooking all day I hopes of keeping my mind off of things. He came in and I sat him down. I figured I needed to rip the band aid off quickly.  I looked at him and told him that I needed to tell him something, that I was seeing someone else. He completely freaked. He started yelling at me and calling me a whore. I reminded him that we weren’t exclusive and that if he wanted to see someone else I didn’t have a problem with it. Mr. Movie Man didn’t seem thrilled. In fact, he stormed out of the apartment and told me to never call him again.

I totally deserved it, that I knew.  I had hoped we could move forward and that he would see it from my point of view but nope. It was a risk I knew I would take in telling him but I felt better coming clean. I hated hurting him and that was the part I was upset about the most.

Now you would think after his response to me telling him I was seeing someone else we would be done. Nope, think again. Two days later I received a call from my mom.  I was shocked by what she told me.

“Don’t freak out, but we got a letter from Mr. Movie Man.”

Say what?

Apparently, Mr. Movie Man felt the need to send my parents a thank you letter for allowing him to date their daughter. He wanted them to know that the break up had nothing to do with them and that he enjoyed his time with them. He also hoped that maybe in sometime in the future, things would work themselves out and he’d see them again.  Well wouldn’t you know that a day after my parents received the letter, he called me. He wanted to work things out and he realized that while it hadn’t been the best move, I had the ability to see who I wanted. There was one stipulation. Moving forward with our relationship meant that we would need to be exclusive. I politely told him no thank you. Mr. Movie Man was stunned. I don’t think he realized I would say “no”. But I realized I didn’t want a relationship with him. If I had, then I wouldn’t be looking for something in other guys.

 So I bid a fine farewell to Mr. Movie Man. Now, whenever I drive by a movie set, I look for him and hope he’s doing better.

Mr. Movie Man: part three

As a warning, I hate telling this story, though it must be told. I feel horrible about what I did and I feel as though I was a terrible person. However, in my defense I was not only straight forward and honest from the beginning of our relationship but during the “issue” as well. Ok here it goes.

Mr. Movie Man and I had not yet done the dirty deed. I actually had no intention of doing it with him. I liked him, but it takes a whole lot more than like to get me to do that. I’m not prude or anything but I’m not a whore either. Anyway, I hadn’t spent the night at his place. On this fateful night, I decided to give in to his advances and spent the night with him, however, I had a party to attend before going over there.

It was a small get together and while there I received a call from Mr. Granola himself. I was stunned and even more surprised that he wanted to see me. I don’t know why but for some reason I felt the need to see Mr. Granola as well. So I did what we all know I shouldn’t have done. I went over to see Mr. Granola.

Now for purposes of this blog I will cut this short. We all know my history with Mr. Granola and we all know that I could not say no to the boy. For some unknown reason, he was my first love and somewhere along the line turned into that antichrist type boyfriend that keeps coming around and screwing up your life. We all have had that in our lives at some point.

So here’s the shortened version of the night. I went over to Mr. Granola’s house. I had some drinks with him and his sister. He asked me to stay. I called Mr. Movie Man and cancelled our night and told him we’d have a rain check to following night. Mr. Granola and I slept together. His little brother walked in on us. Yep, that’s the abridged version of the night. Oh, what? Yeah, talk about awkward.

And as awkward as it was having Mr. Granola’s little brother walk in on us, I knew it was going to be even more awkward in dealing with Mr. Movie Man the following day.

Mr. Movie Man: part two

As for me, I wanted nothing to do with the seriousness. The more he pushed, the further I went in the opposite direction. It wasn’t long before I realized the “talk” was inevitable. One night we were talking on the phone joking around, when he mentioned a girl slipped him her number at a bar.

“Well are you going to call her?” I asked very bluntly.

“No, why would I? I’m dating you.”

This was true, but I wasn’t ready for an exclusive relationship. After the crazy tornado of emotion that was Mr. Emo, I knew I wanted to slow things down majorly with this relationship. And for some reason, the thought of Mr. Movie Man dating someone else didn’t bother me. In fact, I rather liked the idea. Maybe this would change his mind about everything. After all, most of his friends were getting engaged or married and I had a feeling it would only be a matter of time before this was brought up as a topic of discussion.

So what did I do? Well I so eloquently told Mr. Movie Man all of this. Yeah, it wasn’t so eloquent. Actually it was more along the lines of pleading for him to slow this whole thing down. I told him I was in no way ready for a monogamous relationship and he claimed he understood. So I just let it be.

I shouldn’t have let it be. Never let something like that be. A few days later the boy dropped the “L Bomb”. Yes, he said he loved me. And for those who aren’t aware of the timeline that’s gotten faded in all of the story telling, it was about three weeks in.

It was a rather strange drop of the words though. We were driving by an old pharmacy that used to sell Beanie Babies during the nineties. Across the street was an old joke shop that was no longer there. I briefly reminisced on these two stores and he looked at me with widened eyes and said, “Oh my god, I love you. Seriously.” I just looked at him shocked and then he kept muttering it to himself. He kept repeating it, “I love you” until he went quiet and then after about a minute of silence he changed the subject.

The poor guy, I don’t know if I ever really gave him a fair chance. He just seemed so desperate I lost interest and never fully wanted to be with him. I enjoyed his company and I liked the thought of being with someone. Regardless, he kept pushing for a solid exclusive relationship and after about a month and a half I still didn’t want it. I wasn’t seeing anyone else, though I could have, but I just didn’t want to be tied down. Well I finally got to my breaking point.

Mr. Movie Man: part one

Alright, so give me a minute to re-introduce you to Mr. Movie Man. Remember the guy I met on the set of the music video? The one who all my friends were into? Yes, him. What I forgot to mention was while Mr. Emo and I were dating, I received a facebook message from Mr. Movie Man. He had found me on Facebook and wanted to ask me out. I told him that while I was flattered, I was dating someone. We kept in touch, just random the random how are you’s and nothing more. Well, after Mr. Emo and I broke up I decided to mention it to him, casually.

