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hey vanity [long]
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So, I think I'm becoming "depressed." The high-larious part is that I don't hate my life any more today than I did a week or a year ago. Maybe it's finally sinking in that I'm not playing Bionic Commando and I can't hit the reset button on my life and start over. This is it.
Okay, so I'm depressed, now what? It doesn't really seem that bad so far. I haven't had any appetite for about a week straight, but so what, I'm really fat. For the first couple days I didn't but one meal every other day, it just didn't interest me. More recently, I've been eating one or two squares, and a protein bar here or there.
Why would a fat guy eat an energy bar filled with calories? Well, it stems back to the "depression" thing. Always the King of Wishful Thinking (sorry, Go West), I decided my life would be better if I stopped drinking for awhile. Since I have no self control of my own, I bet one of my friends 200 dollars that I could go the month of April without having any alcohol. While it'll likely just mean I end the month with less money than I began it with, there's a chance the wager will help me abstain from one of my 19 vices.
Next I ask my invisible friend, "what reason does a quasi-functional alcoholic have for giving up the hooch for a month?" My less invisible friend calls me seconds later and declares "Dude, I'm going to run the Bolder Boulder." I'm like, 5k race? I'm in. I can use my time to not drink to train for this 5k race (I realize normal people don't need to train to run 3 miles, but I eat normal people for breakfast... seriously, with lots of syrup).
I give him my verbal commitment, and we get one other friend to join up, and only then does he lay the bomb on me.
"Dude, didn't you know, it's a 10k race?"
"TY$*aihgao#T^ehgejobejogeb#9u3-9UT#_(TU"
Well, now it looks as if I've entered into a 10k race. So, uh, I guess I've got that going for me.
A couple days ago I started running at my school's rec center. For a fat guy, I'm pretty active, I play basketball, walk pretty much everywhere I go, lift weights occasionally. I WAS NOT PREPARED. Running fucking sucks. I haven't done anything like this since high school football, and I sucked at it then. I don't understand how some people enjoy this shit. I run a quarter of a mile and my heart actually leaps out of my chest, slaps me in the face, and threatens to go on strike if I do it again. People run 26 mile marathons all the time. Wtf, mate? So, you can see how protein bars just naturally fall into place. I quit drinking on a bet, I got suckered into "training" for a 10k run, and I don't ever feel like eating anymore. Ridiculous. These fluke combination of factors are probably the best chance to get into shape (one that isn't very round) and get healthy I've had in a long time-- I suppose I should at least try to take advantage.
A week from now, I'll probably be back to blowing homeless guys for a bite of their three-week-old chocolate éclair and figuring out ways to poop from my computer chair so I don't have to get up and go to the bathroom. But, for now, I'm the King of Wishful thinking. Also, my best friend from high school is getting married in September, it would be nice to be fitt-ish at the wedding so I have the chance to bang some chicks I haven't seen in 8 years.
The symptoms for depression are: weight loss, weight gain, too much sleep, insomnia, fluctuating moods, constantly on a downswing, etc. Hmm, at least they aren't vague about it.
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Why am I depressed? I do have some personal (family) shit going on that I don't want to get into, but it's mostly something else. It's mostly about girls. Of course.
I've been quasi-dating this girl (girl A) for awhile now, I don't want to go into that much either except to say I put a heavy emphasis on the "quasi" and hope to be free and clear of "girl A" as soon as possible. There's some pressure involved there, but the straw that broke the Travis's back and sent me into my downward funk is a more pathetic, and slightly arbitrary, story involving "girl B."
Backtrack: About two weeks ago, my eye got infected because I had left my contacts in for like 3 months and my right eye turned all bright red and my eye doctor gave me some antibiotic drops and steroid drops for my eye. Naturally, I had to go awhile without wearing contacts and, even more naturally, all my pairs of glasses were broken. This results in a half-blind Travis going to school, going to work, going out drinking, and basically farting all around Boulder. After typing all that, I've realized it's not at all relevant, but it took me awhile, so I'm going to keep it in there.
Ten days or so ago, I'm at the Rio Grande (a local margarita bar, not the actual Big River) and this hostess I don't recognize points at me with a sly familiarity (I don't really know what that means either, but she pointed at me in a good, flirtatious way). I'm half blind so I have no idea who this girl is, whether I know her or not. I point back, smile, and go on my way.
Thursday, I'm drinking with my buddy WAM. Seriously, that's his name. Wait, he was actually working, I had been cut from work, and I was drinking next to my buddy WAM, not with him. Seriously, that's his name. So I'm drinking after work, next to WAM at the front door of my old bar of employment, and this SUPER cute blonde chick walks in with an uglier friend. The SUPER cute blonde points at me and I'm like, "what, do I shit on my nose or something?" She's like, "No! I work at the Rio, I'm [GIRL B], remember?" "Oh yeah, you have a nipple ring or something, right?" Yes."
Summary up to this point: A SUPER cute girl is making an effort to talk to me. She has flirted with me in the past, she is at the perfect level of drunkenness (not shit-faced, but drunk enough to take away some inhibitions), and she has a NIPPLE RING. I figure at this point there's at least a 9% chance of something good happening.
