Now that it's Spring, the weddings have begun. And with each passing year, more and more of my peers disappear down the wormhole of marriage. With marriage comes children, and then it is official that they are the adults and the rest of us are just chumps trying to figure our shit out.
And when I try to figure my shit out, one of the first places I turn to is Facebook. Yes, it's easy to feel like you're not doing too bad in your life when you see what some other people are up to in theirs. I do that on a daily basis though, it's a sort of morning motivation to get me up and going. Like being able to stroll down the street and say "fuck you" to every stranger you see while smiling ear to ear.
This time around, and maybe because it's one of my close-ish friends, I'm going through my old Facebook messages and rereading all the conversations that ended up amounting to nothing.
Years later, I reread this one and wonder what the hell was my problem. It takes serious balls to send someone a message like that asking them out, and we had only met through some Freshman orientation. There are no more signs of communication between us after this final message. She's beautiful too, and I wonder how she fell through the cracks of people I was paying attention to (the arrogance of a young adult male). Maybe her forwardness is something that is tough to appreciate until years later, because now, I bet she's fucking awesome, and she probably was back then too.
It's not every day that someone asks me out, especially through Facebook messages, and this may have possibly thrown off my game into thinking she was a weirdo. What a dumb ass.
This was a rough one, and it's clear that I wasn't really getting the hint. I had a crush on her for about three full years before this. I loved her style, her posts, her face, her attitude - even though we'd never really fully talked. We ran in each other peripherals until we finally bumped into each other at a party and shared enthusiasm for Rhianna's We Found Love (the music video really is amazing) and at the end she was adamant that we hang and get to know each other. It didn't help that at this particular party I was completely faced on ecstasy and believed that she and I had carried on a profound conversation and that she was feeling just as excited as my skin and brain felt.
After years of crushing, I had put her way too high on a pedestal and once she opened the flood gates for us to communicate, I went hard. Text after text to little or no response. I wanted her to see that we shared interests and also know that I was funny (for her kind of humor) and that I was up on current affairs (the ones she cared about) and I even when I got the hint that I was coming on too hard and desperate, something in the back of my brain kept telling me, "just try a different approach, maybe she'll respond this time."
That's when I received the message above. A clear "don't text me, I'll text you" scenario. Sure, I tried to play it cool, as if she couldn't sense my forced casualness. I was screaming on the insides, staring defeat directly in the face with her beautiful, uninterested eyes.
The real kicker for me is that eventually, I did get the hint and leave her alone. A year later, we bumped into each other at another party and she did ask me out on a real date and we did really go on one and it was by far the worst date of my entire life. Yes, I was stressed and nervous about taking her out on a real date, to a show and everything, and yes, I probably tried to impress her in all the wrong ways (college student ordering wine?) but at least I fucking tried.
We left at the intermission because the show sucked and I was determined we could turn the date around. Finally, I was comfortable with her and was able to be my "real self" in front of her. I suggested we go see a movie, or go do mini golf, or get ice cream, anything to have a little fun and get to know each other. She said that she had plans with friends instead (that explains her constant texting during the show), and asked that I simply drive her home.
I wanted it too much. Before this, I thought that was something endearing because of all the John Cusack movies I'd seen. There's nothing like the indifference of a beautiful woman.
We were buds. I met "Jane" on her first weekend at school, which was my sophomore year. We became good friends, and remained on each other's personal back burner for the entirety of college. She was a totally rad chick. Nothing bothered her, she went with the flow, could go harder than anyone I knew, and was the absolute life of the party - and the parties she brought me to were wild.
We were never close friends, but the times we shared together were full of deep connections. We didn't need to be close. We were each other's escape from all the other fucking bullshit that went on. Zero friends in common, and we both wanted to keep it that way. I think our "relationship" was so much fun that we both figured dating each other would only ruin it.
Last year, I found out she died after falling from a second floor balcony and landing on her head.
Jane did the one thing she would have never dreamed of doing. She taught me what regret is.