Let a...Well, You Know.
Author's Note: what you are about to read is a draft that I am publishing after 9+ years on ice. I have not taken the time to complete it, so you have my leave to think of it as my 'Dead Souls' of blogging.
I believe that a fair few of you may be somewhat familiar with an American film classic called "My Fair Lady." A fine movie. Damn fine.
I could spend a paragraph trying to explain and make excuses for why I have not written in so long, but I will let Rex Harrison do that for me. If you really need an explanation, his character has a fine little song staged in his library about halfway through the film that says it all. Trust me, you will know it when you hear it.
In truth, I have come back to my blog a dozen times since the last piece I completed, and each time got part way through, only to be drawn away by some distraction.
My distraction has become increasingly insistent of late that I should get back to writing something. Since these instructions are normally delivered while snuggled up on the couch or while we are out, I have thus far found them fairly easy to ignore. Tonight, however, they were delivered while she was working. What is more, working in a coffee shop where the proprietress appears to have forgotten what the heater is for. Rather than stay and make eyes at her, I decided to take to my keyboard and finish some of my incomplete blog posts from the past couple months.
As I went back over the unfinished drafts, I was repeatedly shocked and offended by the various references to my 'girlfriend.' Struck by how behind the times the author of those pieces was, I resolved to write a letter to the editor. However, finding no contact information available for past Patrick, I am forced to write myself and set the record straight.
But first let me meander wildly through my memories.
I have known Emma since we moved to Fort Wayne over a decade ago. She was Pastor's daughter. The cute, funny, quirky, quiet (it's ok, I laughed too), sister of Thomas. Thomas, who was always eager to make sure Winston and I understood that she was kind of weird. As it was, Emma was a person of whom I was peripherally aware and kind of knew, but who I never talked to that much.
I really started to get to know Emma a little over two years ago. It was the pure action of divine providence, coupled with the contrivance of her dear parents.
At her parents very warm suggestion, Emma started taking G319, or German Skills II. As it happened, I also was taking that class. Who you sit by in class the first day is very important; at least for me, especially in German, because those people you sit next to the first time tend to be your neighbors for the rest of the semester. I was early to class, as I normally was in those days, and I was just getting acquainted with the two gentlemen on my right--the excellent Mr. Tyler Davis and Mr. Kyle Brown, who would be my constant comrades through the rest of my German Major--when Emma walked in. As fortune would have it, the seat to the left of me was open, and I was the only person in the room who she knew, so she could either come sit next to me for the next 16 weeks, or else appear completely anti-social. Although her eyes might have darted to a seat in the far corner, she ultimately shifted to the chair beside me.
There were clear bonuses for me in this arrangement. In the first place, I was sitting next to someone that I was comfortable with. Not only that, but she was really cute, and I knew she wasn't going to be obnoxious or anything. Win. Win. Win.
Even then, with sixteen weeks of class together, we still didn't spend much time outside of class that semester. Even in class, Emma was not quite the Emma I got to know later. Like most of us, she was wrestling with some pretty tough readings and writing assignments every class, so making a peep might have been taken as a sign of willingness to spearhead discussion. Silence was far safer. In addition, that class was like 25 people, all sitting in a semi-circle. Any time that you started talking you knew that your words were for the whole class to hear.
Just a little bit to my surprise, Emma told me that she was coming back for seconds that spring semester, and that she was going to be taking German lit with us. This class started much smaller than the last class, with no more than 12 to begin with, which would gradually dwindle down to 6-7. Once again, Emma and I were sitting next to each other, and this time it was a much more comfortable, smaller, group, and it was easier to talk. And it was during the course of those few months that I started to figure out how smart and funny she was, not to mention how beautiful she had become.
One very cold, wet, day in late March/early April instead of going in our opposite directions after class, I realized I had some extra time and decided to walk Emma to her next class. Emma had just given a presentation on Die Blechtrommel, and I had enjoyed it more than any other presentation of my school career so far. I would try to explain the story to you, but you should get it from her; it will be way better. Wowed by her way with words and gift for charades, I walked with her to talk about her topic; to enjoy her company. We got to the doors to find that it was raining fairly steadily. She was just wearing a hoodie, and I had a raincoat, so naturally I did the only thing I could, and let her have my jacket and walked her to her next class. On the way over we talked about her presentation and the trippy book that she did it on, and when we got to the end of our walk to the science building, I realized that it was looking like it would rain all night, and that, even though I had a long walk back to the car, I would weather it well enough. Emma, however, doe not do great with being wet and cold.
I told her to keep my coat for the rest of the night. On the one hand, I did knowing that it would make her more comfortable and keep her warm and dry. On the other hand, I also knew that she would have to bring it back to me eventually.
You can only imagine my disappointment when she waited until after I was out of the house to bring it back.
Nonetheless, despite my plan to make sure I saw her the next day falling flat, from that time we started texting regularly. If not daily, then pretty close to it.