We get to talking, we leave her less attractive friend with WAM, and we keep drinking and get to talking some more. This is no Tom Hanks movie, but I'd measure the chemistry between us at this point as being at about a 7.1 on a scale to 10. We notice from afar that WAM and "girl C" (sounds better than ugly girl), are hitting it off. Girl B mentions how Girl C needs to get laid, I mention that WAM will sleep with anything, and like that (*snap*), we've formulated a plan for the four of us to go back to Girl B (the one I like)'s house.
We get back there, and I'm estimating my chances of good happenings at about 23%. Everyone but WAM is pretty drunk at this point (he was working, see), we order some food, and Girl B and I go into her room to give WAM and Girl C some privacy. The first thing I notice is a poster of Ray Borque up on her wall. Turns out she plays hockey. A girl that can kick my ass? Awesome. My level of interest jumps by 30 percent (and, in retrospect, I BET SHE COULD SMELL IT).
I'm not a huge hockey fan, but c'mon, Ray Borque? He and Adam Oates made NHL '96 the most fun Genesis game ever.
We keep talking, she puts on some music from her laptop. I wouldn't call it mood music, but it wasn't Alanis Morisette or some shit either. I'm really drunk, and my memory is fuzzy as this was almost a week ago, but I'm pretty sure we just sat there and talked. I at no point make a move. She tells me lots of interesting stuff. Her friend, Girl C, is a virgin. In my head I am thinking, "Sorry WAM, sorry WAM, sorry WAM." We check on the two of them, they are making out on the couch.
About that time, the subs get there. We all decide to watch a movie in the living room and eat. Girl B lists her movies, and from them I pick the Cutting Edge. "That's my favorite movie," she cackles. Actually, she said it sweetly, a cackling Girl B just makes me feel better (for reasons you will soon come to know). HOLY SHIT. I LOVE the CUTTING EDGE. She plays hockey and LOVES the CUTTING EDGE. She quotes the movie as we watch it, but in an endearing, not annoying, way. If you're familiar with the masterpiece and, in particular, the "Toe Pick" scene, you'll understand a few of my recent references.
I say, "Why don't you go show me that thing in your room-- you know, that thing?" in a fashion very obviously designed to give WAM and Girl C the living room to themselves.
We go into Girl B's room, we start watching Jerry Maguire, she takes her pants off in front of me.
Recap: SUPER cute girl, I'm in her room, she plays hockey, her favorite movie is the cutting edge, she has a nipple ring, SHE JUST TOOK OFF HER PANTS. I am, of course, terrified. Before my brain can even realize I'm terrified, however, she has put on a pair of sweats. It's now obvious that she didn't want to fuck standing up, she wanted to change into her pj's.
We crawl in her bed to watch the movie (but not really, because her bed is like 9 feet off the ground and the movie was like 3 feet off the ground, so we couldn't really see shit) and I make some corny and unhelpful joke about whether she wants to be the big spoon or the little spoon, and we cuddle a little, and THEN WE HAVE GREAT FUCKING SEX. Oh, no, that last part is something that a man would've done. We cuddle a little, talking about stuff, occasionally checking in on WAM (she even grabs a condom out of her drawer and goes out there and throws it at WAM and Girl C at some point... OUT OF HER DRAWER, MAN), and we stop cuddling, and just keep talking. The cuddling was never even that sexual, and the intimacy of our conversation--to my recollection-- was somewhere between a customer talking to a bank teller and a girl and a guy spending their first night together, both silently wondering where it will lead. I desperately wish it was closer to the second, but hindsight forces me to believe it was nearer to the first.
She talks about her life, explains that she's only had sex with one guy, and it was a serious longterm boyfriend, and that's been over for awhile. I quote Jerry Maguire a lot, probably, I don't really remember.
Eventually, I...
Heh, I really want to type, "Eventually, I make a move.." or even, ", I ask her if I can kiss her," because that's something even a coward of a man would do in this situation. No, sir, apparently I am just a shell of a coward of a man.
Eventually, I tell her I like her. I forget if I say I'm attracted to her, or if I want to take her on a date, or just, "I like you." I don't remember if she seemed pleased or flattered, but I do remember her response was "Can we talk about this in the morning when I'm more sober?"
TOE PICK! TOE PICK! TOE PICK! TOE PICK! TOE PICK!
If I were really the shell of a coward of a man like I claimed to be, I would've taken the scraps of dignity I had left, gotten dressed, and told her that I had a good time but I should be going home.
Nope, I'm just the guy who looks up to the shell of a coward of a man. I was like, "cool," and we both sort of went to sleep. Only, she went to sleep, and I didn't. I felt like a douchebag, and I was uncomfortable, and I felt like a loser, and I was hot and sweaty in her fucking 300 degree room, but all I could do was stair and the back of her shirt thinking, "This is a really pretty girl. Maybe I still have a chance. TURN AROUND, TURN AROUND, TURN AROUND." And a couple of times I swear she heard my thoughts and she actually turned over to face me for awhile. I guess she didn't hear my brain shouting, "Kiss me. Please. C'mon. Kiss me. WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME?" My brain is fucking gay.
