Monday, February 21, 2011

We Need to Talk: Part 1

This post is too big & too depressing for a common "UGH" post.
This shit is beyond me.
First & foremost, let me say that I'm okay.
No one died, no one's pregnant, the world is not ending.
But I got shot down by one fuck of a bullet last night... hypothetically speaking, of course.
You know how Hollywood spends millions & millions of dollars on certain movies, & even though it's got an all-star cast & it's been in the making for 3 years, the movie flops,
bombs,
tanks?
I've always wondered what it would feel like to be in one of those movies.
Kind of embarassing.
Annoying, because you just wasted so much time & energy on something no one even tried to give two shits about.
Angry, because you know it was not only a good movie but you're a good fucking actor & now you have this "failure" tag attached to you...even if you're the only one who can see it.
Well, I had a box office bomb yesterday.
Two, actually...I feel like Jessica Simpson.
One of my friends knows about one & another friend knows about the other. I tried to keep this one under wraps as much as possible, just in case this shit unraveled like it ended up doing.
You're aware of one a.k.a. Forum Boy (if not, revert back to the last few posts).
We'll call him, DisasterCrush1.
The only reason, you don't know about DisasterCrush2 is because I just met him 2 days ago.
Yup, two days & the shit has already bombed.
Hey, I'm a walking fuck-up. How you doin'?
I'm slightly paranoid about writing all this down here so, I'm going try to be as clear as I can without saying exactly what it was that happened.
Hopefully, you'll be able to figure it out.
Let's start with DisasterCrush2, shall we?
I met this one on Saturday in my weekend creative writing class.
Long story shy: Handsome, Dark Featured, Unbelievably Intelligent, Friendly, Older & Funny.
In other words: good catch.
Not a perfect catch (that would be DisasterCrush1) but, he was a good distraction from the egotistical shit spewing from my professor's mouth.
Following?
DisasterCrush2 blew my mind with his talk about blues music, African traditions & the Civil Rights Movement.
Not only was he articulate but he knew exactly what the fuck he was talking about.
So I told my friend we needed to have a little one on one with him after class got out...not to hit on him, more just to pick his brain.
Mistake.
My friend had read some of her work that day & DisasterCrush2 was entralled with her.
Not just her work, HER.
Did I mention my friend is married?
Very sweet & attractive girl but somewhere between me standing awkwardly in the middle of their conversation, I was hoping the diamond ring on her finger would catch a glare & blind him for a split second. Nevermind the fact it was 9:00 at night & the sun had been long since gone.
During the conversation, I believe he made eye contact with me exactly 1.5 times.
Fine, whatever. My friend is a good writer, she's pretty, she's engaging. Can't blame him for being interested.
I told myself Sunday would be better. I'd read my shit, then get a chance to talk to him after class about it...or whatever he wanted to talk about, really.
Mistake.
The teacher didn't get around to calling me to read in front of the class until class was over.
Yeah. There were like, 5 people in the room: Me, Friend, Professor, DisasterCrush2, & two more fools who didn't feel it necessary to peace out when they had the chance.
So, I read, stutter, blush, stare at the floor while the Professor tells me I'm a good writer then moves on to talking about himself again.
Class gets out & I see DisasterCrush2 looking in my direction like he has something to say.
Fuck Yessssss!
Wait...wait...Did his eyes just shift to the right of me? Did he just call my friend over? Is she walking toward him now?
Fuck Nooooo!
My friend & I park next to each other in the parking lot at school so, I thought it would be nice to wait for her so we could walk to our cars together. I'm such a good fucking person.
Mistake.
DisasterCrush2 has all kinds of things wrtitten up for my friend. Things he thought about her piece, what it reminded him of & things he thinks she should research, all scribbled messily on the yellow notepad he keeps attatched to his hip.
I stood in the corner of the room.
Like a child in time-out.
Like the Blair-Fucking-Witch Project.
I didn't want to seem intrusive even though I would've given the world to be the one he was talking to.
While leaving the classroom, DisasterCrush2 tells me he liked my piece...then goes on to talk for another 15 mins. to my friend who nods politely & offers giggles just to be kind.
Just my luck, he parked in the same lot.
I got in my car & sped home.
No shit, I fucking sped...after doing about 10 doughnuts in the parking lot because I couldn't figure how to get the fuck out.
The only thing that kept me sane when I got home was the thought of DisasterCrush1.
DisasterCrush1, that sweet, kind, handsome guy.
Never thinking that shit couldn't get any worse after DisasterCrush2, I ignorantly continued on with my life.
Then, the second bomb of the night went off.
Casualties: My heart, my confidence, & my sex drive.

I'll tell you the rest tomorrow...

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