January 3, 2009
Okay, this is the third time I’m trying the blog thing. The first time I tried it, it was for class. The second time I tried it, it was for London. Both times were utter failures, though in my defense, I did create a very interesting set of videos to keep my family updated while travelling through Europe. Now, I’m trying it because my best guy friend, James, has his own blog and has therefore inspired me to continue with mine. So, congratulations, James—you have inspired me! I hope you have not doomed me to failure.
Anyway, I haven’t done this in a while, and since it is spontaneous, I don’t really have a plan…I guess I should just start writing about my day. It’s just like keeping a journal, right? And I have successfully managed a journal before.
Today was a Sunday. I should have gotten up and gone to church—when I’m in Tuscaloosa I go to Safe Haven Church with by boyfriend, Beau—but I didn’t. Beau and I went to see his housemate, Drew the drummer, playing with Mother Pandora (great local band) at Capone’s last night, and we didn’t leave the gathering until very late. We agreed when he dropped me off at his parents’ house last night that we would both be too tired for church this morning. Long story short: we were bums. I didn’t wake up until around 11:00 this morning. I don’t know what time Beau got up, but he had made it to his parents’ by 12:00. After lunch, we mostly hung out and watched football—well, Beau and his dad watched football, while Beau’s mom and I read books. Beau is the assistant manager at Yogurt Mountain here in T-town. If you ever go in there, he’s the really hot guy behind the counter, and if you touch him I will fight you or sick my best friend, Cheri, on you (she’s a second degree black belt, trained by Chuck Norris…okay, the Chuck Norris part is a joke). Anyway, Beau had to close tonight, so he went to work around 4:00. I brought him his lunch around 8:30.
That concludes my daily events. I hope it wasn’t too boring. It was a great day for me, personally, because I got to hang out with my amazing boyfriend. Really, Beau is amazing. I can’t wait until every single day gets to consist of Beau, Beau, Beau.
You know how some people hate the Twilight series because they claim it “gives girls unrealistic expectations of men”? (I, myself, am not a huge fan, but that’s because I think Edward is a creepy stalker.) Well, Stephenie Meyer could never have dreamed up a man as good as Beau. I have an exceedingly over-active imagination (they diagnosed it as ADD) and I could never have imagined a man as perfect for me as Beau.
I realized that nobody wants to read about some crazy woman obsessing over how great her man is, so I promise that I won’t do this every time I log on. However, I might as well get it out of the way by telling the story of how Beau and I met, so let’s go back in time a year so I can explain things:
September 2008
It was the second or third weekend of school, and I had decided to take a special trip up to Tuscaloosa (okay, T-town is only 45 minutes away from Birmingham, so the trip wasn’t that big of a deal) to hang out with my two best high school friends, Cheri and James.
Initially, I went up to see James. You see, for the majority of our young adult lives people had predicted that James and I would get together. “People” as in teachers, family, co-workers, friends, etc, and they had good call to think so. James and I are a lot alike. We have similar tastes in movies, music, comic books, and literature in general. Basically, he’s me in guy form and everyone who knows me seems to think that I am that narcissistic. Anyway, so I went to Tuscaloosa to visit James, and we were going to see if we could “work” as a couple.
Day two of my weekend in Tuscaloosa I went shopping at University Mall with Cheri for some much needed “girl time.” We were discussing my guy problems (before I “settled down” I had a plentiful amount of “guy problems,” so many that my friend Kara declared she would one day write a sitcom about my life and call it Take a Number). At this point, I was struggling with the idea of James and me in a romantic relationship. As a “couple,” we had been really awkward around each other, as if a wall had been built between us in the form of “romance.” We just didn’t know how to act. It hadn’t helped that my hot British suitor—nominated by my Aunt Libby—had been texting me almost the entire time I had been over at James’s apartment. Nick, the British suitor, and I had only been out on one date during the course of Summer ‘08, and he had waited an entire week after that date to contact me. He had texted me only in random spurts since then, and I simply did not know what to make of him texting me the entire time I was with James. On top of that, there was the constant threat of the return of my high school sweetheart, EJ, talk of my incredibly sweet and handsome guitar-playing suitor, Mark T., and the my recent introduction to the incredibly cool roller-blading phenomenon, Jeremy.
