Shut Up And Listen 75

Lady Troubles
I was right and it’s at times like these that I hate being so.
	Last week, I mentioned my “love life” a little and how I asked out a girl (and I bet you still don’t believe me), she said no, but said she’d love to see a movie with me as a “friend.” This all happened on Tuesday August 13 and I haven’t spoken to her since. Most of talking is done via ICQ as we don’t get a chance to see each other that much and I’m not a phone person. She was out of town a couple of days, but otherwise, I haven’t seen her online.
	This brings to mind October of grade eight (1996) when I asked out Natalie (I think that was her name) after school one day. I probably did it in my own lame way, you know. “Uh, hi, yeah, would you like to, um, you know, uh, got out with me or something, you know?” She said the ever-popular “maybe” and then asked for my number so she could phone me with the definitive answer. Around 5:00 that evening I was greeted with a phone call.
	“Hello?” I said.
	“Hi, is Chad there?”
	“Speaking.”
	“Oh, hi, this is Natalie.”
	“Hi . . .”
	“Yeah, I was thinking and well, I kind of like someone else.”
	“Oh?”
	“Yeah and it wouldn’t be fair for me to lead you on or anything.”
	“Okay.”
	“Can we still be friends?”
	“Uh, yeah, sure, whatever.”
	“Great. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
	“Yeah. Bye.”
	“Bye.”
	Note: not an actual transcript of the conversation, just the author’s version of it many years later. It seems pretty accurate though.
	I was feeling bad, but it could have been worse. At least she was polite and we could still be courteous to one another, you know? So I went into school the next day, sat down right behind her and went the entire day without talking to her. Did the same thing the day after and the day after that and the day after that and the day after that for about a month.
	We were still friends, you know.
	As for my other failed attempts, there was Angela in grade seven who I asked out right before Christmas break. She said no. Or Christina who I asked out in the spring of grade eight. She said no and did so in a mean way, if I recall correctly.
	The only yes I ever got was in the summer between grades seven and eight from Fiona. See, she lived down the street from me and babysat the little shits next door sometimes. So one day I asked her out (on a dare I believe) and she said yes. Now, I had no fucking idea what that meant. No one ever went up to me as a child and said, “Chad, now here’s what you do when you and a girl are going out, okay?” The only thing I remember is being in grade five or six and “couples” would spend recess walking around, holding hands in a circle around the playground. They looked incredibly dumb.
	So me and Fiona are going out, right? Only thing is I’m going away for a week to my grandma’s house. When I get back, she’s gone for two weeks somewhere. When she got back, her best friend broke up with me. 
	We went out for three weeks, spoke twice and then her best friend dumped me. 
	Fiona moved away to Europe somewhere a year later. Now that’s what I call a buffer zone.
	So you can sort of understand why I never asked out anyone all throughout my high school years (and I know about twenty others who never did either—who’ve never asked a girl out). But this summer, the summer before entering university, I thought I’d overcome my fear of rejection and just go for it. I did and I’ve already explained the results.
	See, I was happy with what had happened, as it seemed like nothing had changed. Hell, we were going to go see a movie. We talked like normal for a couple hours after all that and everything seemed normal. (Strange thing though, our “safe zone” of conversation—meaning the area of discussion where our conversations were the most engrossing, interesting and just generally where I didn’t make an ass of myself—was sex. I kid you not; we could talk about all that for hours. I think it’s because we’re pretty comfortable with each other, we both have similar views on that stuff, and well, we’re geeks, sort of. In fact, she was impressed that I knew that not all women masturbate. That’s right, boys, they all don’t. In fact, a sizeable number don’t. Apparently other guys have a problem believing that. Whatever.)
	But we haven’t talked in over a week and my self-esteem is shit. Guess I wasn’t paranoid, now was I?