Reminiscing and Anticipation

(Originally written on May 28, 2009)

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Last night, Sparrow came back into town after spending a year-and-a-half teaching English in Argentina and then hiking his way back up to the U.S. through South and Middle America.  He’s going to be here for the summer working at the YMCA camp until he goes to Princeton in the fall for seminary school.  Sparrow and I have a very unique and interesting history, which is made even more so by our respective relationships with Napoleon and Gaston.  Allow me to explain this by first detailing my relationship with Sparrow and then explaining Sparrow’s relationships with Napoleon and Gaston.  After that, it should be pretty clear how they tie together and put a bizarre spin on it all.

I first met Sparrow when I was a freshman in college (2004) at the opening SGA (Student Government Association) meeting of the fall.  It was pouring outside and I didn’t have an umbrella, so I trudged through the rain in my oversized University hoodie from my dorm to the dinning hall, then from the dining hall to the building where the meeting was being held.  I ended up getting to the meeting really early (probably about 20 minutes) and was the only one there…except for Sparrow.  He was a senator and was there serving his office hours.  I took off my sweatshirt, which was heavy with rainwater, and we got to talking.  And right off the bat, I was attracted to him.

The meeting opened with a welcoming and then split into committees.  Naturally, I chose the Student Life committee, which was head up by Sparrow.  Once the committee relocated and settled into its room, Sparrow addressed the first order of business:  appointing a secretary…which ended up being me.  Anyways, the primary role of the Student Life committee was the planning and execution of Tailgate with the Team, an event held on campus where the football team, coaches, and cheerleaders eat and mingle with the students (and give speeches and exhibitions and whatnot).  Additional meetings were held solely to prepare for Tailgate and, as the secretary, I attended those as well.  The guy that Sparrow put in charge of those meetings was incredibly unorganized and just wasn’t getting anything done.  After a particularly irritating Tailgate meeting, I called Sparrow to express my concern with being able to pull it off…and I think I bitched a little about what an idiot the Tailgate dude was.  So that’s how Sparrow got my number (at the beginning of every SGA meeting, Sparrow always posted his contact info on the whiteboard).

About a week later, I received a call from Sparrow:

Do you know what Celeste Cola is?

No, what is it?

Well, Celeste Cola is a gas station brand of Coke and me and my fraternity brothers are kinda obsessed with it.  It’s great.  Every football Saturday, I sit on the front porch of my fraternity house and enjoy a nice, cold Celeste Cola.  I was wondering, Elliott, would you like to drink a Celeste Cola with me this Saturday?

I would love to!

And Sparrow and I had a date (this marked X’s and my first “break”)!  I tailgated and went to the football game with him and had a really great time.  We started hanging out a lot more:  we went to more football games together; I would come over to his fraternity house (he lived there) and we would watch movies and he introduced me to Monty Python’s Flying Circus; and I attended fraternity parties and date nights with Sparrow as his date.

Now here’s where things start to get sticky – and, mind you, I’m fully aware that it’s all my fault.  Anyways, the very last date night of the semester was Sparrow’s semiformal.  We had a ball!  I’m not sure if there was ever a single moment when we weren’t dancing.  When we got to our car after the conclusion of the bash, we noticed that there was a note folded up and enclosed in a ziplock bag that was tucked under one of the windshield wipers.  Written on it was a scavenger hunt-like clue that instructed us to go to a building on North Campus (which is renown for its beauty and holds several famous historical landmarks).  Sparrow played it off like, “Oh cool, have you heard about this?  It’s this thing where you’re randomly chosen to go on this hunt through campus and there’s a surprise at the end.  Do you want to do it?”  I had never heard of this “secret society” and figured it was just because I was a naïve freshman; but it sounded really interesting and exciting, so I definitely wanted to do it.  Each clue took us to a different romantic spot on North Campus and the final clue lead us to the Founder’s Garden, where Sparrow gave me a pair of earrings for Christmas (the “surprise at the end”) and asked me to be his girlfriend.  Let me go ahead and just say that I am an idiot:  I told him that I couldn’t because I wasn’t over X yet.  Needless to say, that was pretty much the end of that.

Later on throughout my sophomore and junior years, Sparrow and I reunited a few times when X and I were taking other breaks, but, obviously, nothing serious ever came out of it.