Things continued to progress in a painfully slow manner, not that anything different should be expected. Let me break this down. This was the younger sister of one of my good friends. Not only was she younger, but she was also one of Andrew's circle of friends. It is funny to think, we just had a party tonight, and most of the people who were there thought Emma was going to end up with Andrew. I was one of them 3 years ago. I was just figuring out that I was interested in Emma, and so I was proceeding with something beyond extreme caution. It seemed super unlikely, but I was figuring out that, in addition to being that special combination of cute and strikingly pretty, she was also smart and funny. Actually, I was gradually discovering that I hadn't known anyone I found as interesting and attractive as her.
We made it all the way to the end of the semester before I managed to ask her out on a date.
Our first date would have been on June 1st. We went to Toscani's, went for a walk downtown, and stopped in for about a half hour of the year's first installment of rock the plaza. The second date I felt like I outdid myself in flexing my indie-hipster cred by taking her to an excellent bit of street performance. We went downtown to the Barr Street Market for a presentation by the Hope Arthur Orchestra. After all, Emma was obviously a bit of a hipster, and this seemed like exactly the place to take a cool hipster girl. Having heard Hope before, I expected it to be good. I also expected it to be cool and kind of funky; it did not disappoint. But even then, I wasn't quite sure it was working out.
We hung out a couple more times, but then she told me that she enjoyed hanging out with me, but that she would rather just be friends.
Ouch.
And I think I do have to repeat. Ouch.
That was not my favourite thing that I had ever heard...or been texted, in this case. But I had known it was coming. At the end of that brief first period that we were dating, I could tell that she was starting to avoid me, and so I was braced for it when it came. I can think back on one time when I went to Starbuck's, and unlike every time in the past, she kind of went out of the way to avoid my eyes and the final look she did give me before I returned to me car.. I knew what was coming then, and was not surprised by her answer the next time I asked her out.
It still wasn't pleasant.
Nonetheless. I liked Emma as a person, and was convinced that I wasn't going to let my disappointment spoil the nascent friendship we had built. If Emma wanted me to be her friend, and nothing more, then I could be that. I would be.
In the meantime, I no longer had class with Emma, which was unfortunate, because I missed having Emma in class. On the other hand, it was probably for the best. The little bit of distance would make things simpler. Getting over the idea of someone is easier when you do not have to sit next to them for an hour every couple days. So it would be good that we were out of each others hair.
Ha. Yeah Right.
In case you have forgotten, we are not only talking about the figurative girl next door. We are seriously talking about the literal girl next door as well. This did not make forgetting Emma impossible, but it did add a significant challenge. Bumping into Emma was still a risk every day. And let's face it; she was still the sweet, beautiful, funny girl I wound up smitten with in the first place.
It was a little while til we just hung out again. You could imagine how uncomfortable it could have been right afterwards. So once enough time had passed for it not to be super awkward, we decided to
go see a movie. The movie I really wanted to see was Joss Whedon's Much Ado About Nothing.
Are you laughing yet? You should be.
Completely oblivious, I had chosen to go see a romantic comedy with the girl who had just friend zoned me. I tried to the greatest of my abilities to play it cool, but I had realized about ten minutes in that I had made a really awkward choice. It was probably the best movie in theaters at the time, but the timing was a little off. I spent most of the movie feeling vaguely uncomfortable, mostly because I was trying to use this opportunity to prove that we could do things as friends without it having any romantic connotations. We could just go and watch a movie. Ha. Ha. Ha.
Despite my poor choice of movies, we did keep texting and hanging out from time to time. And as the fall wore on, I got more comfortable with the whole friends thing.
Now that I think of it, this whole "just friends" idea is a massive crock of something pungent. There is nothing wrong with having a solid relationship with someone outside of romantic interest. "Just friends" feels like it grossly undervalues the friendship. I was accepting that we were not an item, and that we would not be. I obviously did not expect to be a friend of Corinne proportions, but I still thought it was fun to hang out and chat. I found myself trying to strike a balance between being friendly and trying not to make her uncomfortable. That might sound silly, but she had made a decision, and I wanted to respect it. So. Friends it was. But not tooooo friendly.
(BTWs: I would have you all know that she did think I was no longer interested at that point. I will take my cookie and master-of-subterfuge badge now.)
In the meantime, Emma continued to introduce me to the very best of indie music, Breaking Bad, Wes Anderson, and Reddit. Haters would say that she was trying to turn me into a hipster. But, hey, they gon' hate. I call it expanding my horizons.
It was hard to keep up my elan, my semblance of affable disinterest, as Christmas approached and I found myself shopping for a gift for Emma. This may sound like a small thing, but I was left with the daunting task of choosing a gift that did not seem personal, or romantic, or laden with messages, but that still was not incredibly lame. There is an entire segment of our retail industry that I would term "things men buy for women." I could not get any of those things. There is an even larger assortment of items which fall under the "so lame I weep for humanity" category. I could not get one of those either. In the end, I decided it was safest to go with the "fun things girls get for girls" category, so I got her some cute nailpolish, and gloves (because she said she needed them.) I congratulated myself on dodging a bullet.
