"Michael, how was your first day of first grade?"
"It was amazing momma, I think cupid struck me with all his arrows because I like all the girls in my class. Especially this one girl, she is cute, and nice, and doesn't make fun of my speech problems."
That was the first day I met Lauren, and even then at five years old I knew she was destined for great things. Sixteen years later and she is still destined for greatness. She was the girl who could bring back the shy unconfident kid in me, even with all the improvements I have made since graduating High school three years ago. When I went off to college I chose the place furthest I could get, claiming that I wanted to leave this Podunk town and all the fucking crazy people in it. In reality I was just running away from one person.
Lauren broke my heart without ever knowing it. I was supposed to be the guy she realized senior year that was her soul mate, I was the nice guy, the smart guy, the guy everybody could count on. She dated men who treated her like a girl who was dumb and average. She dated men who constantly cheated on her, who treated her like shit, men who made her feel so small that she would only accept love from other men like that. It has been a while since I have actually hung out with Lauren, but I still think about her more than I should. The few friends I still talk to from high school say I'm "hung up." My college friends have just seen Facebook photos of us together and assume she is just a girl I used to bone. I could easily be hung up, the distance I wanted never seemed to give me the definitive space I needed: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram all have made it impossible for me to not check-in and see what Lauren is up to which makes it almost impossible for me to move on so to speak.
I tried masking my infatuation with her by sleeping around, having pointless one night encounters with women who always wanted more than just the intense session of sex. After every single one I would find myself sub-consciously comparing them to Lauren. It is a very fucked up thing to do, but in the week or two after seducing a lady into my bed I would run over their "stats" like I'm choosing a starting quarterback from my Madden video games. I'd run through the list: Intelligence, decent; smile, nothing to write home about; personality, bitchy; looks, not my normal type; conversation skills, unbearable; conclusion, cut from the team. There was always one stat I never seemed to consider, a crucial one that might have made the others more bearable: their interest level in me. Each one of the ladies were genuinely liked me, but I never thought about that because the rest of the skills didn't hold a candle to Lauren. Lauren could never see me as more than just a friend, but in my mind that was the one thing I could control.
In my mind, Lauren was just afraid to lose me. I always thought the time away would show her how much I meant to her, but I realized shortly out-of-sight, out-of-mind was the truest of all sayings. When we were with each other everyday in high school I was always in her mind. people would say at least once a week "Are y'all dating yet?" And I would listen to her answer every time with a resounding "Oh My God, No! We are just friends." But at least it was being brought up. That ended up becoming the automatic response. After four years, it started becoming me confidently repeating those exact words through and unconfident mush in my soul.
After three years, I thought I had gotten rid of that lack of confidence. Power moves is what my buddies and I came up with to fight the lack of confidence. It was a way to show a woman from the starting gate that you had control and confidence. Moves that showed you were the shit and they had to be with you. Albeit, it was not the most ethical or honest approach, but in four years honesty had only ever left me hurt. In short, you would start of by saying something out of left field and put them off-kilter, and then spend the rest of the night being your normal nice guy self. A popular one was simply calling a girl by the wrong name, and when she corrected you telling her the wrong name fits her better. The trick was to not let the douche-baggery last too long or then they will shut you out the rest of the night. After the quick assholiness you must switch back to the good ole reliable man that women trust. Douchebag to hook the fish, and nice guy to reel them in. If executed right dinner would be served for the night. However here I am sitting at a bar waiting on a woman who knows my character better than anyone I have ever reeled in, and I'm waiting, waiting just to hear her say my name again, waiting to see that heavenly smile again, waiting to see if she can see the changes in me that I believe I see in myself
I've been sitting in this bar waiting for Lauren to show up. People have come and gone, and with each creek of the door opening an instant jerk of my head to see if she had arrived. Its been an hour and I believe I have fallen for the trap. My phone set just in front of my beer, my eyes glued to it until I hear the door open and jerk my head around continually to my disappointment.