The next thing I knew was that we were spending large amounts of time together. He was very nice and cute but he was a lot older. Like by six years. He owned his own business that catered movie sets and was doing very well. Mr. Movie Man helped me movie into my first apartment and there he met my parents. They loved him! I guess he saw this as a green light and tried to push our relationship to a new level. He wanted to get serious, and quickly.

Mr. Emo: part three

Our romance was a whirlwind and I’m not quite sure how romantic it actually was but hey, I enjoyed it none the less. Mr. Emo made me step outside my comfort zone. The time came for me to introduce him to my friends and they loved him. He was welcomed by my high school friends at a summer party/reunion that I threw at parent’s house. My mom asked that he not sleep in my bedroom if he spent the night and I agreed.

The party went off smashingly. Everyone had a great time. One of my friends stayed in my room with me but left when Mr. Emo came to wake me up. I was groggy when he started poking me in the side. I looked up at him and saw that there was something tragically wrong. Suddenly he burst into tears. From in between tears I discovered that he had just received a phone call about one of his friends who had overdosed on some kind of serious drug. We sat on the floor of bedroom and talked. Well, he talked, I just sat there listening and trying to figure out what to do. He wanted to go but I knew that he had been drinking. He seemed alright but I wasn’t about to take any chances. He had been drinking, he was really upset, and it was late. Those three things never make for safe driving when combined. I tried to talk him out of leaving and he told me he was going to head to the Waffle House down the street for some food. Mr. Emo promised me he would come back. As he left, I had a bad feeling about things.

Mr. Emo came back with food. We ate in silence on the floor of my bedroom. I didn’t eat much and when he finished with his food he just stared at the wall. Finally he shook his head, looked up at me and told me he needed to leave.

The next few days went by slowly. I didn’t hear much from Mr. Emo. He seemed to need his space and felt like I should give it to him. After a week decided I needed to see him and clear the awkward air. I called him up and he seemed excited that I wanted to come visit him at his parent’s house. Before I made the trek up there, I made a “be happy” cake for him. Maybe it was too much, but he needed to be cheered up and what better way than a cake?

I got up to his parent’s house and it was really good to see him. He loved the cake and we stared to plan our day. He wanted to show me his town. We went to his old high school, his church, and then we did some of the touristy things in the downtown part of his town. We had a blast. Then we went back to his parent’s house and did things we probably shouldn’t have done; at least things that I’m not going write about. It just wouldn’t be decent.

Mr. Emo decided he wanted some cake, so we went back downstairs and broke into the cake. His mood shifted suddenly. He went from happy go lucky to quiet and sulky. He stopped playing with his cake and looked up at me. Then he said it. “I think we should talk… I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”  WTF, seriously? I just drove all the way to your parent’s house after baking you a cake, spent the day sightseeing with you, did the dirty, dirty with you, and now you’re breaking up with me? Dude, you got problems.

So I left. I drove home crying and oh, was I pissed off.  A few weeks later got a call from him. He was threatening suicide on the phone and questioning the purpose of his life. It was more than I could handle and I told him that. I still liked him but this was well beyond anything I wanted to deal with.

He never did hurt himself. Well I don’t actually know that but I do know he’s still alive and based on facebook he’s seeing some girl now and seems happy. Maybe he isn’t the Emo mess he once was.

Mr. Emo: part two

As sad as it sounds I don’t remember much of our courtship. We seemed to go from zero to sixty. Everything became very serious very quickly. Mr. Emo and I were inseparable. Our schedule made it so we could go to each other’s classes, so we did. Suddenly I was sitting in on accounting classes and passing notes about plans for the weekend.

It was getting to be summer and Mr. Emo was getting ready to move back home. He was living in the college dorms and needed to move all of his things back to his mother’s house. There it was, the perfect time to meet his mother.

His home town was about forty five minutes away. We cut that time in half by speeding down the highway in his sporty little mini cooper. When we got to his house I was shocked. He lived in a quiet cute little neighborhood in a nice brick house that looked out over the 6^th hole of a private golf course. This was not the upbringing of the dark, shy, seemingly moody emo kid that I had imagined. His mother greeted us at the door with two huge mason jars filled with sweet tea. She gave me a warm hug and invited me in. She was one of the bubbliest people I’ve ever met. We had a great afternoon talking with Mr. Emo’s mother before she had to run out to the grocery store. She asked if I’d be staying for dinner and I had to decline. We were on our way back to the city to get another carload of Mr. Emo’s belongings.

After his mother left, Mr. Emo asked me if I wanted a quick tour of the neighborhood. I said sure and we were on our way. Living on a golf course, naturally he owned a golf cart. So we hopped in and started on the tour.

A Return to Blogland

Yep, that's right! I'm back. And hopefully will be writing once a day again. Ok well, lets be realistic, at least twice a week. But its better than nothing. To start the process, I've given the blog a nice little face lift. Hopefully, you'll like it too. I'm having some technical difficulties with the layout so hang in there and hopefully it will be back to normal soon.

Today I will be starting the writing process and I will be posting a new story tomorrow. So stay tuned! To keep you interested, here are a list of the stories left to write...

7. Mr. Emo

8. Movie man

9. Guido

10. The worst date

11. The love of my life

12. Country bumpkin

13. The second ginger

14. Drunken Frenchman

15. First Class Frank: take three

16. Bank boy

17. The movie star



I'll be back....

Oh bother! Well my intent was to write once a day and lets be honest, that has not happened. Because of everything that's going on with my internship, and how it effects my grade, (which means if I mess up, I won't graduate) I have to take a temporary hiatus. I will be back April 27th. I can promise you that. Until then, so sorry. My life has been BANANAS working at least 12 hours a day, four or five days a week. The other days, I sleep... So to all you reading, check back in on April 27th and Mr. Emo, and other adventures that have not been discussed yet, will continue!