And in case you were wondering, Emma got me some awesome Wes Anderson movies.
We started talking a lot more after Christmas. In January we hatched a plan to see Grand Budapest Hotel when it was released early at the little art house movie theaters. Problem: there was not a showing anywhere near by. We were going to have to go to Chicago. I was pretty in to the idea. We planned the trip over the next month, speculating on all the things we could do and see; sending a crazy number of text messages per day. We were good at wild speculation.
But it wasn't that simple. We obviously could not go alone. Not only would it turn her poor father grey, but it just would not do! Of all the improprieties! No, we needed people to go with us. Our first brilliant idea was to have Corinne go with. Corinne would be fun in Chicago, and would probably appreciate the kinds of places we were going. At first she was a tentative yes, but she later had schedule conflicts, and soon it began to look like our trip was slipping away. In order to salvage the trip, I did the noble thing and volunteered Andrew to go with us. I would have liked Jonathan and Andrew both, but the former was busy, so the latter alone would have to do.
So it was decided. Andrew gladly accepted, and our trip was set to commence.
We got up early the morning we were scheduled to leave. We had Amtrak Tickets that were for a train that left at 5:30 for Chicago. We got out to the car and were on our way to the station, when we figured out the train was projected to be two hours late. We turned around toward home, slightly miffed, but still looking forward to the journey that lay ahead. There were a couple more revisions, but we finally set out again, planning to get to Waterloo Station by the noon boarding time. We were almost there, when I got another call. This call was to tell me it would be at least a couple more hours. Amtrak had delayed our train by 6:30 hours at this point, and who knew how much longer it would be. We scrapped our plans to go by train and decided to drive.
Emma and I talked almost the whole way up to Chicago. This was the most we had talked. Ever. So the drive passed by smoothly.
Ok, so maybe that is not true.
So I made a wrong tun before we had even left Fort Wayne. Instead of the interstate, we had gone about 10 minutes in the wrong direction. It was decided at this point that Andrew would function as our navigator for the remainder of the trip. This seemed like an excellent idea, until we got to the south side of Chicago. Now, I don't want to say that Andrew is a bad navigator. He steered us right most of the way. However. Again I say: however, when you are in that clutch situation and people are yelling "right or left," whichever way Andrew says, go the other.
So, there we were, approaching a fork on the south side, and Andrew said, "you need to get over and take a right here." I say, "are you sure." Andrew then responded that he wasn't. I told him we were almost out of space and that I needed an answer. He told me to go right. South. On Martin Luther King Drive. About three seconds after I had taken the drive he told me has was mistaken; we should have stayed left.
So there we were, tooling through the hood, finding our way back to the highway, driving past the projects. We were on a real adventure.
Finally we righted things and got to our destination in downtown Chicago. We parked beneath Millennium park, and wended our way up past cloud gate, and came to our first stop: The Art Institute. The art was incredible; the people watching, almost as good (the clothes were great). It soon became clear that Andrew had decided that he was playing the part of the match maker. Any time Emma and I turned to look for him, he had mysteriously dropped 15 feet behind. I was a little miffed at first, in part because it was so terribly obvious what he was doing, but also because he is so much fun. I think we spent the most time in the Ancient Art exhibits. Viewing art with Emma was quite the experience. She was always seeing the strangest things in the pieces, and commented on every piece of jewelry whether or not she would wear it. She was the most likely to wear the earrings, it seemed.
We finished at the Art Institute and made our way toward the L, which was going to get us all the way up to our little theater on the Near North Side. It was a little nippy, so we were moving pretty quick. We got off at our stop and decided to go find something to eat, because we were all starving and our phones were dying. We found a little pizza place to get some food, charge our phones, and restore what spirits we had lost to the chilly winter winds. We left the pizza place and made for the theater. When we got there, it proved interesting architecturally, but not as picturesque as one might have hoped. By the time we got to the auditorium it was packed with the scions and mavens of high hipsterdom. We ended up sitting in the very front. Not the best seats, but nothing had gone terribly smoothly on the trip to this point, so I was happy to have made it there at all.
After the Movie, we started our walk back to the L. However, right around the corner from the theater was a Trader Joe's, and Emma wanted to stop there first. We got root beer and drank it as we walked back to the train through the somewhat artsy neighborhood. The walk was actually one of my favorite parts of the trip. When we finally got back to the station and were waiting on the train, I think we were all more than a little tired. Standing out there in the cold night air, it hit me again how much I liked spending time with Emma. That, combined with how lovely she looked that evening (I am nly human, after all), was making me reevaluate my commitment to the "just friends" mantra.
