Good Mourning Rachael: Part 1

If I'm guilty of one sin throughout the writing of this blog, it's most definitely of not finishing a story. Now now, I know what you're thinking. "One sin? You also suck at spelling, grammar, character development and..." Yeah yeah, I get it, but just roll with me here. The problem is that hope and newness is easy to write. Disappointment is just, well, sad. Still, it seems that if this blog is to be the narrative of my life(Or some representation of it), then I could serve it well by finishing a story.

If you need to catch up on the first part of this story, you can do so by clicking here and reading from the bottom up.

I was pretty excited after meeting Rachael. I don't think I've ever had such a good first impression in my life. It felt like I had just met my best friend again for the first time. She was smart, funny, personable, and everything just seemed to "click" in a way that hasn't happened since I was too ignorant to realize that there was something other than "clicking". Oh yeah, she was also breathtakingly gorgeous. My worry, as always, was that I had said something stupid or scared her off.

Should I call and ask her to lunch again? Should I play it cool? Will that come across as needy? Should I be aggressive?

I was shocked two days later when the phone rang and it was Rachael, asking me to lunch again. Another hour long meal passed in the blink of an eye, proving that the first meeting wasn't just a random aligning of the stars. We parted ways, but this time my fears were put to rest. One time might be lucky, but twice in a row was something right?

The meals and good times continued on for a couple of weeks, and despite the fact that she was one of the most amazing women I'd ever met, I was steadfast in my romantic stance. I was not getting a crush on a girl who was so ridiculously out of my league.

Spurred on by either my frequent disappearances around noon, or the new ear to ear grin that was permanently plastered to my face, Sean decided to question me as to what was really going on.

"So... are you interested? Are you going to make a move or what?"
"I don't know. You know how when you first meet a crazy cute girl, and there's all this sexual energy you hold back?"

"Sure, I guess"

"Well, it's nothing like that. I mean... I'm attracted to her, but that's so secondary. I just really want to spend all of my time with her. When she's around, we're constantly laughing and... I don't know. It sounds cheesy, but just happy."

"That's not the girl you date bro," he said, pausing for dramatic effect. "That's the one you marry."

And that's when it sort of hit me.

Long time readers may find this hard to believe, but I had never been dumped in my life. In fact, every romantic relationship in my life had ended for the exact same reason: I just always enjoyed my personal space too much. I'm fond of saying, "I don't know how guys cheat on a woman. Who needs 2? I only want a girlfriend 3 days a week. I need a time share woman."

But it wasn't that way with Rachael. Every meeting left me hungry for the next, and every joke made me laugh a little more. She was like Zpizza. I never got tired of her.

Finally I decided I had to make a move. I didn't want her so much as I just always wanted her around. The medium hotness rule was thrown out, and one night as we lay next to each other discussing something silly I decided it was time.

A million things raced through my mind. What should I say? What should I do?

What didn't race through my mind was the fact that we were laying in complete darkness, and since I have yet to develop super power night vision or obtain retinal implants from a secret government experiment, I couldn't see a thing. I had never been more nervous in my life as I leaned slowly over, inching closer and closer.

I puckered up, and landed squarely... on the nose.

Shit

In a feeling that would soon become common for me with Rachael, nervousness quickly turned to embarrassment. She would respond with what would become the cornerstone of our relationship. She doubled over in laughter.