Now – onto Sparrow’s relationships with Napoleon and Gaston:  the three of them are all fraternity brothers in the same fraternity (XYZ)…so they’re all pretty good friends.  Not only that, but before Gaston was Napoleon’s roommate, Sparrow was.  And it turns out that Napoleon and I have been neighbors for the past three years, but didn’t meet or become aware of that fact until this past September.

So it’s just odd because I’m sure the three of them have been sharing their individual stories about me with each other since Sparrow’s return.  I wonder how that’s going to affect my relationships with them – specifically, Sparrow and Gaston…

•     •     •     •     •

Gaston told me last night that he’s made his decision regarding “us” and he’s going to tell me what that decision is on Sunday.  He wants to wait until Sunday since he left to go home to south Georgia today and expects that’s when he’ll be back.  I can’t help but have this urge to tell him that I don’t care about doing it “properly” (face-to-face) and that I just want for him to tell me over the phone.  I’m so tired of waiting.

It’s Always Something (Continued…kinda)

(Originally written on April 21, 2009)

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Saturday afternoon, I was frustrated because Gaston had said on Friday that he would call me when he left south Georgia.  Thus, I was expecting a call around 3:30pm.  At 4pm or so, I texted him saying that if he wanted to stay there, that was fine, but to just let me know so that I could make other plans.  No response.  Nevertheless, I continued “prepping” (hair and makeup and the whatnot).

At 7pm I decided to go with Napoleon to the cookout at Rowdy’s place.  At first the group of us was watching Superbad, when Gaston eventually ended up calling at around 7:30pm to say that he was just starting to drive back from south Georgia. So we ate and drank and played beer pong until around 10pm-ish when Gaston finally arrived.

Before we left, however, our friend Snoopy had gotten shmammered.  This is an incredibly unusual occurrence – Snoopy doesn’t normally drink that much because his family has a history of alcoholism.  Nonetheless, he imposed some classic quotes upon us in his drunken state as he was retrieving a ping pong ball from the side of the hill:

Snoopy:  You might have to get in here and pull me out!

All:  That’s what she said!

and:

Snoopy:  The spiky thing got my foot!

Perhaps it was funnier at the time, but we all found these comments hilarious.

Anyways, Napoleon, Gaston, and I were all tired and left around 11pm.  When we got back, Gaston was talking about how exhausted he was.  I mean, you could just tell from looking at him.  We went back into his bedroom and I said,

I was wondering why you decided to drive back so late.  Why did you do that since you’re so tired?  I wouldn’t have minded if you stayed in south Georgia.

I wanted to come back to see you.

Seriously?

Yea.

I felt kinda bad after questioning him, but he can frequently be full of shit and great at spitting out those one-liners…

We ended up not going to the fraternity party and just stayed in bed.

It’s Always Something

(Originally written on April 19, 2009)

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I realize that my posts have been becoming fewer and farther-between lately.  This is because graduation is approaching and my professors and project team members just continue to regurgitate more and more of a workload into my lap.  Especially my client project.  But I won’t get into that, it’s incredibly uninteresting and, to be perfectly honest, I’m tired from having worked on it like a madwoman over the past few days.  Anyways, I’ve finished my schoolwork for the day, so we’re moving on.

As far as the job front is going, the interview process with Bacchus isn’t moving as quickly as I had hoped it would.  I continue expecting phone interviews, and the same chick keeps calling me, asking the same questions, and telling me that she’ll call me back for another interview…As frustrating as this cycle is, there is nothing to be done.  I mean, it’s the best lead I have right now in terms of employment.  Oh well.

Thursday afternoon/evening/night, I went to Polly’s with Yuengling and Sly, a friend who looks just like Jack Black and bartends at Polly’s a bit; I probably arrived downtown at around 6pm or 7pm.  It was a pretty chill night and I wasn’t drinking that heavily because I had gotten severe sunburn out at the apartment “pool” (the quotes are because it’s not much bigger than the size of a puddle) with Napoleon earlier that afternoon.

Gaston and Napoleon had an engagement party to attend and then were going to come downtown.  At around 11pm, I was just tired and ready to go home.  However, Yuengling said he wasn’t comfortable driving yet and he needed to walk home one of our sloshed buddies (whose birthday was that night).  When he got back from this endeavor, he still wasn’t ready to drive – which was fine.  I normally would have had no problem waiting, but my sleepiness was more severe than I have ever experienced and I was trying to convince him that I would be fine walking home.

