downhill_spiral

At first, I had no idea what to do. Between Lauren's overt sexuality, Akil's awesome flirtatiousness, and Ashley's sweet sarcasm, I think that my perfect girl was sitting in that booth...just split into three pieces. And so, with no idea of what to do, I did nothing at all for several moments, except flick my eyes from one to the next.

Thankfully, I guess, Lauren had to leave for City Bar maybe ten minutes after Ashley arrived, so I didn't have to stress over her long. With just Akil and Ashley, I didn't really have to choose one or the other. I just did my best to focus my attention on Ashley -- what with her being, y'know, my date -- while trying not to ignore or offend Akil. After all, I knew that I was interested in Ashley; I'm just attracted to Akil.

Ashley can be very...mercurial. Usually, she's very sarcastic and somewhat standoffish, which I'm used to, and can deal with. Sometimes, very rarely, she can even be a little touchy-feely and...I don't know, erotic. The first (indeed, the only) time we kissed, she had been particularly alluring. This was the night that we laid in my bed, while my fingers played around her waist and the small of her back.

That night, though, she was even more flirty than I've seen in the past, except without the undercurrent of lust. It's the first time we'd ever bantered politely and warmly, without any motive aside from the sheer fun of it. That sounds weird, but trust me; it was nice.

So, that's what it was like for an hour or so. We joked back and forth, whispered into each others' areas, let our hands brush gently. At one point, when I'd moved to the other side of the booth, she put her legs on either side of mine, and I started tracing circles on her ankle, then her thigh. (I had to move back before I could find out how high she would've let me go.) Just when I'd settled into a nice routine, though, it got a little more complicated.

Akil's a funny girl and she seems to just radiate...well, fun. When she smiles, you want to smile. When she starts talking to you, you want to start listening. When she flirts, you want to flirt back. You're not making any conscious decision; you're just doing what your body naturally wants to do.

It begins innocently enough, with some jokes and innuendo, but when she lifted up her shirt enough to let me see her exquisitely formed abs, ( I knew trouble was brewing. )

This weekend, Adam came back from Seymour Johnson, ostensibly to see his girlfriend, Tara. Normally, we'd celebrate his visit by drinking foolishly large amounts of alcohol and passing out, but on Friday, we couldn't find anywhere to go. He called Tara, but she was feeling well.

For my part, I called Ashley, but she didn't answer. I wasn't really expecting anything, but still. It would've been nice to hear from her, or -- god forbid! -- to see her. Oh well.

Instead of spending time with our respective others, Adam and I (along with Patrick and Kasi) went to my boss' apartment where we played Resistance and Gears of War. It wasn't a bad way to spend an evening, but Ashley was on my mind the entire time. So, I resolved to call her the next morning and see what her plans for that evening were.

Of course, I slept until, like, three in the afternoon and would've completely forgotten to call her if Adam hadn't needed shoes from the Outlet Mall across the street from Ashley's job. Even then, we didn't leave until around 6:30 and the Outlet is perhaps thirty-five minutes away from my house. We were cutting it close, to say the least.

On the way, we dropped my brother off with his cousin, and then went by Emily's house (fully aware that Emily herself wasn't there) to see Kimmy and Mac. Neither of them was at home, either, but I did get to see Allie, Emily's eight-year old sister, for a while, which was nice.

When we left, Adam got a text from Tara asking what he'd be doing later that night. He jokingly replied that he'd be doing her. The actual exchange looked something like this:

Tara: What're you doing tonight?

Adam: You.

Tara: I asked you first.

So, she clearly didn't get the joke, or realize that he'd even been joking at all. At this point, we were on the road, so he asked me to do his texting for him. I was to tell her that he was going to buy shoes, and that he'd call her and hang out with her when he got back into town. I took it upon myself to start the text by dismissing the failed joke, which is exactly what I'd do if we'd been speaking in reality. The entire exchange, then, would've gone as follows:

Tara: What're you doing later?

Adam: You.

Tara: I asked you first.