Emma and I spent the return journey on the L speaking German, by which I obviously mean power flirting. We made it back downtown to Millennium Park and stopped by Cloud Gate to take scads of selfies now that all of those obnoxious tourists were out of the way. We got some interesting pictures, and had fun taking them. We were exhausted by the time we got back to my Vati's apartment. He made us comfortable for the evening, and we chatted for a little bit, but then we pretty much crashed.
The next day we made our way back to Fort Wayne, with the exception of one little detour. The last stop of our little Chicago trip was to go to Ikea. We had other shopping stops that we intended to make, like Anthropologie, but those had been cut out because of all the time lost from the train fiasco. We were not going to let the trip to Ikea go. And it was on the way back anyway. We would have been crazy to let it slip by. We got to Ikea and went right up to the showroom where all little rooms are made up. I think we were on the third one when Emma made some offhand comment about whether I thought something would go in our house? The comment was clearly made in jest, but we spent the rest of the time in the show room playing that we were seriously considering these designs for our house. It was a good game.
We got back from Chicago, and I very nearly asked her out, but in my silliness I had somehow become convinced that I could only ask her out again if I had the blatant ok from her. Plus, it was still the middle of the semester; better if I could focus on school. I did not want to turn into the Pepe Le-Pew of this scenario, doggedly pursuing a haggard Emcat. I decided to play it cool and wait to see if she was definitely interested.
In a way, I think Chicago was a very important catalyst for us. The trip was a little bumpy and had a mixture of both good and bad, but we had fun and spent some serious time talking. We started running into each other a lot more after Chicago.
Following our pattern for awkward movie selection, we went to see Her right after we got back. While last time we had decided to watch a romantic comedy, this time we had elected a quirky romantic drama about obsessive infatuation. It was really good, but by the end of it I was swearing off movies about love forever, or at least while I was with the girl I was not dating. Still, it was fun, and I kind of wished that it was a date.
We also started to run into each other more on campus, through complete innocent chance, I assure you. I am a creature of habit, and I normally try to form those habits which I find most conducive to my happiness. As it happened, I was starting to form the habit of hanging out in places where I was fairly certain I would bump into Emma, and it seemed like she had done something similar. One particular Thursday toward the end of the semester really stands out in my mind. It seemed like every time I was on the way to class, she was there, and every time she was on the way to class I was there. And at the time I was asking myself why it could not have been like that all semester? The thing I remember most vividly about that day, however, was nothing to do with us exactly, but a picture of this creepy moth she showed me that had these freaky head tentacles that it used to attract the ladies. I'm not 100% sure why that day always pops up in my mind when I think back over our relationship, but it does. It has somehow attained great importance in my mind.
In late April, after some other stuff had happened--the curious may ask Emma to tell them about the bonfire--Emma and I decided to go and see GBH again at the Cinema Center. After the movie ended we both discovered that we were hungry. During the movie, another guy had texted Emma to ask if she wanted to get Pint and Slice with him--I nearly had a stroke at that point--so she had pizza on the brain. Although, pizza on the brain is a fairly normal thing for Emma. It was too late to meet him there (sucks to suck!), but we decided to go ahead and go anyway. After we had eaten our pizza, we headed back and just sat out in Front of Emma's and talked for the next three hours or so. It was crazy. It felt like no time had passed, but all the sudden I had to go get Andrew. I really did not want to go, but I couldn't just leave him at work. I left her grudgingly to go get him. 2/3 of the way there I got a call telling me he was already home; they had just forgotten to tell me they had changed plans.
I was most seriously displeased.
I got another chance to spend some time with Emma a little more than a week later. A new coffee shop, Fortezza, had opened downtown, and we had agreed that we would have to go there and try it together. We met there one afternoon before I had to head to work. I thought we would just go and get a cup of coffee and hang out for an hour or so. We were there for about three hours, and I still wasn't ready to go when it was time to leave for work. Even though my car was closer to the Cafe than Emma's, I gladly accepted her offer to drive me back to where I was parked. As her car started up we joked about how we should skip out on work and just take off for Chicago again. I can't remember if it was there in the car, but do remember that was the day that I asked Emma if she would go out with me again. She agreed. Whether it was before or after my shift, I don't remember, but I do remember being in an absurdly good mood at work, even though we were preparing for a corporate visit. I stood there, grinning at the wall as I folded denim.
It was over a week before we finally made it out on that date, mostly because retail schedules suck. We went on a picnic to headwaters park. I did everything in my significant powers to make sure that it was as pretty a picnic as humanly possible; I packed a delicious light lunch in the old wicker basket, along with cloth napkins, cute plates, a table cloth, drinks, fresh flowers and a vase, and most of the silverware that we needed to be able to eat lunch. I went over to get Emma, and she of course came out looking adorable.
And ooh doggies was I nervous.
I don't think I showed it though, and we made our way out to headwaters park. It was a radiant day, with just a little bit of a breeze. The trees were still flowering and the grass was soft and fragrant. We made our place in a peaceful spot about 20 feet off the path.
