LA Idiot Tells a Story Part I

I’m going to tell you two similar stories. I’m going to have to break it up into two posts because they’re so long. I think it’s the epitome of my dating/romantic life to date. They’re not an uplifting stories, but maybe by telling everyone these stories it will help me get over this cycle of detrimental behavior. In this blog I’ve tried to talk about picking up women and getting to know women and just being single. But in reality, I am less of a pick up artist and more of a bumbling romantic, who is lucky to get one woman at a time. I love. I don’t settle. I go for what I want, no matter how painful it can be. This is who I am.

In college, between my sophomore and junior years, I had a crush. I call it a crush, but some would call it an obsession. Her name was Vicky. Vicky was a petite girl, standing no taller than 5’2″. She was absolutely stunning. A natural beauty who needed no make up. She was as beautiful at 6 a.m. as she at 10 p.m. Of course, her looks were an obvious attraction, but that’s not why the crush catapulted. There are always beautiful women but Vicky was different. My friends and even her friends thought she was crazy. I use that word too liberally, but Vicky was probably more difficult than the average girl. But I could see past that because I knew her. Vicky was just an amazing girl to me. We clicked immediately. We both had a goofy sense of humor, our interests were similar, and we had this indescribable connection. We could just sit around and crack jokes while watching trashy TV. At one point, she even reached over and picked my nose! That is an odd affinity toward someone. When we’d go out, I would even let her eat off my plate without a fuss (that NEVER happens). I used to call her my perfect pair of pants. That was the best way to describe her. (In case you don’t get the metaphor, it refers to the difficulties buying pants that fit well. It can take a long time, but when you do find that one pair of pants that fit perfectly, there is no feeling like it) Despite all the attraction and palpable romance, we never dated.

Vicky had just gotten out of a serious relationship, one that was not healthy. I met her during the waning period of this relationship and I wanted to her get out of the relationship so badly. When she finally did and we accelerated our time together, I thought I’d get my chance, to date a girl that I really connected with. Boy was I wrong. Vicky needed time, which was understandable. Yet, I figured that if I kept making her feel happy and loved that she’d finally decide that I was the guy she should be with. For months I tried to woo her, coming over late at night to lay in bed with her and talk. Does that sound pathetic in hindsight? Of course, but at the time, I didn’t care. Being with her felt amazing. And that’s what we’re all looking for right? Someone that just makes us feel good and when we say their name we smile. Vicky did that to me. One time I upset Vicky so badly, that she wouldn’t talk to me. In an effort to absolve this, I baked her a cake. It was the most pathetic thing you ever saw. I iced the cake before it cooled and the cake crumbed while I iced it and it looked like I had dropped the cake on the carpet and it had carpet fuzz all over it. It’s sad appearance was symbolic, mirroring my situation with Vicky. I wanted to date her so badly, to finally hold her, not as a friend, but as something more. However, Vicky had other plans. She failed to tell me that she was dating other guys. When I found out, I was devastated…heart broken (OK that’s a little bit of an exaggeration). Our relationship changed and there was a lot more drama between us. We both wanted to spend time with each other, but it was too hard. One drunken night as I held her hair back as she threw up she finally told me the truth, something I needed to hear. I remember it so vividly, “Idiot, I know you like me. I like you. But I can’t give you what you’re looking for.” I nodded, told her I knew and that it was OK.

We spoke only a handful of times the rest of our college years. I had to displace myself from her life completely to get over her. I had spent nearly an entire year trying desperately to get this girl to love me. Even when I knew she didn’t reciprocate the feelings, I did my best to change her mind. I thought I could win her over, but that never happened. Now Vicky is married and I sit here, blogging about how I relapsed and had another Vicky situation. Come back tomorrow for the second part of this post.