Mr. Emo: part one

Oh the Emotional man. Where to begin with this story? Well I first must state that I had no idea about his emotional baggage (hence his name) and had I known in the beginning I probably would not have gone very far with him, because to tell you the truth, I was the one who was an emotional wreck at the end of all of this.

My sorority sister, Michelle, set up a little meet and greet session with Mr. Emo in the main Courtyard of the school. There were a few other people there too to try and limit the awkwardness. Luckily it worked and to my surprise, I really liked this guy. He was quite cute and strangely charming. I was bummed that I had to cut the meeting short, as I needed to run to class, but I told Michelle that I’d talk to her later. I said my goodbyes and hurried off to class. I sent Michelle a text message from class telling her to meet up with me at the sorority house later to talk about how the Courtyard meeting went. 

When I got to the house, all the girls were talking up a storm. Apparently there was some movie being filmed on campus and a group was debating whether or not they should go watch it being made. Michelle looked at me and I knew she wanted to go. A perfect opportunity to analyze our meeting before, and see what all the fuss was about, I figured I was in.

It was a good 15 minute walk to get to the part of campus where the movie was being filmed, plenty of time to analyze the possible date situation with Mr. Emo. Michelle smiled and told me that Mr. Emo was very happy to have met me. I was thrilled. She asked if she could give him my number and I of course said yes.

It was right about this time that we stumbled onto the movie set. Sarah (another sorority sister), Michelle, and I were all just sitting there watching the chaos. We sat there for a good ten minutes trying to figure out what on earth was going on. A man nearby overheard us talking and joined in our conversation. He worked with the filming company that was shooting the movie. It turns out it was only a music video shoot, nothing too exciting, just some rap artist that I had never heard of. The Movie Man was really nice and seemed to think it was funny that a bunch of girls came out to watch a rap video being filmed. We weren’t the only ones though. I had a feeling he was trying to hit on Michelle and when he turned around for a second she whispered to me that she thought he was cute. This was just a bad idea for her, as she was currently on again off again with a long term boyfriend.  Well it didn’t matter. The movie was still interesting to watch and now, after having confirmed that Mr. Emo was still interested, Michelle and I had exciting things to talk about.  

So dreadfully sorry....

I have been sick with the flu for a week straight and I can't seem to do anything but cough. There will be more coming soon. I promise! I just need to breathe first.

Goodbye First Class Frank, and Hello Mr. Emo

I flew home a couple of days later. It was a bittersweet goodbye as I wasn’t sure how my leaving would affect our relationship. I knew me being ill put quite a damper on the should-be romance of the trip. We left our relationship status open. Between the distance and school schedules it didn’t make a whole lot of sense to commit to Frank again. Frank seemed to be alright with this. He knew that it was the responsible thing to do; having an open relationship that it. I could tell he was a bit bummed but knew it was for the best. I thought that given time, all would work itself out and we’d be back together once the summer rolled around. Little did I know, there would be a new someone waiting for me back at home.

Before I left to see Frank, I had gone against my best wishes and did the unthinkable. I joined a sorority. When applying to colleges, when I was back in high school, I specifically avoided even applying to schools with Greek systems. I felt those schools only partied and academics were the last thing that was thought about. So imagine my friend’s and family’s surprise, hell even my own surprise, when I found myself looking at joining one.

After the break up with Mr. Granola, I knew that I couldn’t attend a school near him. I also knew that I’d probably end up transferring schools multiple times until I found something I was looking for, although I wasn’t sure what that was. But I liked my classes at this city school, and I liked the whole environment of it. All I needed to make a smaller community for myself and a close group of friends so I wouldn’t end up hopelessly college hopping.

I was contacted by a girl through Facebook and asked to come out for some of the informal Spring Recruitment activities. To my surprise, I really liked the girls. None of them fit into that stereotypical cookie cutter I had expected. Instead, they were all unique. Some were preppy, some artsy, some all tattooed up. I felt like there was something there that I should be a part of. This was my chance for a smaller community at such a large school. So I joined.

Anyways, one of my pledge sisters was so excited to talk to me when I got back from my visit with Frank. She told me she needed to tell me something important. I wasn’t quite sure what all the fuss was about. I finally got in touch with her and she informed me that one of her guy friends had seen a picture of me. Apparently, he was intent on meeting me. I agreed, figuring there would be nothing there but another chance at a friendship.

First Class Frank: Round Two, Part Two

Time came to leave for my spring break trip. I packed up my stuff and hit the road, or air because I flew. I got to my final destination and was greeted by my aunt. I stayed with her and my uncle for the first few days of my trip while Frank was finishing up his classes up his weekly classes.

It was my first time in this city and had fun being a total tourist with my aunt. She lives about 30 minutes outside the city and it’s an easy ride to surrounding locations. We walked on the beach and had lunch at fabulous places, went to a few museums and walked around some large lush gardens. Then the time came to say goodbye. Frank was on his way to pick me up.

Frank called when he arrived at their house. He came in and met my local family. It was a quick meet and greet as we didn’t want to hit traffic. His school was about 45-50 minutes away and with traffic it would probably take two to three hours. Frank grabbed my stuff and got my door for me (as was normal for him) and I got in. As he got into the car, he sat down and reached behind my seat. He pulled out five beautiful white Calla Lilies (which just happen to be my favorite flower). He smiled and placed them in my lap, and continued to fasten his seat belt and back the car out of the driveway. I looked at him blankly and he explained.

“If I get another chance with you, I’m going to do it right. I messed up my last chance; I’m not going to do it again this time.”

I didn’t really know what to say to this, so I said nothing. It was a fairly quiet ride until my stomach started growling. I was starving and so was Frank. We stopped at a nice restaurant about 20 minutes away from his school. There was a bit of a wait so we walked around the town square for a while. As we walked, he grabbed my hand. He squeezed it and I looked up at him.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he beamed. I had never seen him so happy before.