Here the author stopped.
I believe that a fair few of you may be somewhat familiar with an American film classic called "My Fair Lady." A fine movie. Damn fine.
I could spend a paragraph trying to explain and make excuses for why I have not written in so long, but I will let Rex Harrison do that for me. If you really need an explanation, his character has a fine little song staged in his library about halfway through the film that says it all. Trust me, you will know it when you hear it.
In truth, I have come back to my blog a dozen times since the last piece I completed, and each time got part way through, only to be drawn away by some distraction.
My distraction has become increasingly insistent of late that I should get back to writing something. Since these instructions are normally delivered while snuggled up on the couch or while we are out, I have thus far found them fairly easy to ignore. Tonight, however, they were delivered while she was working. What is more, working in a coffee shop where the proprietress appears to have forgotten what the heater is for. Rather than stay and make eyes at her, I decided to take to my keyboard and finish some of my incomplete blog posts from the past couple months.
As I went back over the unfinished drafts, I was repeatedly shocked and offended by the various references to my 'girlfriend.' Struck by how behind the times the author of those pieces was, I resolved to write a letter to the editor. However, finding no contact information available for past Patrick, I am forced to write myself and set the record straight.
But first let me meander wildly through my memories.
I have known Emma since we moved to Fort Wayne over a decade ago. She was Pastor's daughter. The cute, funny, quirky, quiet (it's ok, I laughed too), sister of Thomas. Thomas, who was always eager to make sure Winston and I understood that she was kind of weird. As it was, Emma was a person of whom I was peripherally aware and kind of knew, but who I never talked to that much.
I really started to get to know Emma a little over two years ago. It was the pure action of divine providence, coupled with the contrivance of her dear parents.
At her parents very warm suggestion, Emma started taking G319, or German Skills II. As it happened, I also was taking that class. Who you sit by in class the first day is very important; at least for me, especially in German, because those people you sit next to the first time tend to be your neighbors for the rest of the semester. I was early to class, as I normally was in those days, and I was just getting acquainted with the two gentlemen on my right--the excellent Mr. Tyler Davis and Mr. Kyle Brown, who would be my constant comrades through the rest of my German Major--when Emma walked in. As fortune would have it, the seat to the left of me was open, and I was the only person in the room who she knew, so she could either come sit next to me for the next 16 weeks, or else appear completely anti-social. Although her eyes might have darted to a seat in the far corner, she ultimately shifted to the chair beside me.
There were clear bonuses for me in this arrangement. In the first place, I was sitting next to someone that I was comfortable with. Not only that, but she was really cute, and I knew she wasn't going to be obnoxious or anything. Win. Win. Win.
Even then, with sixteen weeks of class together, we still didn't spend much time outside of class that semester. Even in class, Emma was not quite the Emma I got to know later. Like most of us, she was wrestling with some pretty tough readings and writing assignments every class, so making a peep might have been taken as a sign of willingness to spearhead discussion. Silence was far safer. In addition, that class was like 25 people, all sitting in a semi-circle. Any time that you started talking you knew that your words were for the whole class to hear.
Just a little bit to my surprise, Emma told me that she was coming back for seconds that spring semester, and that she was going to be taking German lit with us. This class started much smaller than the last class, with no more than 12 to begin with, which would gradually dwindle down to 6-7. Once again, Emma and I were sitting next to each other, and this time it was a much more comfortable, smaller, group, and it was easier to talk. And it was during the course of those few months that I started to figure out how smart and funny she was, not to mention how beautiful she had become.
One very cold, wet, day in late March/early April instead of going in our opposite directions after class, I realized I had some extra time and decided to walk Emma to her next class. Emma had just given a presentation on Die Blechtrommel, and I had enjoyed it more than any other presentation of my school career so far. I would try to explain the story to you, but you should get it from her; it will be way better. Wowed by her way with words and gift for charades, I walked with her to talk about her topic; to enjoy her company. We got to the doors to find that it was raining fairly steadily. She was just wearing a hoodie, and I had a raincoat, so naturally I did the only thing I could, and let her have my jacket and walked her to her next class. On the way over we talked about her presentation and the trippy book that she did it on, and when we got to the end of our walk to the science building, I realized that it was looking like it would rain all night, and that, even though I had a long walk back to the car, I would weather it well enough. Emma, however, doe not do great with being wet and cold.
I told her to keep my coat for the rest of the night. On the one hand, I did knowing that it would make her more comfortable and keep her warm and dry. On the other hand, I also knew that she would have to bring it back to me eventually.
You can only imagine my disappointment when she waited until after I was out of the house to bring it back.
Nonetheless, despite my plan to make sure I saw her the next day falling flat, from that time we started texting regularly. If not daily, then pretty close to it.
