Tag Archives: porch

A First I Hadn’t Expected

It’s a scene that you see everywhere. It’s very cliche, really. In countless movies.

A guy walking a girl to her front door.

I just went on a spontaneous run to Taco Bell with a guy friend of mine. He had made it clear that it wasn’t a date when he asked me to go. That didn’t really matter to me (I meant that as it wouldn’t have kept me from going, not that I’m apathetic about the subject). Anyway, a lot of the night was basically a history of his previous relationships and “love-life” and girls and all that. Don’t get me wrong, it was really understandable with him. I’m not complaining. We had a really great conversation. A lot of fun.

But my self confidence hasn’t been helped by the last couple times I’ve spent hanging out with guys. Any time the subject comes up of something they find attractive in a girl or what they like, etc, it’s the complete opposite of me. Dark hair, curly hair, really long hair, thin, dark skin, red hair, petite. Those are ALL things I’ve heard from guys lately about what they like in girls and I can match up each one to which guy said it. And no matter how good I try to look (and feel) before I hang out with a/some guy friend/s, I always end up feeling like they don’t find me attractive at all. By talking about all that about what they find attractive in a girl, and that’s all not me, right in front of me, are they trying to send the message that they find me ugly or unattractive? Probably not, but after an entire day at the mall and such, I feel pretty worn down.

Anyway, we basically get asked to leave Taco Bell because we had stayed and talked for so long. The night had gone surprisingly well. I had been slightly apprehensive about the awkward/feeling embarrassed factor. But all had gone fine and we pulled into my drive way. I wasn’t sure if we were going to do a side-hug deal in the car, but he saved me the worry by opening his door. I got out and walked around to his side. But because of the way he had parked, I rethought. I mumbled something about “we probably shouldn’t hug in the middle of the road” and he replied with something about walking me to my door.


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Weather Fit For The Occasion.

     At almost this same time last year, on a Monday, I was sitting on the porch of my boyfriend-at-the-time. I was sitting on the cold, cement steps, in an oversized hoodie. His arm was round me and my hair was simply and carelessly pulled back. I had on little make up because most of it had been cried away earlier that morning. It was raining and dreary – appropriate weather for the most recent, tragic happenings.

     The Friday before was a regular school day. I had survived my first hour class, Honors English, and had routinely sang through second-hour Chorale. Lunch was as boring and uninteresting as it usually was. I had, again, not brought anything to eat and had, again, half-intentionally, not brought money to buy food. My table consisted of a few girls and fewer guys, all of whom I currently or previously shared choir with, except for one girl, who I met during the musical of the last school year. Three guys and four girls at my table, usually.

     Two of the girls were inseparable – they still are. They were both energetic and loved everything Disney and musicals. The girl I had met in the last school musical had red hair and played the piano. One guy had moved to America from Mexico before his sophomore year. I had met him the year before. Another was a boy I had gone to homecoming of freshman year “with.” Both were in Chorale. One boy was a freshman (who had come into the high school from the same middle school as I had attended), a bass in my choir, and the quietest one at the table. None of us really went out of our way to talk to him, but it wasn’t as if we ignored him or shunned him in any way. For the preceding couple weeks, he had offered to share a part of his lunch or had offered me a dollar or two. That Friday was no exception. He offered me some of his meal, consisting of a bag of chips, a carton of milk, and a burrito. Not particularly being a fan of any of those, I declined gratefully.

     The rest of that day was normal and uneventful. Or, rather, I assume it was uneventful because I don’t particularly remember anything else happening that day, or even the next. On Sunday, the speaker at my church (which was half an hour away from my home) had commented on the death of two local boys that had died in  a car crash. He named them and, at the time, it didn’t cause any bells to ring or any lit light bulbs to appear above my head. When I got home, I checked my Myspace (as I did religiously). When I looked in the bulletin space, I saw bulletin after bulletin entitled “Tim, we will miss you” and “Tim and Josh” and, finally, “RIP Tim and Josh.”

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