Right around 11:30pm or so, Gaston, Napoleon, and Leto all walked into Polly’s.  Leto and Napoleon greeted me; however, Gaston proceeded straight past me and toward the bar.  At this point I had already decided I was going home, so that didn’t even bother me like it usually would have.  Yuengling then went back to chat, I presume, and I saw this as my window to escape, so I left and texted him once I made it home safely.

I spent an unnecessarily drawn-out amount of time on Friday attending doctor appointments and getting prescriptions filled and finally made it back to the apartment around 3pm.  Napoleon was hanging out on their deck and I asked him what he and Gaston were up to for the evening.  “Well, Gaston is headed home, but I don’t know what I’m doing.”

No freakin’ way.  This was the weekend of that frat party that Gaston asked me to be his date to a month ago.  I couldn’t believe he was about to stand me up again!

Last semester, Gaston invited me to their semiformal.  Turns out, he was drunk and didn’t remember asking me.  I gave him an out, saying it was no big deal if he didn’t want to go, but he insisted that we were going.  Two days before the semiformal, he disappeared and absolutely no one knew where he was (his phone was off).  The afternoon of the event, he sent me a text that he wasn’t going to be able to make it.  I mean, I know he hates confrontation, but good god!

Anyways, I had no reason to suspect otherwise this time because Napoleon’s information was the first I had heard of it.  Thus, I went back into Gaston’s room to receive confirmation.  He was playing all chill and everything, whatever, and then I asked if I could kiss him before I went up to my apartment to grab a bite to eat.

No.

Why not?  Are you going back on the deal we made the other day?

No, you just made a really stupid, irresponsible decision last night.

This conversation played out for quite some time, only to arrive at him telling me that I can do whatever I want to do and he wasn’t mad at me.

Well you always seem to have some excuse not to kiss me lately.  Do you not like kissing me?

You know the answer to that.  I like kissing you.

I just don’t understand, if you aren’t mad at me, why you’re punishing me.

I’m not punishing you.

Then why won’t you kiss me?

I’ve just had a bad day.

And, of course, he wouldn’t tell me what made his day bad.  He just insisted that he would be back Saturday by 6pm and that he would then take me to the party or whatever.

Then, as he was leaving he pulled me in for a hug and held me tighter for longer than usual, kissing my cheek.  When he eventually pulled away, he gave me a little peck on the lips (which is all I wanted in the first place) and reassured me that he would call when he headed back up.

Random Study Retirement Thoughts

(Originally written on March 22, 2009)

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So I officially can’t look at any more of this stuff tonight and am retiring to an early morning tomorrow.   I figured I’d lighten up from my recent posting patterns.

Quite a few interesting things came up last night:

• So, the other night after running into X at my friend’s band’s show, I handled it awfully.  I started crying and then my drunk ass sketched off and started walking home (at like 11:30pm).  Surprisingly, Gaston, Napoleon, Rowdy (Gaston’s cousin), and company left around 12am.  Turns out, Gaston was seriously about to throw down with X.  I mean, he literally called his buddies from back home in south Georgia and told them to come up to help him “take X out.”  Is it bad that this information made me happy?  When I asked him this question (via text, even though he was two people away from me, because everyone was around), he smiled and said “No.”  I guess I see it as a sign that he is getting closer to a possible relationship, with the whole possessiveness and everything.
• At Polly’s (the bar where we’re regulars) last night, Gaston kissed me in front of everyone (when I say “kiss”, by the way, I mean peck).  I mean, not just in front of whoever happened to be driving by at the time, like the other day – Napoleon, Rowdy, the bartenders, … people we know well.   This, of course, also made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
• So, Gaston is actually about a year older than me, but we are in the same “grade” (I guess another way of saying this is that we graduated from high school the same year).  Well, he is on the five-year graduation track in   college.At our University, at least, every fraternity has a huge theme party that lasts an entire week (he’s in a fraternity, we’ll call it XYZ), and last night he asked me,  “Will you be my date to [XYZ’s themed week-long party]?”  Of course I said yes!  It’s a huge deal that he actually used the word “date”, by the way.

Well, I better get to bed so that I don’t hate myself any more than necessary in the morning!