I love that people tell me their stories. My head is full of these memories, details, and endings that I've decided shouldn't stay locked in my head. Therefore, with no specific number in mind, I'll post one a day until I don't feel like doing it anymore or you beg me to stop. I say they'll be mostly true because I will change names and other details that would reveal the subjects' identities. I might also embellish to fill in details where the memory has gotten fuzzy. Before you ask, yes - some of the stories are mine, and while you're welcome to guess, I won't tell which they are. If you know me well and already know the stories, I'll ask you to just bear with me and not rat me out!
Mostly True Story #5: The Best Laid Plans?
Olivia was doing a study abroad semester in the United States. Being the incredibly beautiful girl with an accent, she didn't want for attention from the guys in her classes. Despite the abundance of attention, she had eyes only for Jake. He was far from indifferent to her, and the pair formed an attachment that was to last beyond the semester and continue after Olivia had returned to Italy.
Because this was before most people had Internet at home and overseas telephone calls were a luxury reserved for very special occasions only, Olivia embraced what she thought of as an old-fashioned romance. She wrote to Jake often, at least once a week, but frequently more. She awaited his letters with eagerness, and when they arrived, and they did regularly - albeit less so than Olivia's letters to him, she was happy and looked forward more and more to summer break, when she was planning to return to America to see him.
Finally, the time drew near, and she wrote to Jake to tell him she would be buying her plane ticket soon, and she asked him to confirm that the dates she was looking at were good for him too. A week went by with no response. Then another week went by. The end of the third week finally brought a response.
Jake's conscience had gotten the better of him, and the pages and pages of his letter explained to Olivia how he just couldn't allow her to spend the money on the trip, knowing that he really didn't feel anything for her. You see, her letters really boosted his ego. Reading them felt good, and so he wrote back just enough to ensure that the letters kept coming. It wasn't that he didn't care about her at all; it was just that he had no romantic desire for her, and as the months carried on, he couldn't ever seem to make himself tell her. He'd been sitting there hoping that she'd lose interest or that some other catalyst would take care of the deed for him, sparing him the necessity of hurting a friend.
At first, Olivia was heartbroken. She cried to every girlfriend she knew. Then, she got mad. She spent hours composing responses, then crumpling them up and throwing them away. Eventually, in a fit, she called the travel agent and bought a plane ticket. She knew where Jake hung out and had this beautiful plan all laid out in her head. She imagined herself strolling into the bar in her sexiest outfit, ordering a drink, and after taking one long, slow sip of it as she approached him, throwing it directly into his face and then leaving without a word.
Well, she put on that sexy outfit and showed up at the bar. She ordered a pomegranate mojito and spotted Jake at a booth on the far end of the bar - and he was with a girl, all the better. She grinned as she wound up for the toss, but then stopped in her tracks when her ears picked up the thread of conversation coming from Jake's mouth.
"...so trust me," he was saying to his female companion, who was tearstained and surrounded by a pile of tissues, "men are scum. No listen - I let this amazing girl, Olivia, think I was into her for way too long just because she stroked my ego. I'm not proud of it, but it happens, and that's what this guy is doing to you. We can smell our own kind and I'm telling you..." The rest of his sentence was cut off by the sputtering he'd succumbed to as ten ounces of top-shelf liquor and mint leaves hit him full in the face.
Showing posts with label mostly true stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mostly true stories. Show all posts
14 January, 2010
13 January, 2010
Mostly True Stories #4
I love that people tell me their stories. My head is full of these memories, details, and endings that I've decided shouldn't stay locked in my head. Therefore, with no specific number in mind, I'll post one a day until I don't feel like doing it anymore or you beg me to stop. I say they'll be mostly true because I will change names and other details that would reveal the subjects' identities. I might also embellish to fill in details where the memory has gotten fuzzy. Before you ask, yes - some of the stories are mine, and while you're welcome to guess, I won't tell which they are. If you know me well and already know the stories, I'll ask you to just bear with me and not rat me out!
Mostly True Story #4: The Cow Whisperer
The "my big, fat..." jokes were not spoiled on Claire when she started dating Aristaeus, who was just about as Greek as they come. They dated off and on for several months, but around the time Ari cited his not having been held enough as a child (did I mention that Ari was a psychology major?) to explain his intimacy issues, Claire was ready to accept that it was over.
Still, like you do when your love life isn't what you'd like it to be, Claire came upon Ari's name in her mental Rolodex and told me she was thinking of calling him up. She had, as the mind cruelly allows us to, romanticized the memory of her time with him and talked herself into believing he really hadn't been that bad. In fact, his little... quirks... had even begun to seem charming.