"You gotta be careful or you're gonna snap your head right off." The bartender chuckled trying to give me the first conversation other than ordering another beer. "It must be somebody important you're waiting for. What's her name?" My eyes finally peeled from my phone as I turned my attention to the bartender trying to find a way to respond. "Or his? Hey, I don't judge."
"It's a woman." I chuckled "Its just an old friend from high school I haven't seen in a few years."
She gave me this look, a look that you give your friend when you catch them lying and you know the truth. A looked that showed me that I was too anxious, and if I am too anxious then everyone will be able to tell that I still like her. I just have to remember what the first woman I ever slept with told me, when I'm confidant and sure of myself I am the sexiest man around. So I sat back, took a deep breath, and thought of a happy memory so I could genuinely smile. Thinking of those memories helped the time fly by and more importantly the nerves go away.
Its been an hour and a half since we were supposed to meet, I've drunk five beers, and there has been no sign that Lauren is coming. It's time to cash out my tab, and go home. The bartender handed me back my card, and I made my way for the exit pulling out the pack of cigarettes I was attempting not to smoke so that Lauren wouldn't know my horribly bad habit. Lauren never came though, and I had never craved a cigarette more than right now. So I put one in my mouth and as soon as I walked out the door started lighting it. The flame from the lighter danced in the cup of my hand attempting to block the wind just enough for me the tip of my Pall Mall cigarette to ignite.
"When the hell did you start smoking?!" Her voice stopped me dead in my tracks and I could see the smile I had longed to see. I could have looked at that smile for hours if the flame hadn't of scorched the palm of my hand.
"Only when I wait over an hour for somebody." I shot back quickly recovering from my hand being burnt.
"I guess that fair. Sorry, my mom and I got into another argument, and my phone died so I couldn't text you." Even when she makes me wait for a long time she still makes me feel like I'm the asshole in the situation, one of her many skills that have helped keep me as the unconfident, insecure friend. "How are you? Its been forever." She asked giving me a one armed half-assed hug you give distant relatives or mere acquaintances.
We made our small talk outside in the cold until I could see her starting to shiver.
"Lets go inside," I ushered.
"What about your cig?"
"I don't need it anymore." I smirked and for some reason, just being around her made the nicotine addiction subside. We sat down and instantly started talking about our three years away from each other. She talked about going to Africa, doing alternative breaks, and making a real difference in the world. I talked about rugby, parties, and generally living each day like it was my last. We talked about our dreams and the future. We talked about memories from high school and people we graduated with who either have kids or are in jail. Embarrassingly I seemed to know more details about memories of her in high school, and she knew almost too mush about the other people in high school. Everything just seemed to flow, and it seemed like we were the only people in the bar. It almost felt as if the time we spent away from each other was just a short period of time. I felt just as close to her know as I did in high school, but I knew that even at the point where we were great friends I was never close to being her boyfriend. So maybe that wasn't a good thing. After three years of progression in my own life in just a couple hours with her I reverted back to being the person I was when I was 18.
"Have y'all ever dated?" The bartender asked. The cousin of the question "Are y'all dating yet?" My jaw clinched, my stomach tightened, and I prepared for the gut shot from Lauren.
"No, he is too good for me. I would have ended up turning him into a douchebag, and ruin him for all the other women out there." Lauren said chuckling to the bartender.
"Superman wouldn't be too good for you." I retorted in the most sincere voice I had ever used. She needed to be able to see her worth, and maybe things would finally change between us. "I knew it when we were five. I knew it when we were 15. Even now at twenty-one I still know that you are good enough, too good even, for any man in the world." She sat there staring into my eyes, and for the first time I could see it. I could see that her eyes were looking and me the same way me eyes look at her. Seeing the person that you are going to spend the rest of your life with.
It's been an hour and a half since we were supposed to meet, I've drunk five beers, and there has been no sign that Lauren is coming. It's time to cash out my tab and go home. The bartender handed me back my card, I walked out the door, lit a cigarette, and drove home. Maybe I will see her in another three years.