We walked back to the restaurant and ate dinner. When we got back into his car and there was an oh-so-familiar pause. He smiled again, grabbed my hand and held it tight. He then asked me if it would be ok if he kissed me. I wasn’t really sure what to say. No one had ever asked me before. It was kind of sweet and he had been the perfect gentleman all night. What could I say? So I said yes.

It was one of the sweetest kisses of my life. He was so nervous it was like our first kiss all over again. He couldn’t stop smiling though. He was so happy and that made me happy.

We finally got to his school and I got settled in his room. He had a single room but still had two beds. He set up my things on the other side of the room and told me that he didn’t expect me to share a bed with him. He didn’t want me to feel awkward.  What he didn’t know was that in saying all of this, he made me feel awkward. Well, even though there were two beds, we ended up sharing a bed. We didn’t do anything though… not the first night at least.

First Class Frank: Round Two, Part One

WTF? Really? Him again?

First, a random side story/rant session:

What a beautiful day it was today. So nice in fact that I decided to drive around with my windows down. I was searching the radio for some good tunes at a light when I hear someone yell, “Hey…”

Well I looked over and see a car of young adolescent boys, probably just old enough to be driving. As I look over, one of the young men in the back of the car sticks his head out of the driver’s side window and yells, “I think about you when I masturbate.”  The entire group of lads proceeds to burst into fits of laughter.  Looking back, I should have said something witty like, “Well if you had a better pick up line, then maybe you wouldn’t have to give yourself a hand job.” But I was slightly shocked at this boy’s forward, and strange, confession. So what could I say but, “Thank you…?” I suppose it was, in a way, a compliment.

But now my question is this, what did he expect my response to be? Did he want me to be embarrassed and ashamed? Or did he want me to stop my car, get out and confess my undying love to him? Was that comment supposed to make me swoon? It definitely did not. Why do men say things like this? I just don’t understand. Maybe, if I keep writing and compiling all my strange dating stories, something will become clear…

Now, back to the main story.

Yes, and I totally blame myself for this repeat. Now I know better, but then not so much. It all started when I decided to send care packages to some friends from High School. Everyone could use some cookies and brownies and such. In the post breakup mental state I was in, I began to feel guilty for breaking up with First Class Frank. I started second guessing my decision and stated to realize that I had never really given him a fair shot. I hadn’t gotten over Mr. Granola enough to really put my all into my relationship with Frank.

So with this thought in my head, I went ahead and sent him an apology with some cookies and treats. I hadn’t spoken to him in a while and received a call from him within a few days of sending the care package. After that call we spoke to each other frequently; almost every day. We became pen pals in a way, sending each other cards and notes, and speaking on the phone and emailing.

Spring break was right around the corner and he invited me out to see him. He lived in a warm location with a wonderful beach. I was hesitant to go but figured it would be nice to visit, and there was the added bonus of seeing some family while I was out that way.  So I looked up some cheap air fare and made plans with my family. This would not be the first or last time I’d travel long distances to see Frank.

The Racist: Part Two

I didn’t quite know what to make of the new flirtatious nature of my note buddy. I took it as charming and cute at first but by the second day of him trying to flirt, things got uncomfortable. I didn’t want to avoid my regular seat and I really did like talking to someone. I just hoped he’d pick up on normal social cues. You know, the silent cues that mean “get the heck away from me; I don’t like you like that”? I thought everyone in the world knows those cues, but nope. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

Everything started to get worst quickly. My note buddy passed me a note and I opened to find the following message:

“So have you ever dated an Asian guy?”

Now here in this story, I might need to mention that my gangster note buddy was Asian. I didn’t mention it earlier and realized that now, it’s an important part of the story.

            So, how did I respond?

            “No.”

To which he wrote:

            “So, why not? Are you racist?”

Really? My friends and family know that this is not true in the slightest. So, one, the fact that he asked me if I was racist is hilarious and two, realizing that he was still attempting to hit on me makes it that much more funny! At the time however, the situation just got even more awkward.  How on earth was I supposed to respond to this?

            “No.” I wrote once more.

            “Well have you ever dated anyone who wasn’t white?”

            “No.”

            “So you are racist!”

            “No, I’ve just never been asked out by anyone outside of my race. I’ve only dated three people…”

            “So, would you be opposed to dating or going out on at least one date with an Asian? ;)”

             “Well, I have a boyfriend. So, sorry I don’t think it would work.”

             “I don’t believe you.”

            “Ok, you don’t have to. But I do. He goes to another school.”

            “Well, when’s his birthday? What’s his favorite color? When did you meet?...”

This was followed by a series of similar questions. Apparently, I was being quizzed on my fib. Luckily, I passed with flying colors as I just used all of Mr. Granola’s information. Phew.

            I changed seats the next day and never sat next the The Racist again.

The Racist: Part One

I am so excited to finally get to a totally different guy, the racist. When recounting the stories of my love life, the racist is pretty low on the radar. He’s not the most influential story, and actually, there isn’t really any romance involved, although he might have thought so. However, it’s incredibly amusing and for that reason will be told.

I had started classes at the city school and without Mr. Granola, my life seemed miserable. How anyone in any of my classes thought I was normal, I do not know. My eyes were perpetually swollen shut and I refused to talk to anyone. Slowly, I started coming out of my secretive shell but at this big school, which was at least five times larger in terms of student body population, meeting new people was problematic.  

My classes were fine, fairly straightforward and nothing out of the ordinary. I had exempted out of a general Psychology class but figured it would be an easy A and I needed to take it to transfer. I didn’t know if I would transfer anymore but just in case, it was better to take it.