This is where I felt the need to remind her not only of the "not held enough as a child" thing, but of the last time he got drunk while they were dating. First of all, he drank and drove. Big no-no. If that weren't bad enough though, while he was driving drunk through some farmland, he had what he would later describe as a deep, spiritual experience. You see, he came across this cow... just standing there by the road, and well, all that wine Ari had drunk allowed him to really connect with the cow and see the cosmos in a whole, new... you get the idea. Maybe I'm naïve, but I like to think that most people, upon waking up the next day realizing that they'd had some drunken conversation with livestock, would either be embarrassed or at least work it into a funny story. Is that what Ari did, though? Noooo no no no no, he did not. He really thinks that cow was some kind of messenger of the gods.
The moral of the story: Beware the Cow Whisperers, the ones your mind turns to out of loneliness or sexual frustration, and not because they'd actually be the partner you're trying to convince yourself they could be.
Mostly True Story #4: The Cow Whisperer
The "my big, fat..." jokes were not spoiled on Claire when she started dating Aristaeus, who was just about as Greek as they come. They dated off and on for several months, but around the time Ari cited his not having been held enough as a child (did I mention that Ari was a psychology major?) to explain his intimacy issues, Claire was ready to accept that it was over.
Still, like you do when your love life isn't what you'd like it to be, Claire came upon Ari's name in her mental Rolodex and told me she was thinking of calling him up. She had, as the mind cruelly allows us to, romanticized the memory of her time with him and talked herself into believing he really hadn't been that bad. In fact, his little... quirks... had even begun to seem charming.
This is where I felt the need to remind her not only of the "not held enough as a child" thing, but of the last time he got drunk while they were dating. First of all, he drank and drove. Big no-no. If that weren't bad enough though, while he was driving drunk through some farmland, he had what he would later describe as a deep, spiritual experience. You see, he came across this cow... just standing there by the road, and well, all that wine Ari had drunk allowed him to really connect with the cow and see the cosmos in a whole, new... you get the idea. Maybe I'm naïve, but I like to think that most people, upon waking up the next day realizing that they'd had some drunken conversation with livestock, would either be embarrassed or at least work it into a funny story. Is that what Ari did, though? Noooo no no no no, he did not. He really thinks that cow was some kind of messenger of the gods.
The moral of the story: Beware the Cow Whisperers, the ones your mind turns to out of loneliness or sexual frustration, and not because they'd actually be the partner you're trying to convince yourself they could be.
12 January, 2010
Mostly True Stories #3
I love that people tell me their stories. My head is full of these memories, details, and endings that I've decided shouldn't stay locked in my head. Therefore, with no specific number in mind, I'll post one a day until I don't feel like doing it anymore or you beg me to stop. I say they'll be mostly true because I will change names and other details that would reveal the subjects' identities. I might also embellish to fill in details where the memory has gotten fuzzy. Before you ask, yes - some of the stories are mine, and while you're welcome to guess, I won't tell which they are. If you know me well and already know the stories, I'll ask you to just bear with me and not rat me out!
Mostly True Story #3: Touché
Ebony had, as many of us do from time to time in our lives with mixed results, fallen in love with her best friend. She and Darrel had known each other for years, and she finally realized that he was the one guy who'd always been there for her. Unfortunately, this realization came about after he'd started seeing Tiffany, whom Ebony had managed to avoid meeting for a couple of months by the time this story took place.
Darrel was an avid fencer, and had just gotten a job as the new fencing teacher at the rec. center. To support her friend and to spend time with him, Ebony signed up for the class. She was one of the first to arrive on the first day of class, and took a seat between the only other two students to have gotten there. One of them was half-asleep, but the other struck up conversation and kept it coming to pass the time until class started.
Once they were suited up in protective gear and had their swords, Darrel had the students break off into pairs, so Ebony and the girl she'd been chatting with chose to partner up. Through the course of the class, the two earned lots of stern looks from Darrel, as they just couldn't keep straight faces as they went through the motions of the exercises. Finally, as Ebony's partner had just stabbed the fencing sword into the padding over Ebony's heart with an emphatic "touché!" Darrel strolled over to have a word with them.
"Well, I'm glad the two of you have hit it off at least," he said to the pair, still holding their pose and suppressing giggles. Well, Ebony's giggles subsided as the staggering symbolism hit her: how ironic that it should be Tiffany holding a weapon (a blunt one, but still) to her heart after they'd instantly become friends.
"It's a good thing you never confided in your new friend how you felt about the teacher!" I said to Ebony when she told me this story.
"Yeah," she agreed, "if I'd done that, then I'd have just gone out to the freeway, laid down in the center lane and let nature take its course!" She went on to tell me that what she had done was get the hell out of there the instant class was over and tried to just go about the rest of her day.
