He Likes Me, How Can I Screw It Up

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I was low and he was high. This is the best way to describe every single aspect about it. Had anyone asked why, I would have simply shrugged them off with my all purpose explanatory excuse of, ?Well, you see, I took one too many of those little ?happy pills? and now am stuck in this horrible little parallel universe of yours.? You see, it?s hard enough for me to simply go out in public without constantly apologizing for my very existence, let alone lay the burden of conversation upon anyone. So to merely glance at the opposite sex would send my already unhinged world to unavoidably collapse upon itself and on everyone around, which would of course plunge me to an even worse continuing lifetime panic, alien invading, attack. But besides that, I?m the pretty normal ?can?t talk to boys? kind of girl. I thought this quite obvious to everyone with my cool standoff-ish demeanor and angry disgusted look permanently stamped on my face. But no, as life played out, he couldn?t have been more oblivious, and I couldn?t have been more?. myself.


We were first aware of each other?s existence on the second week, of second semester, of the second year of high school. I had switched Spanish classes and managed to skip the first period class for half a month. Looking back, I can still clearly recall thinking to myself, ?Man, only one looker in the whole bunch?, as I sat diagonally across from him on the other side of the classroom. He was unbelievable. He was so tall, and lean, and tan; I?m pretty sure he was on the November issue of Sports Illustrated. I expected the worst since everything about him screamed jock prep. He wore Hollister, carried an arrogant smugness, and walked like he owned the school. God, how hot is that?!
On the second day he came over to my desk and smiled to me, so of course I instinctively stared him down with the promise of death in my eyes, and oddly enough, he slowly backed away. The funny thing though, was that he kept trying, the cocky weirdo. He hovered around me, stole random things from me but never admitted to it, and always found a reason to look in my direction.

I would see him again on my way to Chemistry. I pathetically looked forward to that moment every day. From all the way from the other side of the hallway, I would always struggle for the view to clear.


Then he made his first real move in gym, which seemed appropriate enough seeing as it was his domain. Music blared above, muffled by its own echo. I had just gotten into a full blown epic fight with my friend and was reluctantly chasing after her when I spotted him in the corner of my eye. He was alone, distant from the rest of the class, which was as usual as seeing the principal give his daily-televised strip tease. He shuffled nervously, his expression unsure, yet again in the norm with your average lunch lady being under forty, with a graduate degree and working out of the love for teenagers. His timing seemed to balance out the throbbing romantic ambiance flooding from the sweat sopped walls. Still about five yards away from her, and about two from him, he performed an act so obscene it baffles me still to this day. He talked to me. Well, not so much to me but at me. ?I like this song, don?t you?? he asked so intently. I stumbled, completely cut off guard at this bizarre occurrence but I kept walking refusing to believe that he would actually talk to someone like me. I saw him in the corner of my eye but, someone else must have been there that I didn?t see. I made myself believe he?d been talking to someone else. He stayed there staring, hoping, but I didn?t turn, I couldn?t. Instead I just continued on with my path, walking away from his last words of, ?Please say yes.? I so desperately wanted to say how cute he was for trying but all that came out was, ?Are you still mad? Get over it!? now one yard from her and ten from him.
I hated him. I hated him for wanting me exactly as I was. Something had to be wrong with him to want someone as screwed up as me. I could never like a guy who could like someone like me. I hated me and if he liked me then it could never work out. It disgusted me to know he would settle for someone like me. How does he not know how much better he can do? I especially hated myself for believing he did like me.
I loved him. I loved him for wanting me exactly as I was.


That limbo stayed between us for the last month of school. I loved and hated it, much like how I felt for him. I told my friends about it and they filled me with hope. We played the future lover game, MASH, and scientifically concluded we were meant for each other. Even without this irrefutable proof I knew he was the one for me. They all had at least one class with him and told me how he would never shut up during class, loved old movies, was a Beatles fan, had way too much money, and was in all honor classes even though he never acted the part. I found it funny how everything he said or did was so hilarious and sweet to me, but just annoying and irritating to them. Then as I envisioned double dates with them, they slapped me back into reality by awkwardly announcing that he had gotten a girlfriend last week.

I couldn?t stop torturing myself with hope. I decided that he was just on the rebound and I hadn?t given him a fair chance. So I came up with the perfect plan. I would actually wait for him at the end of class, look him straight in the eye, smile and say hi. It was the most brilliant scheme ever devised. Then everyday turned into a near miss. Until finally came the last day of school, finals. I ran out the class after racing through the test and waited. When I saw him I caught him by the hand so I couldn?t wimp out again and executed the plan perfectly. And as he parted his lips to open up his gorgeous smile to finally talk to me and not just at my indifference, that horrible succubus, also known as ?the most amazing girl in the world? as said he?s Myspace, came to take her rightful place at his side. He?s face froze, just as it was, and turned to give her my smile.

It hurt, but amazingly enough I lived to tell the tale. I realized after that, he probably maybe wasn?t actually the one. I don?t know why I went out of my way to make sure I?d die alone. I myself am still completely amazed by how much I?d manage to muck everything up down to the smallest detail. Hmmm? glaring at him that would be a great idea! Who thinks that? I know I probably would have just ended up hurting him even more had anything happened, but my friends insist that I can do better anyway. I can?t help but smile as I write that in summer school.

As disappointing as it was, and awkward to read; I don?t regret any of it. I know now to never let a good thing slip away. Also, glaring = bad, talking = good. But, most importantly, I really do need to start talking to everyone no matter how blindingly hot they may be. As nervous as I am, I need to man up! If I could get someone like him to like me, without having done anything, I can?t be that bad, or that fugly.
I ignored a guy who liked me (out of severe lack of self esteem, but I?m talking like none here, at all,), and when I finally wanted something to happen it was too late. As this experience is the epitome of the self-indulgent, insecure, little high schooler, here?s the clich餠cherry to top it all off; I still like him, and can?t stop thinking about him.





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