Needless to say, I was certainly not looking for any more irons to add to my fire, and that should have been obvious by the way I was dressed that day—make-up free and wearing jeans and a grungy pirate t-shirt. God, however, didn’t seem to care whether I was looking or not. As I turned the corner to enter Plan Nine (I had been in desperate need of some skate gear since meeting Jeremy) I found myself looking into the most beautiful pair of sea-green eyes I have ever seen. They belonged to the man standing behind the counter. He sported a full beard and shoulder-length curly brown hair that would make any girl green with envy—especially me. Then, he smiled at me. He smiled at me and I could have fallen into the floor. However, since that would have been way too over dramatic, I simply smiled back.
As Cheri and I explored the store, I couldn’t help but look back at the stranger, who continued to smile at me. I still couldn’t tell you what exactly it is they sell in that store because all my attention was focused on the man behind the checkout counter, checking me out.
After a while, Cheri and I approached the counter. She was looking for tongue rings or belly-button rings or maybe just ear-rings while I was trying to be discreet as I noticed that the man was even hotter up close. I’m a total failure when it comes to discretion. After about two seconds, the bearded beau made his way over to us.
“Do you have any other rings in stock?” Cheri—the former model who usually gets all the guys’ attention—asked him when he approached.
The handsome employee had been staring at me as and hadn’t seemed to notice Cheri—the model—until she spoke. He answered her a little too quickly, “No ma’am. Those are all we have.” Then noticing the “Pirate Girl” printed on my shirt, he spoke to me, “I see you like pirate stuff. We’ve got some jewelry over here that you might like.” ~Yeah, the most romantic first words ever, right?
Anyway, I let him show me some gaudy pirate jewelry that I never would have bought, but I smiled shyly, fishing for some words that would start a conversation or at least give me the chance to ask him his name—he wasn’t wearing a name tag, and I really hate when employees don’t wear their name tags. Cheri eventually got tired of the whole charade and began to pull me away from the stranger and out of the store.
“Somebody’s got a cru-ush,” she sang, as I struggled to get another look at him over my shoulder.
“You really think so?” I asked her, as she finally managed to pull me out into the mall.
“Duh!” I stopped walking right outside the storefront, and I could read the look on Cheri’s face like Sookie Stackhouse can read minds. It said, Kayla, you are so naïve.
“He was really cute,” I said, trying to get another look at him through the store window, but Cheri stepped in my way. She doesn’t like to be ignored. I continued, looking her in the eyes this time, “Really cute. Like, he was hot! Right?”
Cheri laughed. “Yeah. He was a hottie, and so your type.” She started to lead me down the mall at that point.
We got about another store length down when I did something very out of character: I planted my feet firmly on the ground and asked, “Maybe I should—do you think I should…give him my number?”
Cheri turned to me, her huge eyes blue with excitement. I had never done something so outgoing in my life—not without a ton and a half of backup. Cheri had once given my number to an attractive waiter for me, and she had no problem making the first move for herself. This was purely Cheri’s territory, never mine. I was shy and reserved; I would never give my number out to a stranger whose name I didn’t know. “Yes!” Cheri answered me with a devilish grin, and immediately started digging through her purse for a pen a paper.
I instantly felt the nerves coming up. “No,” I said. “Nevermind. Bad idea.”
“Kayla, this isn’t like that time with the waiter.” He never called, by the way.
“What? No, it’s—it’s just a bad idea. It’s crazy!” I started to walk off, and Cheri grabbed me. She had found the pencil and paper, I noticed with dismay or maybe pure terror.
“Kayla! That could be your future husband in there!” Cheri made what might end up her most accurate prediction ever.
“You’re right,” I said. “I should run away real fast.” I started to do just that, but Cheri had me by the arm and wasn’t letting go. (Did I mention that Cheri has a black-belt and military training?)
“Stop being weird,” Cheri insisted. “You’ve got to do this.” Cheri shoved the paper and pen into my hand and turned so that I could use her back to write on.
I scribbled down my name and cell phone number on the little sheet of paper, which might have been a Wal-mart receipt, then took a deep breath. Then I took another deep breath.
“Go!” Cheri insisted.
“Okay!” One more deep breath and I was off.
I walked back into that bong-selling, skate store, and spotted him behind the counter. He saw me as soon as I stepped across the threshold and gave me another sunshine-stealing smile; I felt my face burn blood red. I walked across the store as quickly as I could, shoved the tiny piece of paper into his hand, and gave him the biggest, brightest smile I could muster. His handsome face lit up with astonishment as if this was a first for him (I seriously doubt it was, even though he insists; he has a somewhat terrible memory, and I’m sure he just forgot about the other times). The look on his face made me smile even wider (I’m surprised by face didn’t split in half). Then I turned and walked out of the store without another word.
The very next day, he texted me. And that was all she wrote.
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