She'd promised her roommate that she'd stop by the grocery store on her way home from class to pick up something to make for dinner. She got to the store, but as soon as she set foot inside, she realized that she'd been so shaken by her encounter with Tiffany that she'd completely forgotten everything she was supposed to buy. Of course, the battery on her cell phone was dead and she'd failed to write her shopping list down.
"So what did you do?" I asked her.
"I did what any sane, rational woman would do in that situation," she replied. "I bought cookies. Lots and lots of cookies."
Somehow, I don't think her roommate could blame her.
Mostly True Story #3: Touché
Ebony had, as many of us do from time to time in our lives with mixed results, fallen in love with her best friend. She and Darrel had known each other for years, and she finally realized that he was the one guy who'd always been there for her. Unfortunately, this realization came about after he'd started seeing Tiffany, whom Ebony had managed to avoid meeting for a couple of months by the time this story took place.
Darrel was an avid fencer, and had just gotten a job as the new fencing teacher at the rec. center. To support her friend and to spend time with him, Ebony signed up for the class. She was one of the first to arrive on the first day of class, and took a seat between the only other two students to have gotten there. One of them was half-asleep, but the other struck up conversation and kept it coming to pass the time until class started.
Once they were suited up in protective gear and had their swords, Darrel had the students break off into pairs, so Ebony and the girl she'd been chatting with chose to partner up. Through the course of the class, the two earned lots of stern looks from Darrel, as they just couldn't keep straight faces as they went through the motions of the exercises. Finally, as Ebony's partner had just stabbed the fencing sword into the padding over Ebony's heart with an emphatic "touché!" Darrel strolled over to have a word with them.
"Well, I'm glad the two of you have hit it off at least," he said to the pair, still holding their pose and suppressing giggles. Well, Ebony's giggles subsided as the staggering symbolism hit her: how ironic that it should be Tiffany holding a weapon (a blunt one, but still) to her heart after they'd instantly become friends.
"It's a good thing you never confided in your new friend how you felt about the teacher!" I said to Ebony when she told me this story.
"Yeah," she agreed, "if I'd done that, then I'd have just gone out to the freeway, laid down in the center lane and let nature take its course!" She went on to tell me that what she had done was get the hell out of there the instant class was over and tried to just go about the rest of her day.
She'd promised her roommate that she'd stop by the grocery store on her way home from class to pick up something to make for dinner. She got to the store, but as soon as she set foot inside, she realized that she'd been so shaken by her encounter with Tiffany that she'd completely forgotten everything she was supposed to buy. Of course, the battery on her cell phone was dead and she'd failed to write her shopping list down.
"So what did you do?" I asked her.
"I did what any sane, rational woman would do in that situation," she replied. "I bought cookies. Lots and lots of cookies."
Somehow, I don't think her roommate could blame her.
11 January, 2010
Mostly True Stories #2
I love that people tell me their stories. My head is full of these memories, details, and endings that I've decided shouldn't stay locked in my head. Therefore, with no specific number in mind, I'll post one a day until I don't feel like doing it anymore or you beg me to stop. I say they'll be mostly true because I will change names and other details that would reveal the subjects' identities. I might also embellish to fill in details where the memory has gotten fuzzy. Before you ask, yes - some of the stories are mine, and while you're welcome to guess, I won't tell which they are. If you know me well and already know the stories, I'll ask you to just bear with me and not rat me out!
Mostly True Story #2: Comfort Food
Maybe it's your mom's tuna casserole. Maybe it's your uncle's famous chili or the marinara sauce it took your grandmother all day to make. Whatever it is, it's the food that you try to re-create so you can close your eyes, and with the first bite be transported to a time when you were small and there was someone big who kept the world from being such a scary place.
Erica gets this craving every now and again for the strangest thing - white bread with King Syrup spread on it. Ask her why on earth anyone would want to eat that and she'll tell you it makes her remember a day when she was little. She doesn't have many memories of her grandfather, but there's one that sticks in her head as clear as crystal.
She was about six years old and staring into the refrigerator, looking for a snack, when her grandpa wandered into the room. He didn't say anything, just looked at her and raised his eyebrows and winked as he reached over her and got the loaf of bread from the top of the fridge. Erica shut the door and watched him reach into the cabinet, past a stack of crocheted doilies, some boxes of tea, various canned goods and a jar of pickles, to pull out the bottle of King Syrup.
He got out two pieces of bread, spread some syrup on each one, put the supplies back, and handed one piece to Erica. She sniffed it experimentally, then followed her grandpa's example and folded her piece in half and took a bite. She liked it! Grandpa had created a monster. Every time Erica visited after that, she wanted syrup-bread. She never ate it at home, even though her mom kept the supplies on hand.