So there I sat, bored out of my mind, in a huge lecture class. I am a creature of habit and sat in the same seat day after day. I soon realized that others did the same thing. One day our teacher was late. I didn’t know the time limit to the “Late Teacher Rule” (if the teacher is over 15 minutes late then you can leave) at this new school and asked the guy sitting next to me.  He was your typical gangster rapper kid. He wore a flat billed baseball hat sideways on his head. It was probably 5 sizes to big as well. His pants and shirt were also on the large and baggy side.   There was some graphic graffiti looking logo and his look wouldn’t be complete without the ridiculously large single cubic zirconium stud in his right ear lobe. He told me that the rule was 15 minutes, and we kept talking after that. It was actually nice to talk to someone. Then a few minutes later, the teacher came in and started class. Class ended and we said our goodbyes.

The following day, the gangster rapper kid sat next to me again. This time he introduced himself properly and we picked up talking were we left off the day before. Once again, it was nice to talk to someone. This day was different though. He wanted to keep talking when the teacher started class. I found this awkward. Yes, it was a huge lecture class and yes I was glad to finally be talking to someone but I really didn’t want to be talking during class. I’m sort of a goodie-goodie like that…

So our conversation switched to good old note passing. And so it continued. Every class, I would talk to my note buddy. He was nice but I was in NO WAY interested in him. I had just gotten my heart trampled on by Mr. Granola and I wasn’t planning on staying at this school. And even if those two factors weren’t there, this guy was not my type. I didn’t think he’d go for a girl like me anyway, so I just didn’t think about it as a possibility.

Well I probably should have thought about the possibilities because the very next day, my note buddy started hitting on me and through a note nonetheless.

Mr. Granola: Round Two, Part Six

First, before I continue on with my story, I would like to take a second dedicate this post to my cousin. She is one of the people who knows who I am and has supported my crazy blog idea.

Oh my dear girl, life may throw you some curve balls and you might be down sometimes. Just know, everything will get better. There is a man out there who will worship the ground you walk on and will make you happier than you thought was humanly possible. I know everything hurts right now but you have no idea what life has in store for you and you are just about to start your journey. I am so excited for you. Take every opportunity presented to you. Now is your time to make mistakes and live on the wild side. Our older cousin told me this when Mr. Granola and I broke up for the second time (I haven’t gotten to that part of the story yet, but keep reading and I will!). She is wise beyond her years and I don’t regret a single part of my life so far. Don’t regret anything in yours. I love you cousin. Stay strong and stay true to yourself!

Ok enough with the mushy stuff and all the wonderful clichés. Back to the story.

So I had mixed feelings on leaving the itty bitty college. But the promise of a shared life with Mr. Granola kept me focused. I also knew that if the drama with the small college stopped (that is my constant complaining) then the drama with Mr. Granola might stop as well. I so wanted to go back to how we were before I started school. Because of these reasons and a few others as well, I decided to go ahead and leave the college. I was to start at the school in the city and would transfer the following fall up to a school near Mr. Granola.

I started to pack my belongings and the day I moved, Mr. Granola was supposed to help. His SUV would come in handy, but just like when I moved in, he suddenly became mysteriously busy. Once again I was angry but bit my tongue. I was leaving drama; I didn’t want to start more.

I moved back home and got all settled in. It was funny to be back home and I was nervous to be at a school where I knew no one. After a brief break, I started classes at the start of the semester. My first day went well until I got home. What waited for me there would completely crush me.

Mr. Granola called that night. He was crying. The boy never cried. He told me he had to break up with me before he left to go back to school. He couldn’t be with me. He told me he didn’t love me and that he never had. I couldn’t understand where this was coming from or what he was talking about. It all seemed completely surreal. Everything we had been through all of a sudden seemed to be a sham.

 I balled hysterically for about a week. I went to most of my classes but missed a good handful too. The classes I did go to, I could barely see the board because my eyes were so badly swollen from crying. And what made everything worst was having to figure out how to possibly choose a school to go to the following year. I couldn’t apply to any other schools, as it was past all of the deadlines. So for right now, I was seemingly stuck at the city school.

Mr. Granola: Round Two, Part Five

*Side note before we begin: so dreadfully sorry for not fixing some the typos in the stories. I had planned on doing that but I have started an intership this week. No sleep plus work plus more work plus normal life does not equal time to get extra stuff done. I'm struggling to get these post out daily. But I promised myself I would, so I'll try my best!

The tailgating was fun. We hung out with a smaller group of Mr. Granola’s close friends and I was welcomed with open arms. I learned how to play classic drinking and tailgating games, and ate tons of food from little grills that dotted the parking lot.

 It’s at this point, that I have to let you in on a secret. I hate football. I’ve never been able to understand the game and just cheer when other people around me cheer. I’ve always been frustrated by my lack of understanding for the game. I’m a smart girl, I feel like it shouldn’t be hard to understand a game that most people understand, but my brain doesn’t work in the way of sports. So when it was time for the actual game portion of the day, I was completely lost. Mr. Granola didn’t help. He became drunkenly consumed in the game and got upset with me when I didn’t share in the home team spirit.

That night we went to another party and once again, I was hit on by a slew of men that didn’t include my boyfriend. At the end of the night, when we arrived back at the apartment, Mr. Granola actually got into bed with me. When I brought up how upset I was about the entire weekend and how it had gone (which by the way, was not confrontational in the least, because I’m not a super confrontational person) he made it seem as though I was blowing things way out of proportion. When I started to cry at his harsh recap of the weekend the way he saw it, he rolled over and refused to talk to me for the rest of the night. Once again, I felt alone in a place I was supposed to be moving to in less than a year.

The next morning, Mr. Granola was beyond attentive. I am not sure if what I said sunk in, or he was just feeling guilty for making me cry. But everything felt like old times again. This is what I had missed the past couple of days. I was glad it was just in time for the five hour drive home.

The car ride home was great. We discussed what would happen with him leaving early and the conclusion was essentially that we would figure it out. I’d still apply to a few different schools in the area and see what would happen.