Me (as Adam): Nevermind. Going to buy shoes now, hanging out with you later.

Now, that strikes me as a perfectly normal conversation. Even allowing for the possibility of confusion through texting, I can't see anything wrong there. Somehow, though, Tara found something so offensive in there that she immediately started in sniping at Adam and then couldn't be contacted for quite some time. More on that later, as it ties in with the overall story.

( And then we really hit the road. )

God, the headaches this girl gives me! She's hot, she's cold; she's here, she's gone. I'm not even that confused about her. I just can't act on anything because she changes moods so often and so fast. If she'd put some realistic lag time in there, somewhere, then maybe I'd be able to hold my own for some period of time. But, of course not!

If my brain is in this much pain after one night, then we must be dating. Or I died and am currently in hell. Or heaven. Christ.

So, I went to see Ashley at Staples tonight, on her second thirty minute break. There was much flirting, of course. There always is. Nothing physical this time, but that's probably because we were in seperate cars of necessity. We made plans to go drink when she got off, but they were pretty ethereal plans, as far as I was concerned. I mean, this is Ashley. I expected nothing.

Adam and I went to the Kickin', where we were shortly joined by John and his ex-girl Akil. Lauren, an old friend from Summerville High, even dropped by for a while, and graced us with her cleavage. So, even if Ashley hadn't called, I was still going to have a good night.

But, wonder of wonders, she did more than just call; she actually showed up!

Lauren left shortly after Ashley arrived, so I didn't have to worry about her getting jealous. I talked with Akil a little, but it was pretty much just me and the lady.

And...wow. A lot of extremely close contact, a lot of touching, a lot of lingering eye contact. Even a little hand holding, I think. Not really too sure about that, to tell you the truth. When I'd put my arm around her waist, she'd lean into it, if you know what I mean. At some point, her legs were on either side of me, and I have no idea how she pulled that off.

For a while, it seemed -- rather, it felt -- like we were dating. Only for a while, though.

After the Kickin', at around 11:30, we all decided to head to Player's Place for some pool. And as soon as we got there, it was like she became an entirely different person.

Hell, I don't know. Maybe she was just really focused on her game, I guess. If nothing else, it was damned unsettling.

So, after an hour or so of this treatment (the "don't touch me" treatment, that is), Ashley left to get some sleep for work, and I was left scratching my head. I've no clue what I could've done to warrant that particularly maddening behavior shift. Still don't have any idea, to tell the truth.

Oh well. I might write about this in more detail later, but I doubt it. Just thinking too hard about it makes my mind hurt.

Edit: OK, fine. I'll work on a more detailed version of this, and try to have it up sometime tommorrow.

I don't know why it's easier to talk about Ashley, but it is. Maybe because this is currently relevant, while Lauren's situation isn't? Maybe because I'm not so confused about this situation, as much as I'm upset about it? Who knows? Maybe it just is.

The short story about how I met Ashley is easy tor elate. She worked at the Blockbuster that I used to frequent with Adam and my little brother. We'd talk for a bit everytime I'd rent a movie. One night, for whatever reason, I asked her out. This was after, like, a year of rentals and returns, so I figured that, by that point, I'd been placed pretty firmly into the friend zone.

And it seemed like that was the case, for a while. We'd hang out, we'd talk, but it wasn't anything big. But then a few points started to bug me about the whole relationship...thing. Like, do platonic friends often find themselves in extremely date-like situations? Do they have often talk to each other like a couple? I don't know, maybe. But to be safe, I asked her how she felt and she said that we weren't dating because of how far away I lived (I was in Orangeburg, at the time). That answer sufficed for several weeks until I realized that she hadn't actually answered my question. I didn't ask it again, though. I figured that what would be, would be.

When I came home for summer break, she started coming to my house and we'd watch movies in my room. One night, I kissed her, after a ludicrous amount of foreplay. We made plans to hang out again that weekend.

That was six months ago. I haven't seen her since.

