I like you, and I think that if you thought about it you'd know you like me too. (chapter three)

January 12, 2012

{continued from chapter two}

If there's one important fact we can glean from this about the mysterious sparkling universe that swirls around us it is that teenage girls are cold-blooded monsters who can and will form into an elaborately tiered mafia at the properly draping drop of a trouser. In the future I would suggest you avoid them at all costs, not like you probably don't already because of that squuuEEEEEEE noise they make to ward off predators, but just in case you were unaware: they are scheming, deceitful, and utterly determined. Consider yourself warned.

Where were we? I, a horrible terrible teenage girl with poor self esteem, in the throws of many very poor decisions in a row, had fallen deeply, madly, in lust with a pair of pants I saw twice. Unlike your more traditional romance, where there are wide eyed glances and heating pulses and whispered conversations, I simply up and decided that I wanted that thing and I would have it. With my team of girl-spies in place we moved forward with operation the very particular boy.

When the team handed over the final envelope which revealed the very particular boy I'd taken a shine to possibly had some type of girlfriend, it gave me pause. While I was undoubtedly (and alarmingly) prowlery, I was not one to mess with a relationship already underway. I begged them to investigate further. Every time I caught a lucky sight of him from across the hall the little wheels in my brain started spinning faster, and answers were required as soon as possible. I didn't have to talk too fast to get everyone to agree because social intrigue is fun. Try it sometime.

Here's the thing – when the apocalypse comes, and we're all hunkered down inside the corner market hiding from the teen girl mafia, we'll know exactly what they're up to. While they may excel at things like "information collection" and "peer manipulation" they have the covert operation skill of Billy Eichner in a street frenzy. So, when I asked my friends to please please, one more time, go and find out more about the very particular boy and PS this girlfriend situation, my god I'm going to die, ASAP, their technique was the following:

"Oh hey, very particular boy. This is like, a cool class or something."

"What? Um... yeah."

"Sooooo... do you have a girlfriend? Would you date a girl who's a junior? A blonde girl who likes you? Who's a junior? Would you? Do you think you would? Ha. Haha. Byyeeeeeee."

Annnnnnd scene.

The good news is when we're in our apocalypse bunker we can play Words with Friends at our leisure, completely without fear, because we'll hear the teen girl mafia attack coming from a mile away like elephants crashing through a summer art fair. Crack team, work!

I was able to overlook, and perhaps even admire, their pantsless-balls-forward technique because at least they returned with answers. Verdict: no girlfriend. Can we all breathe a huge sigh of relief now? No girlfriend. There was a girl, in my class, who purportedly wished she was his girlfriend, but as we all know wishes might as well be dreams that I can crush, which is as subtly as I can say I cheered HA-HA-HA THAT GIRL, he will be mine, inside my brain forty or fifty times each following hour.

As for the second part, Would he date a girl who's a junior, a blonde one, who liked him? Would he? It was answered with the ever-enlightening, "I guess. Wait, who?" And since prying straight answers out of teenage boys can be far more difficult than cracking into something very difficult to crack like a very tough nut, black walnuts maybe, I find those on the ground sometimes, we assumed this very brief non-committal response was code for, "YES HOW 'BOUT RIGHT NOW. I WOULD LOVE TO AND THANK YOU."

Meh. Why not?
Thus I put into action the following two-pronged attack:

PART ONE:

1. Memorize schedule of the very particular boy, so as to "conveniently" appear every time he had a free period.
2. Appear, as if by (cough cough... stalker) magic, each time he had a free period. Employ strategies such as but not limited to: looking adorable, laughing much too hard at jokes, talking three decibels too loud to attract attention, initiating flirty eye contact from a proper distance. Maybe. If we're getting bold. I probably wasn't.

Carried out simultaneously, PART TWO:
3. Beg friends to mention me in his presence at every possible opportunity, including such titillating and pertinent facts as: that girl! cute, wanting to date him, yesok?
4. Initiate this conversation with a different friend every hour on the hour to ensure he is reminded every hour on the hour, because subtlety is not a thing that existed in this time or place.

My final stroke of genius, which I came to regret almost immediately, was volunteering to paint the sets for the school musical. I knew that A). He was in the musical, and B). The musical met after hours with all kinds of promising opportunities for fraternization, i.e. long rehearsals with required attendance taking place in semi-darkness. I put those facts together and concluded that it was the perfect excuse to hang around in the very particular boy's general vicinity, offering him many more opportunities to talk to me. Which sounds god damned perfect! You know, besides the painting the entire set part. By myself. Mostly alone. But in battle, sacrifices must be made. I know this from playing Stratego, which I will have it noted, I always win.

After one week of gung-ho hard-hitting action the plan had two outcomes. First, the very particular boy was overwhelmed with a deluge of giggling girls asking him repeatedly if he would date me, to which he responded as if there was a beehive somewhere in the area. What's that... buzzing sound... Wait, what? Who? Second, I followed him around very stealthily while he went on with his daily activities taking zero notice.

– Okay, maybe I lied. There was a thing as too much subtlety. I think we've discovered where all the rest of it ran off to.

This is the point where we're all like, OH MY HELL, JUST MAKE SOMETHING HAPPEN ALREADY, MOVE IT ALONG. And to answer you, YES, this was exactly how I felt. Ha-ha. Ha. Isn't it great? Joke's on you! I was about to fly apart, what with all the covert glances and sneaky eye-looking, and my oh my he was so cute over there now look over here yes! Did he see me? No. I think he was looking at that poster. Wait– maybe he looked at me that time and then nothing happened. Nice pants though.

Let's collectively sit down, take me of the past by the shoulders, and dole out a good hard slap. Get it together, me of the past, what on earth are you waiting for. I was ashamedly too shy to make the first move but this whole standing-around-looking-cute thing was not working out, and there was something special about this very particular boy that I couldn't let pass. Plus, the longer I watched the more I noticed him talking to cool friends who also happened to be cute girls. The situation was crying out for drastic action, AND HOW.

{to be continued in chapter four}
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