A Final Word

If I could tell him anything, it would be that:

He has been the best part of my first year teaching.

He made those months bearable (especially during the slow downhill slide approaching spring break).

He gave me something to look forward to at the end of my long, looong days.

He made me realize that it is never too late to modify yourself into the slightly better version.


Before things change, I want these words written down. I mean them just as they are. No edits, no context, no revisions.

Season 4 xxvii: Three Strikes

Setting: Highway 53. Starbucks, Onalaska, WI

I have struck out. No wayward balls awarding me a walk. No bunts. No foul balls from lousy swings. Nope. 3 strikes. There is no way around it. I'm out.

Last Wednesday I was left hanging, so I put a question on the line and didn't get an answer. Swing and-a miss!

The following Thursday I took a swing with a quirky quip. I went after the ball with too much power and was left spinning with absolutely no contact.

Later that evening I tapped my shoes, wiggled my butt, leveled my bat and swung at the ball after it had cruised over the plate. Curve ball.

And the umpire shouts, "...OUT!"

Season 4 xxvi: De Nile

Setting: Acoustic, Eau Claire, WI

I have reconsidered my decision. While I would like Mr. IV to understand who I am and what I feel, I don't think I am prepared for the repercussions allowing him to read my blog will incur. I play it over and over in my head, and no matter how many times I rewind the tape, it keeps playing back pure destruction.

As Nicole and I sat, listening to The Eggplant Heroes (minus Pache), I felt the idiocy in my need to express myself. Most people shackle up the feelings and hide their true intentions. Why do I feel the need to be so different? Why have I made it my goal to rewrite the dating rules for a more direct, streamlined process? And what makes me think that this guy, of all guys, would respond positively to my in-your-face methods? I know so little. 

I guess that leaves me with these options:

1. Verbally revoke his request to read.
2. Ignore his request and hope that he never addresses the issue again (likely not to be an issue since communication has dropped to the Dark Ages between us).
3. Hand over the link and call him quits (because that is the most probable end game).
4. Plan some ridunkulous scenario in which I spring my blog and my neurosis on him in one foul swoop. In this case, I would force an awkward face-to-face encounter in which I would make him read (not necessarily in front of me) and respond. Maybe I would make him use my computer so he wouldn't be able to bail without facing me. Maybe I would give him some printed pages and require their return. No matter how it pans out, this scheme is elaborate, excessive and at the top of my list. (Yes, I know that is something to be concerned about. Apparently I do more than dabble in my personal drama.)

Season 4 xxv: Secrets, Secrets

Setting: Geneva Terrace

I have been keeping a secret. Only Emily and Katie know what I am about say, and they don't even know all of the details. This is one that I have been mulling over between soaking in the sun, digging into some good music, and avoiding all things work.

I told Mr. IV about this blog. He knows he is a character in something I am writing. He doesn't know what that means. Not yet. But, I have offered to let him read. At some point. He seems excited at the prospect. That shows how little he knows. I tried to warn him, without being obvious, but there is no way he could have understood.

I plan to pick the time wisely. I don't want to put Leslie out, so I must wait until the tennis season is over. After all, I have no idea how to gauge a possible reaction, and she has been enough of a casualty already. Maybe he will laugh it off and we will stay friends (this is really what I hope because I know the next situation is on the hell freezing over end of the spectrum and I don't want him completely out of my life). However, maybe he will read this blog and see something he didn't before. I don't know what I hope as a result of this outcome. If I am real honest, the thought of a relationship with anyone, ever... well, it feels a little like trying to breathe at 65 mph with your head stuck out the window.

And yet... I want to spend time with him. My fingers twitch to text him some stupid plan: coffee, board games. Anything really. I miss talking to him, and I miss seeing him.

I think I wrote this blog for him. The secret's out.

Season 4 xxiv: Vonnegut

Setting: Barnes and Nobel

In the perfect world of TV sitcoms, this one would be filmed with a little perspective from each season's leading man. With the right angle and some carefully crafted lines, Mr. IV would turn my text into a (harmless) merciless mockery of my falling for him. We would continue on as friends with this little mix-up to laugh at.

Maybe that is what will happen. 

I decided to keep my plans. Around 3:00 I finally had myself moving enough to shower, get dressed and head out to the mall. My mission was to find a good book for the remainder of my break. I spent nearly an hour and a half scoping one out. And that was all I scoped. In fact, I didn't even notice him until I was about 15 minutes from leaving the store. It was right then that I also realized I had no way of skirting around talking to him--he was the only one checking customers. 

I wove around the shelves a while longer, picking up and putting down Faulkner, Kerouac, and a few others. I finally settled on Slaughterhouse Five and without a second thought, beelined for the register. He had other customers and was stooped below the desk bagging up their purchase. I avoided eye contact until I couldn't. He started in with a joke, saying he wouldn't ring me up. I responded awkward (Big surprise. I know.). We chatted a little. He asked about my day. I exaggerated and said I had been cleaning. He made fun of my book selection and spent way too long writing my new remaining balance on my gift card. (Balance, circles and a star.) We said our goodbyes, and I was out.

Maybe my text will just be some joke to look back at. Then again, maybe this is the end. 

Good thing I can stray to Fiction.