Things continued to progress in a painfully slow manner, not that anything different should be expected. Let me break this down. This was the younger sister of one of my good friends. Not only was she younger, but she was also one of Andrew's circle of friends. It is funny to think, we just had a party tonight, and most of the people who were there thought Emma was going to end up with Andrew. I was one of them 3 years ago. I was just figuring out that I was interested in Emma, and so I was proceeding with something beyond extreme caution. It seemed super unlikely, but I was figuring out that, in addition to being that special combination of cute and strikingly pretty, she was also smart and funny. Actually, I was gradually discovering that I hadn't known anyone I found as interesting and attractive as her.
We made it all the way to the end of the semester before I managed to ask her out on a date.
Our first date would have been on June 1st. We went to Toscani's, went for a walk downtown, and stopped in for about a half hour of the year's first installment of rock the plaza. The second date I felt like I outdid myself in flexing my indie-hipster cred by taking her to an excellent bit of street performance. We went downtown to the Barr Street Market for a presentation by the Hope Arthur Orchestra. After all, Emma was obviously a bit of a hipster, and this seemed like exactly the place to take a cool hipster girl. Having heard Hope before, I expected it to be good. I also expected it to be cool and kind of funky; it did not disappoint. But even then, I wasn't quite sure it was working out.
We hung out a couple more times, but then she told me that she enjoyed hanging out with me, but that she would rather just be friends.
Ouch.
And I think I do have to repeat. Ouch.
That was not my favourite thing that I had ever heard...or been texted, in this case. But I had known it was coming. At the end of that brief first period that we were dating, I could tell that she was starting to avoid me, and so I was braced for it when it came. I can think back on one time when I went to Starbuck's, and unlike every time in the past, she kind of went out of the way to avoid my eyes and the final look she did give me before I returned to me car.. I knew what was coming then, and was not surprised by her answer the next time I asked her out.
It still wasn't pleasant.
Nonetheless. I liked Emma as a person, and was convinced that I wasn't going to let my disappointment spoil the nascent friendship we had built. If Emma wanted me to be her friend, and nothing more, then I could be that. I would be.
In the meantime, I no longer had class with Emma, which was unfortunate, because I missed having Emma in class. On the other hand, it was probably for the best. The little bit of distance would make things simpler. Getting over the idea of someone is easier when you do not have to sit next to them for an hour every couple days. So it would be good that we were out of each others hair.
Ha. Yeah Right.
In case you have forgotten, we are not only talking about the figurative girl next door. We are seriously talking about the literal girl next door as well. This did not make forgetting Emma impossible, but it did add a significant challenge. Bumping into Emma was still a risk every day. And let's face it; she was still the sweet, beautiful, funny girl I wound up smitten with in the first place.
It was a little while til we just hung out again. You could imagine how uncomfortable it could have been right afterwards. So once enough time had passed for it not to be super awkward, we decided to
go see a movie. The movie I really wanted to see was Joss Whedon's Much Ado About Nothing.
Are you laughing yet? You should be.
Completely oblivious, I had chosen to go see a romantic comedy with the girl who had just friend zoned me. I tried to the greatest of my abilities to play it cool, but I had realized about ten minutes in that I had made a really awkward choice. It was probably the best movie in theaters at the time, but the timing was a little off. I spent most of the movie feeling vaguely uncomfortable, mostly because I was trying to use this opportunity to prove that we could do things as friends without it having any romantic connotations. We could just go and watch a movie. Ha. Ha. Ha.
Despite my poor choice of movies, we did keep texting and hanging out from time to time. And as the fall wore on, I got more comfortable with the whole friends thing.
Now that I think of it, this whole "just friends" idea is a massive crock of something pungent. There is nothing wrong with having a solid relationship with someone outside of romantic interest. "Just friends" feels like it grossly undervalues the friendship. I was accepting that we were not an item, and that we would not be. I obviously did not expect to be a friend of Corinne proportions, but I still thought it was fun to hang out and chat. I found myself trying to strike a balance between being friendly and trying not to make her uncomfortable. That might sound silly, but she had made a decision, and I wanted to respect it. So. Friends it was. But not tooooo friendly.
(BTWs: I would have you all know that she did think I was no longer interested at that point. I will take my cookie and master-of-subterfuge badge now.)
In the meantime, Emma continued to introduce me to the very best of indie music, Breaking Bad, Wes Anderson, and Reddit. Haters would say that she was trying to turn me into a hipster. But, hey, they gon' hate. I call it expanding my horizons.
It was hard to keep up my elan, my semblance of affable disinterest, as Christmas approached and I found myself shopping for a gift for Emma. This may sound like a small thing, but I was left with the daunting task of choosing a gift that did not seem personal, or romantic, or laden with messages, but that still was not incredibly lame. There is an entire segment of our retail industry that I would term "things men buy for women." I could not get any of those things. There is an even larger assortment of items which fall under the "so lame I weep for humanity" category. I could not get one of those either. In the end, I decided it was safest to go with the "fun things girls get for girls" category, so I got her some cute nailpolish, and gloves (because she said she needed them.) I congratulated myself on dodging a bullet.