Once back at school, I felt the need to play hard to get after how the weekend away went. I stopped calling him every night in hopes that he would call me. He didn’t. I tried to get him to make plans to come visit me and see my campus. He wouldn’t. To make matters worse, my roommate situation had gotten out of control. I needed to get a new room, but nobody wanted a roommate change mid semester. It got so bad that I started to commute from my parent’s house daily. An hour and a half drive at least, with an eight a.m. class was far from ideal but was the only thing I could do to stay sane.

Finally I got a new roommate! From that point on things improved tenfold.  I figured everything in my life would improve as well. For a while I was right, I got accepted into all of the schools I applied to for transfer and I was able to get into a school in the city midyear (which almost never happens) so I wouldn’t have to stay at the small school I grew to hate so much. Mr. Granola had been going through something and things weren’t perfect between us. I just assumed it was the distance taking its toll.

It was far harder leaving the school I hated than I could have imagined. I might have hated the school but my new roommate had become my partner in crime. I had joined a sports team as well and made an incredible group of friends. I would miss them and wasn’t sure if I’d be happy at my temporary school in the city. The last few days on campus were incredible. I think my friends and I ate 5 pints of ice cream and watched The Sandlot at least four times in a row. We stayed in our pajamas and skipped class. We carefully drank the vodka that I managed to smuggle on campus. For the first time, I didn’t want to leave.

Mr. Granola: Round Two, Part Four

We arrived at Mr. Granola’s friend’s apartment. When we walked in I was hit by a cloud of pot. In fact the entire house reeked of weed. Oh what an interesting weekend this would be. I was shown to the room downstairs were we’d be staying and I quickly changed into something cute. The boys waited on me to finish changing and we walked to the party.

The entire night was drinking, drugs, and rock and roll. I knew no one and Mr. Granola wasn’t too good at introductions. I was left to fend for myself multiple times that evening. I got hit on by countless drunks and one in particular was completely relentless. I found Mr. Granola and told him about my stalker.

“Has he touched you?”

“Well, no, but,” I started.

“Well if he kisses you then I’ll talk to him, but I’m not starting anything over nothing. It’s not like I’d beat someone up for you, sweetheart,” Mr. Granola said.

Are you kidding me? Wtf?

He went back to a conversation he was having with one of his friends.

“Yeah man, I’m heading back and starting classes next semester.”

What?  Those were not the plans we had talked about. What happened to me transferring to the neighboring school? Us getting an apartment together? What happened to the dog? I was not happy. Not only had I discovered the secret smoking habit, but I was humiliated, and felt as though I had been lied to once again. I was done with this trip and I couldn’t get home without Mr. Granola.

When we got back to his friend’s apartment, I decided to head to bed. Mr. Granola stayed up with his friend. This wasn’t how I envisioned this trip. I tried to stay up and wait for Mr. Granola to come to bed but I ended up crying myself to sleep.

            The next morning, I woke up to find that Mr. Granola had never come to bed the night before. I had no idea where he was. I walked up stairs to find him asleep on the couch. I stood there looking at him bewildered for a few seconds before he started blinking his eyes and blearily looked at me. He sat up and smiled, rubbed his eyes and asked me what time it was. We had a football game to go to and tailgating festivities would begin soon. Mr. Granola didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that he left me alone downstairs to sleep by myself. Quickly, we got ready to go and headed out the door.

Mr. Granola: Round Two, Part Three

*For those reading, I promise there are other guys. The beginning of my love life was dominated by the two men I’ve been writing about. But I promise you, keep reading, more characters will be introduced.

We were all set to leave for our weekend trip. I was thrilled. This was my first overnight trip with a significant other. It was a five hour car ride to the college campus and I was ready of some serious one on one time with Mr. Granola. The beginning of the car ride was a rough one. We left far too late, due to Mr. Granola’s intrusive mother and managed to hit immense amounts of rush-hour traffic. Because of the traffic, meddling mother, and just plain end of week exhaustion, Mr. Granola was snappy and short tempered. I felt like I couldn’t say or do anything right. This was not the way I wanted to be introduced to his friends.

At the half way mark, we stopped to get gas. Mr. Granola went inside to grab something to drink and came out with a pack of cigarettes. As he walked out, he handed me a bottle of water, opened the pack of cigarettes, and lit one. I was stunned. No words could possibly begin to explain the intense fury that I felt in that moment. I had dated Mr. Granola for a total of nine plus months. In all of that time, not once did I know he smoked. Smoking for me is a deal breaker. My grandmother and uncle died from lung cancer and I refuse to be with someone who indulges in that behavior. If you smoke, that is your choice and I have no problem with it. However, if you date me, I can’t tolerate it. Mr. Granola knew this. We had talked about it before and he had been sympathetic. He hid this habit from me for over nine months. What else could he possibly be hiding?

I was without words for the remainder of the car ride. He knew there was an issue, he wasn’t stupid. Mr. Granola asked me what was wrong, though he very obviously knew. I told him the truth; I was upset he’d hidden the fact that he smoked from me. 

“I thought you knew. I never hid it from you,” he responded.

“How come I didn’t know after nine months?”

“I don’t smoke that often, but I have done it for years.”

And just like that the conversation was over.

We continued our trip which felt like it was taking an eternity. We stopped one more time to stretch out legs. This time, no cigarettes. It was pitch black outside the car. Mr. Granola turned to me and said he wanted to show me something. He threw open the sun roof and opened the window.  A freezing breeze blew into the car but that wasn’t why tears came to my eyes. Above me was the most impressive display of stars I have ever seen in my life. Still to this day, I can go back to that moment and see those stars in my mind. Mr. Granola turned to me smiled.
“I’m so sorry I’ve been such a grouch. I promise the rest of this trip will be amazing. I love you,” he said.

Mr. Granola: Round Two, Part Two

         

           Somehow we ended up back together. Looking back now, I’m not sure how quite how it happened; it was just kind of understood and we picked up where we left off. The rest of my summer was spent with him. We were once again inseparable and I liked it.

