I’ve never claimed to be a great guy. I’d say, more often than not, I’m a pretty decent one all things considered but, in the interest of full disclosure I should tell you up front, this story will not paint me in a flattering light. At least not to women. There’s definitely some section of men that will not only smile at this story, but think, “Good on ya, well done.”
It started my sophomore year in high school. I was, in the words of A&P, fresh obsessed with this girl in my English class. She had long blonde hair, kept mostly to herself and didn’t seem to know quite how attractive she actually was. In other words: I felt like I had a real shot.
Naturally, in my efforts to court her, I did nothing to grab her attention. In fact, I don’t believe we ever had any real conversation of any kind. Basically, all I had going for me were a few scattered, disjointed AIM conversations. Back then (and probably still to this day) I was convinced that any actual conversation I had with her would only hurt my chances. You’ve heard of playing it on the low? I was subterranean in that bitch.
After a handful of these meaningless AIM convos, I decided now was the time to pop the question.
Would you want to go out sometime?
I may have been generic and non-specific, but hell if I wasn’t direct.
Wait a beat–maybe thirty seconds.
No.
OK, so was she.
I had two immediate reactions. The first was, pretty obviously, total and utter disappointment. How… I mean… why? But… we had had so many great AIM chats! She just LOL’d at the joke I’d made, that bitch!
The second, honestly, was shock at how impressed I was with the speed at which she came to her final decision. I wasn’t timing her with a stopwatch, but there couldn’t have been more than 60 seconds between “?” and “No.” And, that’s to say nothing of the insane directness it took to not even bother with an excuse*.
Whatever her reasoning was, fact of the matter was I was crushed. I don’t think I spoke to another girl not related to me for a year, maybe a year and a half.
Fast forward to a year out of college… I’m at the bar with a few of my buddies from home and who walks up but this gal and a few of her friends. Of course, she looked and acted exactly the same (which is to say: fantastic, but painfully shy). I assumed, like a moron, that nothing had changed. We were still mortally locked enemies, now 7.5 years deep in battle.
I said nothing, let her and her pals pass through after a quick hello. Before my friends, I left the bar to take care of something. The next day while playing basketball, my buddy tells me this girl had told her friend that she thought, and I quote, “Scott looked cute!” I add that ! because even he said it with an effeminate lilt when retelling the story the next day.
I smiled at how, after all this time, we still hadn’t progressed much past the 5th grade socially. Then, I had my Staples moment.
After a messed up bar meet**, we all wound up getting together and she and I hit it off (That is, of course, if you consider ‘hitting it off’ as two people simply being sexually attracted to one another and having little beyond that in terms of chemistry of any kind).
There were a few dates, but really all I was doing was counting down the time until she would be moving to the town where I lived so we could do the hibbity-dibbity.
I’d give you more details, but I’ll spare you for two reasons: 1, I can barely remember any of them and 2, they don’t particularly matter.
We wound up hooking up a few times, squarely at my apartment. She held off on any actual intercourse the first time or two but ultimately went against her better instincts we wound up sleeping together.
As I walked her to her apartment the next morning, I didn’t realize it would be (honestly) the last time I’d ever see her. I’d be lying if I said I’d orchestrated this whole thing with the intent of screwing her and never calling her again. Like I said at the open, I’m not man of the year material, but I’m certainly not a total asshole.
That said… it did sort of work out that way, didn’t it?
And, now that I know she’s seemingly happily dating (engaged?) to some guy (Thanks, Facebook), I can comfortably say I couldn’t be happier about the way it all worked out.
Any of you saying the best revenge is to live well just don’t know how sweet life can be.
*Looking back on this whole thing, I get the sense that she honestly didn’t know any better. Not in saying no, but in having the kind heart to at least make an excuse. I sometimes tend to forget she too was in 10th grade.
**First off, why is there a bar called The Office? And, how the fuck would I know they were going to the one on Route 22?
scott spinelli 