And in case you were wondering, Emma got me some awesome Wes Anderson movies.
We started talking a lot more after Christmas. In January we hatched a plan to see Grand Budapest Hotel when it was released early at the little art house movie theaters. Problem: there was not a showing anywhere near by. We were going to have to go to Chicago. I was pretty in to the idea. We planned the trip over the next month, speculating on all the things we could do and see; sending a crazy number of text messages per day. We were good at wild speculation.
But it wasn't that simple. We obviously could not go alone. Not only would it turn her poor father grey, but it just would not do! Of all the improprieties! No, we needed people to go with us. Our first brilliant idea was to have Corinne go with. Corinne would be fun in Chicago, and would probably appreciate the kinds of places we were going. At first she was a tentative yes, but she later had schedule conflicts, and soon it began to look like our trip was slipping away. In order to salvage the trip, I did the noble thing and volunteered Andrew to go with us. I would have liked Jonathan and Andrew both, but the former was busy, so the latter alone would have to do.
So it was decided. Andrew gladly accepted, and our trip was set to commence.
We got up early the morning we were scheduled to leave. We had Amtrak Tickets that were for a train that left at 5:30 for Chicago. We got out to the car and were on our way to the station, when we figured out the train was projected to be two hours late. We turned around toward home, slightly miffed, but still looking forward to the journey that lay ahead. There were a couple more revisions, but we finally set out again, planning to get to Waterloo Station by the noon boarding time. We were almost there, when I got another call. This call was to tell me it would be at least a couple more hours. Amtrak had delayed our train by 6:30 hours at this point, and who knew how much longer it would be. We scrapped our plans to go by train and decided to drive.
Emma and I talked almost the whole way up to Chicago. This was the most we had talked. Ever. So the drive passed by smoothly.
Ok, so maybe that is not true.
So I made a wrong tun before we had even left Fort Wayne. Instead of the interstate, we had gone about 10 minutes in the wrong direction. It was decided at this point that Andrew would function as our navigator for the remainder of the trip. This seemed like an excellent idea, until we got to the south side of Chicago. Now, I don't want to say that Andrew is a bad navigator. He steered us right most of the way. However. Again I say: however, when you are in that clutch situation and people are yelling "right or left," whichever way Andrew says, go the other.
So, there we were, approaching a fork on the south side, and Andrew said, "you need to get over and take a right here." I say, "are you sure." Andrew then responded that he wasn't. I told him we were almost out of space and that I needed an answer. He told me to go right. South. On Martin Luther King Drive. About three seconds after I had taken the drive he told me has was mistaken; we should have stayed left.
So there we were, tooling through the hood, finding our way back to the highway, driving past the projects. We were on a real adventure.
Finally we righted things and got to our destination in downtown Chicago. We parked beneath Millennium park, and wended our way up past cloud gate, and came to our first stop: The Art Institute. The art was incredible; the people watching, almost as good (the clothes were great). It soon became clear that Andrew had decided that he was playing the part of the match maker. Any time Emma and I turned to look for him, he had mysteriously dropped 15 feet behind. I was a little miffed at first, in part because it was so terribly obvious what he was doing, but also because he is so much fun. I think we spent the most time in the Ancient Art exhibits. Viewing art with Emma was quite the experience. She was always seeing the strangest things in the pieces, and commented on every piece of jewelry whether or not she would wear it. She was the most likely to wear the earrings, it seemed.
We finished at the Art Institute and made our way toward the L, which was going to get us all the way up to our little theater on the Near North Side. It was a little nippy, so we were moving pretty quick. We got off at our stop and decided to go find something to eat, because we were all starving and our phones were dying. We found a little pizza place to get some food, charge our phones, and restore what spirits we had lost to the chilly winter winds. We left the pizza place and made for the theater. When we got there, it proved interesting architecturally, but not as picturesque as one might have hoped. By the time we got to the auditorium it was packed with the scions and mavens of high hipsterdom. We ended up sitting in the very front. Not the best seats, but nothing had gone terribly smoothly on the trip to this point, so I was happy to have made it there at all.
After the Movie, we started our walk back to the L. However, right around the corner from the theater was a Trader Joe's, and Emma wanted to stop there first. We got root beer and drank it as we walked back to the train through the somewhat artsy neighborhood. The walk was actually one of my favorite parts of the trip. When we finally got back to the station and were waiting on the train, I think we were all more than a little tired. Standing out there in the cold night air, it hit me again how much I liked spending time with Emma. That, combined with how lovely she looked that evening (I am nly human, after all), was making me reevaluate my commitment to the "just friends" mantra.
Emma and I spent the return journey on the L speaking German, by which I obviously mean power flirting. We made it back downtown to Millennium Park and stopped by Cloud Gate to take scads of selfies now that all of those obnoxious tourists were out of the way. We got some interesting pictures, and had fun taking them. We were exhausted by the time we got back to my Vati's apartment. He made us comfortable for the evening, and we chatted for a little bit, but then we pretty much crashed.