It's been about 20 years since her grandpa died, but Erica has informed me that she has never once made herself a slice. She says she thinks about it every so often, and once, she bought a bottle of King Syrup, thinking she'd go home and do it, but she never did. She says she's afraid it'll offend her adult palate and ruin the memory - of this weird, yet wonderful tradition she shared with her big person.
Mostly True Story #2: Comfort Food
Maybe it's your mom's tuna casserole. Maybe it's your uncle's famous chili or the marinara sauce it took your grandmother all day to make. Whatever it is, it's the food that you try to re-create so you can close your eyes, and with the first bite be transported to a time when you were small and there was someone big who kept the world from being such a scary place.
Erica gets this craving every now and again for the strangest thing - white bread with King Syrup spread on it. Ask her why on earth anyone would want to eat that and she'll tell you it makes her remember a day when she was little. She doesn't have many memories of her grandfather, but there's one that sticks in her head as clear as crystal.
She was about six years old and staring into the refrigerator, looking for a snack, when her grandpa wandered into the room. He didn't say anything, just looked at her and raised his eyebrows and winked as he reached over her and got the loaf of bread from the top of the fridge. Erica shut the door and watched him reach into the cabinet, past a stack of crocheted doilies, some boxes of tea, various canned goods and a jar of pickles, to pull out the bottle of King Syrup.
He got out two pieces of bread, spread some syrup on each one, put the supplies back, and handed one piece to Erica. She sniffed it experimentally, then followed her grandpa's example and folded her piece in half and took a bite. She liked it! Grandpa had created a monster. Every time Erica visited after that, she wanted syrup-bread. She never ate it at home, even though her mom kept the supplies on hand.
It's been about 20 years since her grandpa died, but Erica has informed me that she has never once made herself a slice. She says she thinks about it every so often, and once, she bought a bottle of King Syrup, thinking she'd go home and do it, but she never did. She says she's afraid it'll offend her adult palate and ruin the memory - of this weird, yet wonderful tradition she shared with her big person.
Mostly True Stories #1
I love that people tell me their stories. My head is full of these memories, details, and endings that I've decided shouldn't stay locked in my head. Therefore, with no specific number in mind, I'll post one a day until I don't feel like doing it anymore or you beg me to stop. I say they'll be mostly true because I will change names and other details that would reveal the subjects' identities. I might also embellish to fill in details where the memory has gotten fuzzy. Before you ask, yes - some of the stories are mine, and while you're welcome to guess, I won't tell which they are. If you know me well and already know the stories, I'll ask you to just bear with me and not rat me out!
Mostly True Story #1: It Really Does Happen
This is the story that inspired this exercise, and I think it's one of the best things that's ever happened. It's a short tale, but a sweet one.
Maeve was 18 years old when she got on an airplane for the first time in her life. Her big sister Belle had left Ireland the year before to get married in America, and she'd asked Maeve to come and housesit for her while she and her husband went on a long trip away. Excited and nervous, Maeve arrived in California only to find that she instantly felt at home.
On her first day alone, she went out to explore the town. During her outing, she met Miguel, a Mexican-American guy about her age, who was newly enlisted in the Army. She'd never seen anyone so beautiful in her life, and she knew she wanted to be with him always. And wouldn't you know, Miguel saw her too.
When Belle returned home a few weeks later and met her new brother-in-law, she was shocked and convinced that Maeve and Miguel would never last. I have faith though. By the time I was sitting on the sun-porch, drinking iced tea and bantering with their parrot, Maeve and Miguel were expecting a visit from their youngest daughter, who was bringing her own daughter over for a visit. I think this marriage is gonna stick.
There you have it: love at first sight. It happened, and I swear that part is true.
Mostly True Story #1: It Really Does Happen
This is the story that inspired this exercise, and I think it's one of the best things that's ever happened. It's a short tale, but a sweet one.
Maeve was 18 years old when she got on an airplane for the first time in her life. Her big sister Belle had left Ireland the year before to get married in America, and she'd asked Maeve to come and housesit for her while she and her husband went on a long trip away. Excited and nervous, Maeve arrived in California only to find that she instantly felt at home.
On her first day alone, she went out to explore the town. During her outing, she met Miguel, a Mexican-American guy about her age, who was newly enlisted in the Army. She'd never seen anyone so beautiful in her life, and she knew she wanted to be with him always. And wouldn't you know, Miguel saw her too.
When Belle returned home a few weeks later and met her new brother-in-law, she was shocked and convinced that Maeve and Miguel would never last. I have faith though. By the time I was sitting on the sun-porch, drinking iced tea and bantering with their parrot, Maeve and Miguel were expecting a visit from their youngest daughter, who was bringing her own daughter over for a visit. I think this marriage is gonna stick.
There you have it: love at first sight. It happened, and I swear that part is true.
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