Bad Story Time

It's been awhile since I've written anything, so this is mostly shite. But I did get a Valentine's Day reference in, which is a stretch for me.


“You really need to tell her how you feel,” Mark said casually, without any of my prompting whatsoever.
“Tell who how I feel about what?”
“You know who I’m talking about.” It’s true, I did know who he was talking about, why he was talking about her was a completely different question.
“Do I?” He looked at me like I was an idiot… which was at least partially accurate.
“Ah, you must be talking about Michelle again. Why exactly are you infatuated with this girl?”
Mark drank his beer as if he hadn’t heard me and stared straight into the mirror across the wall.
I probed. “Do you have any reason at all?”
I knew better.
“I really don’t think this is an issue of my infatuation, it really seems like your issue. You’ve been pining over that girl for the last six months, and it’s making you miserable. You just have to make your move. Actually, you need to make any kind of move at all, just out of principle.”
“Says the man who has been in love with the same girl for the past 15 years.” I knew that this would at least partially change the subject, as Mark was adamant about his bachelorhood to the point of absurdity.
“I’m not in love with anybody but myself, thank you very much. I just happen to think Christine is a special person. And it hasn’t been 15 years.”
I thought for a moment on how best to keep this conversation away from my Michelle. Yep…
“How old were we when Christine moved into town?”
“I don’t know, sixth grade?” Bullshit, I’ll bet he remembered the day.
“Alright, and do you remember Valentine’s Day that year?”
“Not particularly.”
“Really? Oh I do, I remember your squeaky voice and how you wouldn’t shut up about the new girl. And you bought her a Valentine, even though we were all supposed to make them in class the day before. Mrs. Brown ‘everybody gets a valentine no exceptions!’” I mimicked her mousy screech. “So we all made ridiculously stupid valentines to pass out in class the next day, but you had to get one special store bought one.”
“So?”
“It was all lacy and perty!”
“Seriously, that was sixth grade.”
“Yep,” I responded, “and you haven’t gotten over her since.”
“Let’s say I concede that I had a crush on her when I was twelve, where are you going with this?”
“Let’s say you also concede that you have a thing for her now, even if it’s just a little hang up.”
“For the sake of argument.”
“Okay, how old are you?”
“32, just like you asshole.”
“So you’ve been smitten for 20 years, I was being generous earlier.”
Mark sighed his beaten sigh, which was always my favorite. It was the closest he’d ever give to a concession.
“I think she’s coming tonight, she usually shows up on Fridays,” I said.
“With Stewart, generally.”
“The tool.”
“To the nth degree.”
Just then Justin walked up. “Whose the tool?”
“Stewart,” Mark grumped.
“Ah, we still commiserating over Christine?”
“No,” Mark grumped again.
“Stewart being a tool has nothing to do with Christine,” I chimed in. “Stewart being a tool has something to do with God punishing mankind.”
“I’ll give you that.” Thanks Justin, I really needed your support. Tool.
“What we were supposed to be talking about is how Charlie here,” I’m Charles, “ needs to get off his ass and make a move on Michelle.” Mark redirected. “That’s what we should be talking about.”
“Ah,” Justin paused, like he always does. “You really ought to make a move Chuck, or I might just make a move for you.”
“And how is your marriage?”
“Solid as always.”
“You’re one lucky son of a bitch,” I shot back. “No way that you deserve Lydia. She must have some emotional self-esteem problem or something.”
“Get em while their young and don’t know better.”
“Yeah, you got married at 20, let’s say that I enjoyed my 20’s enough to not want to be you.”
“You sowed your wild oats, I started a family. It is what it is.”
“Cheers to that,” Mark toasted.
Yes, cheers to that. It is what it is. And we aren’t talking about Michelle, so I’ll take it.