            Not to say that there weren’t some complications involved in our newly rekindled romance. When Frank found out that Mr. Granola and I were seeing each other again, and so soon after, he flipped. Frank despised Mr. Granola for no other reason than the fact that he was my first love and I had never truly gotten over him. I guess Frank saw him as competition. But Frank wasn’t the only one who was hesitant about my decision to try things again with Mr. Granola. My parents and a good number of my friends were not completely on board. Their criticism just made me work that much harder to make this relationship work. I knew I was leaving for school but it was only an hour and a half away from him. It had great potential.

 Time came for me to pack up and move to school. Mr. Granola promised to help but was somehow mysteriously busy when the time actually came. Once at school I met my roommate and started to unpack all of my things. It was about a week later that I realized how miserable I was at this school. Everything I had wanted in a college was wrong. I thought I wanted a small, conservative college, no big party scene, and beautiful campus, far away from any big city. Turns out all those things created a small, conservative, small-minded campus that was far away from any town bigger than 500 people. I was bored. My class schedule couldn’t even begin to compare to my rigorous high school schedule and I was about a month ahead on all my work. And to top off everything, my super conservative roommate judged me night and day on the fact that I was in a relationship and not saving myself for marriage.

I was miserable. I went home whenever possible and found refuge in my relationship. But turning to Mr. Granola to fix my misery suddenly took a toll. We never fought but began fighting on a regular basis. He was under an extreme amount of pressure to fix everything that happened with the accident over the summer. He was taking some time off from school and was unsure of when he’d go back. We needed to talk and come up with a plan.

The talk was serious but exciting. Mr. Granola would return to school the next year and I would transfer to a school around his. We’d get an apartment somewhere in between the two schools and both commute. Then there was talk about a dog and which schools I was applying to. There was a load to think about but totally worth it. We planned a weekend trip to his school so we could find a place, I could meet his friends, and I could visit some schools. I was giddy with excitement. It was all settled and our future was starting to become clearer.

Mr. Granola: Round Two, Part One

I got the call very early in the morning and I only half understood who was on the other end. By the time I was able to fully comprehend who it was, I was almost in tears by what they were saying. It was Mr. Granola. I hadn’t heard from him in a few months. While dating Frank, I had received a few emails and drunken phone calls; nothing out of the ordinary.

 The news on the other end of the phone was what I had secretly always worried about. Mr. Granola had been in an accident, a bad one too. The car was totaled. The drunken idiot drove his car into a tree. I wasn’t sure why exactly he was calling me. The conversation only lasted a few minutes which was a mixed blessing because I could go back to sleep but I couldn’t really after that phone call.

I called him the next day when it became a more reasonable hour. It wasn’t much of a conversation, just clarifying that he was in fact alive and not in the hospital. He told me he was a bit cut up from glass but would fine overall. He just needed some R and R and he would call me in a few days.

It took him about a week to get back to me. He was dealing with the implications of the accident meaning insurance companies, getting a new a car, and most importantly, dealing with the parentals. But he wanted me to come over so we could catch up. He told me he would cook some dinner.

First Class Frank: Part Three

I got over the entire situation somehow. I don’t even remember how, he probably sweet talked his way out of trouble again. Before I knew it graduation came and went. There were tons of parties. My parents threw me an amazing party.  My cousin came down to Atlanta as a surprise. Now one would think that with me being as happy as I was on such an occasion, those around me would share in my joy. Well you would be wrong to think such a thing. First Class Frank was in a foul mood because he was not the center of attention. It was so noticeable that his mother, who was kind enough to show up to the shindig, pulled the boy aside and gave him a firm talking to.

 I was furious. I knew that it was only a matter of time before Frank and I parted and went our separate ways. He had been accepted at a very small school out in California and I was staying In-State. He was about to leave on a month long trip around the U.S. Whether he liked to admit it or not, our relationship was coming to a close. Now, I’m all for long distant relationships but not when the relationship is troubled when you’re living twenty minutes away from each other.

I waited as long as possible before doing the inevitable. Unfortunately I could only wait so long before I started getting annoyed by the constant complaint phone calls. I felt awful for drawing the line while he was on his solo trip but I couldn’t go through the motions of the relationship anymore. I put my foot down and out an end to the eight month relationship. I was upset once it was done. I was upset at myself for hurting someone I cared about. It was the first time I had broken someone’s heart.

First Class Frank: Part Two

All in all, the first date with First Class Frank was pretty standard for a high school. He picked me up and we went to dinner. We rented a movie (a very serious movie, Crash) and went back to his house to watch it. Of course in high school this means I met his parents. This meet and greet went much better than meeting Mr. Granola’s parents.

Watching Crash as a first date movie was strange. I don’t recommend it to anyone. It’s strangeness increased by being the movie that was on during our first kiss. Yes, Frank was forward and for some reason it didn’t bother me. After that kiss, the courtship was over. He became my boyfriend very quickly without any questions asked.

First Class Frank and I had a few good months. We had fun together. Everything moved a lot faster the second time around. But of course, with the increased speed of the relationship, there was also a lot more drama.

I was lucky to live in the “party” house in high school. My mom let me and my friends drink as long as no body left. To top it off, they didn’t mind if we smoked. They thought the hooka was funny and would sit out side with us talking and telling stories of when they were our age. So when I offered to host the St. Patty’s day party for my group of friends, the obvious answers was yes. The party was amazing! It was so much fun. I loved having all my friends there and having First Class Frank there with them. That was the problem though, Frank wanted to have ever ounce of my attention, which is difficult while I was hosting the party. Yes, I can multitask but I can only do so much. But he prevailed. And how, you may ask, did he successfully manage to win 100% of my attention? Well that’s simple, by crying. He threw the biggest temper tantrum and started to cry. Needless to say, my perfect Martha-Stewart-esque party was ruined. People left because no one was drinking. No one was drinking because they all knew I was upset. Once everyone left the party, Frank and I talked.

