Sunday, June 24, 2007

Scenarios that I entertain in my head but I shouldn't because I'm not in high school anymore and should know better

Of course, all pertaining to GD. I think I watched a lot of bad sitcoms and 80s movies.

Scenario #1
I bump into GD unexpectedly. As usual, he looks effortlessly gorgeous. And on his arm is a similarly effortlessly gorgeous girl. She wears a tasteful sleeveless sun dress with a matching headband that pulls back her straight dark hair. She's the pretty girl who can pull off a sun dress with matching headband. I'm wearing my should've-donated-to-the-homeless clothes and my hair is tied loosely in a librarian bun. I am not able to escape as I've already been spotted so I have no choice but to walk up to the happy couple, sans man, and make nice.

"Hi," I say to them, and happily, they say hi back. GD introduces the effortlessly gorgeous girl as "my girlfriend."

I fake smile, fake laugh and fake happy. As my sense of decency forces me to chat with them more than one second, I realize, with horror, that not only is the girlfriend gorgeous, but also intelligent, funny and kind.

"She's enrolled in Harvard's JD/MBA program for the fall," GD says while reverently looking at her.

And ambitious.

"Nice," I reply, while thinking money grubbing capitalist whore.

"Yeah, I hope to use my degrees to expand this non-profit organization I spearheaded a couple years ago for kids with leukemia," she says. "My niece has leukemia now, but I think with more funding and lobbying, she'll be back in school in no time." And then she smiles that kind of smile you know isn't fake, the kind that you can't help but smile back at. As much as I want to, I can't help but feel myself like her just a little. So not only is gorgeous, intelligent, funny, sweet and ambitious -- she's making the world a better place. Could it get any worse?

"I'm so glad General Electric and Bristol-Myers gave me those grants, otherwise I have no idea how I could afford it!" she exclaims as if still relieved.

And poor.

Afterwards, I go home and go into party planning mode -- pity-party-planning, that is. It'll be a party of two. Me and a bottle of Jack Daniels. No cups. No napkins. I need mouth-to-bottle recussitation.

* * *
Scenario #2
I bump into GD unexpectedly. This time it's me looking effortlessly gorgeous. I'm having a good hair day. I'm not wearing the should've-donated-to-the-homeless clothes. In fact, I look like I got it going on. Effortlessly gorgeous man candy on my arm is optional. When you look this good, who needs a man to make you look better?

Of course, GD is still looking effortlessly gorgeous because he always is, whether he's wearing a ratty t-shirt with tattered jeans or gym shorts with flip flops. Anyway, being the mature and cool person that I am, I saunter over to him, say hi, and engage in artful chitchat. He is with his boys, sans girl. I joke with him and his boys, because I'm that girl, the fun charming girl who can chitchat with anyone anywhere anytime.

As I direct my attention to GD I can't help but notice something. Sometimes a girl can tell when a guy is so enamoured by her that he smiles in a peculiar way and talks to her as if there's something lodged in the back of his throat. (Granted, I myself have no idea what this is like but in Scenario #2, I do.) As GD smiles at me in a peculiar way and talks to me as if there's something lodged in the back of his throat, my cell phone chirps. It's a text message.

"I have to run," I lilt to him.

"Hot date?" he jokes weakly.

"I have to run," I repeat and hug him. "It was good seeing you again," I say.

"Yeah it was," he says.

I wave goodbye to him and his boys, walk away, leaving them all wondering why, god, why, did he let me go.

* * *
Scenario #3
One of my friends just got a new job and we're at a local watering hole to celebrate. While my friends are at the bar ordering lemon drop shots, I stop by the ladies' room to powder my nose and check for smeared eyeliner. As I head back to the bar, I survey the room and its rather unimpressive occupants. The jukebox finishes playing "Baby Got Back" with the familiar whip snap, and suddenly a familiar song comes on, "D'yer Mak'er" by Led Zeppelin.

And then I see him. GD. Leaning over his glass, in a baseball cap, t-shirt and jeans, chatting with some guys. I can't help but smile because the last time I heard the song was at his place, on a lazy Saturday afternoon, when he had it on repeat on his iPod. And I think he was wearing that same cap.

As Robert Plant croons "You don't have to go," GD for some reason looks up from his drink, looks around the room and sees me. And smiles. I smile back. He stands up and walks toward me. And as we make our way across the room, everything suddenly becomes slow motion and the ambient bar noise muffles into nothing but the song. In a moment, we're standing in front of each other.

"Hey," he smiles.

"Hi," I beam. "How you been?"

"Good, good," he nods, "how about you?"

"Good." I look around the room and nod. "Good song."

"I love this song," he says.

"I remember," I say, the song continuing in the background, "You hurt me to my soul."

"Good memory," he smiles.

"Nah. I just listen."

We walk over to a little table nearby, sit down, and catch up and chat. It's as if nothing happened, as if there were no memory of the Hamster Incident or the passive aggressive MIA bull shit, as if everything had been okay all along and still is. But I know it's not.

In the middle of the conversation, I realize that I have to ask him the question I had been meaning to ask him all along: "So ... what happened?"

He sits there for a moment and blinks a few times. I know he knows exactly what I'm talking about. "I don't know," he says to me, shaking his head. "I just ... couldn't anymore."

I nod, because I finally get it. "I see," I say.

"Hey, do you want a drink or something?" he says nodding his head toward the bar and pulling out his wallet.

"Uh, I can't. I better get back to my friends." I then gesture to the audibly cheerful group at the bar. "My friend just got a new job and there's a shot glass with my name on it."

"Oh cool," he says. "Congrats to her!"

"Yeah," I reply and stand up. He stands up too. God he still looks good.

"It was good seeing you, Yellow Gal," he says.

"It was good seeing you too," I say.

Then he hugs me for what appears to be the last time and says, "Bye, Yellow Gal."

"Bye," I say, and walk away.

* * *
Okay that's it.

I guess #3 is the "closure" scenario. Which, while more likely to occur than Sceniario #s 1 and 2, will still not occur.

Fiction is fun!

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