Finally, I fall asleep. At about seven or eight am, I wake up and take a piss, on the way back I notice WAM is gone. Girl C is sleeping on the living room floor, but WAM is gone. I mention this to Girl B, half-asleep on her bed still, and she kind of freaks that WAM just left Girl C in the middle of the night. She gets up, talks to Girl C in the living room and comes back in like 30 seconds later and is like, "you ready?" I'm caught off guard, you see, because I'm tired, and I'm so desperate that I actually kind of want to go back to sleeping next to this girl that I don't even know but have decided I am in love with. I don't really respond, but she's like, "Girl C should drive us back to the Rio so I can pick up my car."
TOE PICK!
They offer to drive me home and although I don't want to accept, I do because it's sort of on the way and I can't think of a good excuse to walk. It turns out WAM left at like 5am, said he had to be down in Denver. They pull up to my apt building, I get out, say something unremarkable and Girl B just responds with, "Have a good one!" And they drive off. Have a good one? What the fuck? Am I in an episode of Seinfeld?
TOE PICK! FUCKYOUFEAJHAEGJBH TOE PICK!
I get in my room, its Friday morning at like 8, I haven't really slept much, so I crash for awhile.
I wake up at like two, immediately send Girl B a text message, "So, did you get the dirt on Girl C and WAM?" This sounds more immature than it actually was, Girl B and I were speculating incessantly the night before as to whether WAM and Girl C were having sex.
She responds a few minutes later with, "Turns out they didn't have sex, but I think she likes him.'
I send her another text, and we go back and forth for a bit until finally I've decided it's been at least fifteen minutes since I'm made a terrible and completely regrettable decision, so I text her something along the lines of, "I had a good time last night. I like you, I'd like to take you out sometime."
Predictably, I get no response. I know she has to work at 3, but we aren't there yet, so my mood drops faster than a penny falling out of Mugtoe's colon.
TOE PICKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!
Whatever, I don't want to justify her lack of response, but I can see how awkward of a situation I may have put her in.
WAM calls me.
me: "Yo WAM, what's up?"
WAM: "Did you fuck her?"
me: "Heh, what do you think? I fucked it up."
WAM: "You fucking asshole, I fucking hate you."
me: "What do you mean, I at least got you laid."
WAM: "You douchebag, I WAS JUMPING ON THE GRENADE. I was not at all attracted to that girl but I almost had to take her virginity because I didn't want her to go into Girl B's room and bust up your sexcapades, but you weren't even fucking her!! YOU DIDN'T EVEN KISS HER!!"
Yes, gentle viewers, it turns out that WAM was being a true and loyal friend. He jumped on the grenade trying to help me bang a chick he knew I liked, and he got cut hell by shards of ugly in the process.
FUCK!!!!
I'm really pissed now. Every time I receive a text message I'm terrified that it's going to be the one from Girl B, sending me to my doom (even though the King of Wishful Thinking part of me secretly holds out hope for a happy ending).
Finally, when I'm at work, she sends me a text message.
"I'm really flattered, but I'm kind of involved with someone else right now. Sorry it took me so long to respond, I was at work."
TOE PICK! TOE PICK! TOE PICK! TOE PICKSOJWEFIEHPIAEGHIPAEHPAEHEGAIP
aeojgeaipjhgPKEGHpkeg
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TOE PICK!!!!!!
Fuck, it didn't even piss me off either (though it obviously does now). It just made me really quiet and unhappy for the rest of the night. It didn't matter that she was a liar. either a) she was in fact single, just like she had mentioned last night, and she was lying to me now in the text, or b) she IS involved and was lying to me last night, and also slept in a bed with me and probably would've cheated on him with me if I were any sort of man capable of making such things happen. So what? I still liked this girl. The Cutting Edge for God's sake.
I send her some sort of stupid text message in response, one where I'm actually the guy apologizing, I think. "Oh, I'm sorry, I feel like a jackass for staying over if you're involved. Hehh, good luck, I guess. TOE PICK!"
I don't remember exactly what I said, but I swear to god I ended it with "TOE PICK!" FUCK. I hate myself. Yeah, she never responded to that one, and it took me until this evening to delete her phone number from my phone.
I've since avoided the Rio all together and have also grown to really fucking hate my life. I've banged a few girls since I've been in Boulder, and, as I said before, I'm sort of involved with a Girl A, so I'm not completely incapable... but jesus, that's the second time since I've moved here that I've slept in a bed with a chick that I met at a bar and NOT HOOKED UP WITH HER AT ALL. Who the fuck does that, seriously?
I don't know, I forget why I typed all this. I originally just wanted to type a "running sucks" mini-rant, but I guess my fingers know exactly what kind of venting I really need to do.
I've come to accept all this shit, but it doesn't really make me feel any better. If that girl called me up and asked me to do her homework, pay her rent, and then come over and sleep next to her and her imaginary boyfriend in her bed, I'd probably do it.
I'm a sucker. Oh well.
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