The next day we made our way back to Fort Wayne, with the exception of one little detour. The last stop of our little Chicago trip was to go to Ikea. We had other shopping stops that we intended to make, like Anthropologie, but those had been cut out because of all the time lost from the train fiasco. We were not going to let the trip to Ikea go. And it was on the way back anyway. We would have been crazy to let it slip by. We got to Ikea and went right up to the showroom where all little rooms are made up. I think we were on the third one when Emma made some offhand comment about whether I thought something would go in our house? The comment was clearly made in jest, but we spent the rest of the time in the show room playing that we were seriously considering these designs for our house. It was a good game.
We got back from Chicago, and I very nearly asked her out, but in my silliness I had somehow become convinced that I could only ask her out again if I had the blatant ok from her. Plus, it was still the middle of the semester; better if I could focus on school. I did not want to turn into the Pepe Le-Pew of this scenario, doggedly pursuing a haggard Emcat. I decided to play it cool and wait to see if she was definitely interested.
In a way, I think Chicago was a very important catalyst for us. The trip was a little bumpy and had a mixture of both good and bad, but we had fun and spent some serious time talking. We started running into each other a lot more after Chicago.
Following our pattern for awkward movie selection, we went to see Her right after we got back. While last time we had decided to watch a romantic comedy, this time we had elected a quirky romantic drama about obsessive infatuation. It was really good, but by the end of it I was swearing off movies about love forever, or at least while I was with the girl I was not dating. Still, it was fun, and I kind of wished that it was a date.
We also started to run into each other more on campus, through complete innocent chance, I assure you. I am a creature of habit, and I normally try to form those habits which I find most conducive to my happiness. As it happened, I was starting to form the habit of hanging out in places where I was fairly certain I would bump into Emma, and it seemed like she had done something similar. One particular Thursday toward the end of the semester really stands out in my mind. It seemed like every time I was on the way to class, she was there, and every time she was on the way to class I was there. And at the time I was asking myself why it could not have been like that all semester? The thing I remember most vividly about that day, however, was nothing to do with us exactly, but a picture of this creepy moth she showed me that had these freaky head tentacles that it used to attract the ladies. I'm not 100% sure why that day always pops up in my mind when I think back over our relationship, but it does. It has somehow attained great importance in my mind.
In late April, after some other stuff had happened--the curious may ask Emma to tell them about the bonfire--Emma and I decided to go and see GBH again at the Cinema Center. After the movie ended we both discovered that we were hungry. During the movie, another guy had texted Emma to ask if she wanted to get Pint and Slice with him--I nearly had a stroke at that point--so she had pizza on the brain. Although, pizza on the brain is a fairly normal thing for Emma. It was too late to meet him there (sucks to suck!), but we decided to go ahead and go anyway. After we had eaten our pizza, we headed back and just sat out in Front of Emma's and talked for the next three hours or so. It was crazy. It felt like no time had passed, but all the sudden I had to go get Andrew. I really did not want to go, but I couldn't just leave him at work. I left her grudgingly to go get him. 2/3 of the way there I got a call telling me he was already home; they had just forgotten to tell me they had changed plans.
I was most seriously displeased.
I got another chance to spend some time with Emma a little more than a week later. A new coffee shop, Fortezza, had opened downtown, and we had agreed that we would have to go there and try it together. We met there one afternoon before I had to head to work. I thought we would just go and get a cup of coffee and hang out for an hour or so. We were there for about three hours, and I still wasn't ready to go when it was time to leave for work. Even though my car was closer to the Cafe than Emma's, I gladly accepted her offer to drive me back to where I was parked. As her car started up we joked about how we should skip out on work and just take off for Chicago again. I can't remember if it was there in the car, but do remember that was the day that I asked Emma if she would go out with me again. She agreed. Whether it was before or after my shift, I don't remember, but I do remember being in an absurdly good mood at work, even though we were preparing for a corporate visit. I stood there, grinning at the wall as I folded denim.
It was over a week before we finally made it out on that date, mostly because retail schedules suck. We went on a picnic to headwaters park. I did everything in my significant powers to make sure that it was as pretty a picnic as humanly possible; I packed a delicious light lunch in the old wicker basket, along with cloth napkins, cute plates, a table cloth, drinks, fresh flowers and a vase, and most of the silverware that we needed to be able to eat lunch. I went over to get Emma, and she of course came out looking adorable.
And ooh doggies was I nervous.
I don't think I showed it though, and we made our way out to headwaters park. It was a radiant day, with just a little bit of a breeze. The trees were still flowering and the grass was soft and fragrant. We made our place in a peaceful spot about 20 feet off the path.
Here the author stopped.
But I can assure you:
It is well on the way to happily ever after.
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