“Your Everyday Guys: Tom, Dick, and Harry”

Most little girls grew up planning their wedding or career. The white fabric, flowers, and party occupied most of their thoughts, or maybe the business suits and corporations did. But not I, I grew up dreaming of my future house. I know it is a little odd, but it is what I did. I dreamed of the typical, expensive New York loft, the little, peaceful cottage in the country, the ‘green’, environmentally green that is, sprawling home hid in the hills, and the suburban house outside a big city. I dreamed of my income, my family, and my life, all stages. Throughout all my dreams, “he” was there with me. “He” changed a couple times as I grew up. Blonde, brunette, or redhead, short or tall, the bad boy or the saint were all different phases “he” had taken. “He” ranged from my cousin, pardon the hick in me, to Edward, to complete and total strangers. Sometimes we had kids, sometimes we didn’t, and sometimes they were coming. As I grew up, I began to forget “him” and my houses, but I still longed for the happy, peaceful, perfect life. Once I reached eighteen, and college, I put the life on my back burner. Ironically enough, I was studying to become an architect. I was focused with my undergraduate degree, a Bachelor of Science with a Major in Architecture, so I did not have time for silly, immature boys. Don’t get me wrong. There still were a few guys in my undergraduate years.

I dated your everyday kind of guy; specifically, Tom, Dick, and Harry. Do not laugh, it is not funny. I really did date three guys called Tom, Dick, and Harry. Okay, maybe it is funny, but they were nice guys, kind of. I met Tom, Thomas Hanson, in high school, and we had been good friends for two or three years before it started. In our freshman year of college our friendship changed. We began dating, but, thankfully, we later decided we were better as close friends.

Next is Dick. His real name is Richard Langley. He is not a dick. Unfortunately, he is named after his father who is a dick. Excuse my language, but it is true. Anyway, I met Dick in my sophomore year when I tripped and fell into the dorm elevator. I was very sleep deprived, and I am a little clumsy when I am sleep deprived. He did not make one single move to help me like a southern gentleman would have. He just glanced over at me looking like a fool and laughed. I got upset, and our new relationship lasted for a year, a rough, a very rough year.

Harry was normal enough. He was very romantic, just what you would expect in a Frenchman. I spent my junior year in Paris; it was amazing. Yes, the Paris, France. Anyway, I met Harry at a café. I was to meet another friend that day, but the waiter made a mistake. So, I ended up paying half a bill for time on the sidewalk with a gorgeous man and some great tea. As expensive as it was, that day was fantastic. I know you are wondering why Harry did not last. Well, let us just say that I only date guys who follow the Ten Commandments.

So, as nice a time as I had with Tom, still my best guy friend, Dick, who I am not talking to anymore, and poor Harry, who is spending some well deserved time “resting”, I am looking for a better guy and still struggling to complete sixty credit hours in four semesters. However, this year, my last year, my final graduate year, I’m going to try to find him, as difficult as it may be, while finishing up my Master’s of Architecture. I’m really piling on the work; get ready for some major stress. Wish me good luck. Like the song says, “Baby, it’s a wild world.”

Author's Note: I don't know if I will continue this story. It depends.