At this point in the night I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. I was done with this relationship. I had much more important things to worry about during my senior year of high school. But Frank talked his way back into my heart. After our blow up fight, I found a hand drawn picture-note thing behind my picture frame on my bed side table. He called me a few minutes later and I apologized and he did too. This would be the first of a never ending series of fights and long winded make-up sessions.

It was this early in our relationship that I first toyed with the idea of worth. Was it worth it, all the drama, and tears, for a relationship that had just been formed? I didn’t love him yet, even though I knew he loved me. I knew because he told me and it was one of the most awkward conversations I’ve had still to this day. Frank and I were lying in his bed. He gazed at me. I loved the way he looked at me. I always felt pretty and I always knew he genuinely cared about me. Then he ruined the beautiful moment by dropping the bomb. The “L-Bomb” that is. I wasn’t anywhere near expecting it. It had only been a few weeks. I just smiled and kissed him, hoping it would just go away if ignored. I didn’t want to be the girl who said “Thank you” and I didn’t want to tell him I didn’t love him. So what was I supposed to do? Well, Frank wasn’t so couth; this would not be a First Class moment. He looked at me and asked, “Well, don’t you love me?”

 It took me a few months to be able to say it back and even then I don’t know why I said it when I did. I knew I cared about him but now, deep down I don’t think it was love, at least not then. I know what you’re thinking. What kind of girl fake says “I love you”? Well my mother explained to me once that there are many different kind of love. You never love someone the same way you love someone else. Each love is as unique as the relationship. It was at the time that I just assumed this was the love I felt towards Frank. It wasn’t bad; it just wasn’t as strong as my love had been towards Mr. Granola. That’s how first loves go. They always ruin the rest…

Anyways, I was outside my house; Frank had just dropped me off after a date and he decided to try again with the whole “I love you” thing. Maybe it was because I felt guilty about not saying it the first time, or perhaps I was trying to avoid yet another conversation, or maybe I really did, in that moment think I loved him, but whichever the case I said back to him.

Everything between us was rocky from St. Patrick’s Day on. Prom came and went just as quickly as the year before. The only real difference was there were two of them to go to this year because First Class Frank went to another school. I got my dresses months in advanced, as to prevent any duplicates, and scheduled my hair appointments. One of the dresses had to be totally re-altered because it was two sizes too big. My prom was first. Everything was planned out and I prepped, waxed, tweezed, and crammed myself into the dress. I was so nervous and just wanted the pre prom pictures to turn out well. Frank was running late and when he finally got to my house, he ran to the bathroom. When he came out he looked at me, smiled and said “ok let’s go.”  We took our pictures and got in his car.

What happened next could have been a total over reaction but as far as I’m concerned no girl should EVER have to dig for complements, especially from their boyfriends and on the night of Prom. Of all people, Frank knew how much work it took to get me to look that good and he never once complimented me. I wasn’t looking for a soul searching, declaration of love and adoration. No, I was just looking for a simple “Oh you look so nice.” A compliment is something that is so small and should be almost involuntary. I made a point of telling him how handsome he looked first thing when he walked into the house.  Well, you can only imagine that he heard about what he had done (actually more like what he hadn’t done), all night.

Oh it was a tense night, not quite as intense as when he did it AGAIN for his own prom. That one was even worst because he made a point of telling all of his girl friends how nice they looked. Unbelievable. And he wanted me to try to sneak in and spend the night at his place while his parents were home? Hell no, that was not happening.

First Class Frank: Part One

It was my friend, Elizabeth ’s birthday and she was having a boy/girl sleepover. It was a very exclusive party and I was excited to have gotten an invite. Especially because Elizabeth and I were on again/off again recently. But I made it and so far it wasn’t too bad.

 There was a guy there who I’d never met before. He didn’t go to our high school but I’d heard about him. He went to a private school and we had a few good mutual friends. I wasn’t quite sure how they knew each other and actually, I’m still not really sure. For the purposes of our story we will call him First Class Frank and you will see why if you keep reading.

The group decided to go to Blockbusters to get a movie. I was divided into a car with my best guy friend, Stephan, and First Class Frank. Obviously, First Class Frank had a first class car. It was his pride and joy, and Stephan wanted to drive it. So we took the long route to Blockbuster. I sat in the back grabbing the door handle for dear life as we zoomed in and out of all the back road curves.

By the time we got to Blockbuster, everyone else (who had arrived 15 minutes earlier) had picked out the movie and was ready to check out. So we left. It wasn’t until we were back in the parking lot that I realized First Class Frank was flirting with me. He opened the car door for me. It was such a simple gesture but it meant so much.

We got back to the house and started watching the movie. I got bored by it and went to the kitchen to grab some food. Frank followed. We sat in the kitchen and talked for an hour or so. He was nice and it was obvious he was interested in me.

 But then it got serious. Our late night food raid was interrupted by Paige. Stephan locked himself in the bathroom, crying, which meant I was needed. By the time I got there, Stephan had moved to the office. He had tears streaming down his face. He looked up at me, his phone clutched in his hand. He managed to get some words out of his mouth, “Diane’s been raped.”

Diane was one of my best friends who didn’t get an invite to the party. She and a few other people had made their way to a local college campus. Alcohol had been had and she woke up to find a guy on top of her. Stephen and I decided to go pick her up and bring her to the Emergency Room.

We ran out the door with little goodbyes. The people who needed to know we left knew but didn’t know why. I gave Frank a hug and thanked him for the kitchen company and left.

 Diane was as okay as anyone could be after a situation like that. I hate to mention something so serious in a collection of stories that are so funny but it was a huge event in my life. We had to lie to the doctors so she could be seen and gave the police a report of what we knew. I had never been so scared about the well being of another before. Diane had to be forced to go to the hospital, I felt terrible about it but all of us wanted to know she was alright. She would be, and her story is a happy one now. 

So, enough with the serious stuff.

The next day, I got a call from Frank. He had gotten my number from Paige at the party. He wanted to ask me out. I said yes.