See, one of the things that I hate about dealing with her is that she will often, for discernible reason, vanish from the earth. This six month span is the longest, by far, but it's definitely not the first. In the past, she's gone dark for periods ranging from a day to two weeks. As I'm sure you can imagine, it's very irritating.

At the same time, I can never really be mad at her about these disappearances because she always returns with a perfectly good reason. Usually, it's medical. So whenever she reappears, I'm more concerned about her than upset about being stood up or whatever.

Anyway.

So I called Ashley this past...Saturday, I think? This was just on a whim; I didn't expect her to actually answer. But, answer she did, and we flirted for a while until she said that had to go, and that I should call her the next day. I actually laughed at her, but she assured me that she'd answer -- she swore, in fact. I figured that I had little to lose if she didn't.

It took her literally all day to do it, but she actually did answer the phone. Imagine my surprise.

We talked for an hour or so, basically just re-establishing the dynamic and feeling for any huge personality or lifesytle changes. She's still single, still endearingly sarcastic, still overly casual about the important things in her life. Seems more sexual than before (more on that in a bit), and more -- I don't know how to put this -- vulnerable. She's always been pretty guarded, but it seems different somehow.

Moving on, though. Under the usual level of flirtatious banter, she appeared to be driving towards sex, or at the least the topic of sex. Like, she mentioned that she'd gotten her nipples pierced, completely unprompted. (Come to think of it, what could prompt that particular revelation, anyway?) We talked about her tattooes, which aren't in any indecent areas, but are definitely near some indecent areas, y'know? And the erotic coup-de-grace for the whole conversation is that she really wants to play strip poker, in my room, with just me.

(That's pretty much a proposition, right? It's not just me?)

I don't know if the whole Lauren situation is just making me hyper sensitive to sexual innuendo or if I'm reaching too far, or what. Just felt unusual, is all. Not bad, by any means. Just...unusual.

That's where I'm at now with her. I'm actually supposed to see her today. I guess we'll just have to see how this goes.

-Jonathan

P.S. No, Mousey, I haven't forgotten to write about the Lauren story. I'm still working on it, but it should be up. Eventually.

Dear Pink Panther,

I often find myself wondering how different my life would be if I'd gonet o a different college, or hung out with a different crowd, or dated different girls. There are parts of my life that I enjoy, obviously, and there are parts that I hate. Right now, as is often the case, there are more things pissing me off and bringing me down than are uplifting me. C'est la vie, i suppose. Que sera sera.

Brian tells me that he had sex with this girl, Cori, the other night. I guess that's good for him. I mean, I realize that my job here is to be supportive and to generally cheer him on. But, on the one hand, I'm jealous; on the other, I'm worried.

My jealousy is easy to understand. I'm lonely, and that loneliness doesn't show any signs of abating in the near future. While I remain the 'cute boy' or the 'sweet guy,' I have to listen to people like Jessica tell me how hot other people are. I don't think anyone's ever going to see me like that, but anyway. At least he and I were both single, so I didn't feel quite so isolated. Now, he's got this girl clamoring for sex, and here I am -- at home, again, in my jail cell of a room, slowly giving up hope of anything better.

I'm worried because this was allegedly his first time, and I can see him getting addicted to the ass. Just because my first time was far from the best doesn't mean that I assume sex will suck for everyone. The slight vibe I'm getting from him already is making me feel like it's too late. He was difficult to pin down when he was dating Jessica, and he wasn't even sleeping with her. I'm sure that Cori will be no less monopolistic.

(Looking back on what I've written so far, I'm starting to think that my biggest fear isn't even dying alone. I'm more afraid of being left behind. Or maybe I'm afraid of not fitting in. I'll think more aobut this later.)

( I hate living in S'ville, by the way. )

There was this guy on Open Diary that I used to read, name of The Earthbound Kid. Some of you might actually have seen his stuff before. If you haven't, I think he's a very good writer. Hell, he's even inspirational. He's largely responsible for a lot of my writing style.

This is wildly off topic, though.

There was this guy on Open Diary that I used to read, name of The Earthbound Kid. The name comes from a fairly popular RPG for the SNES, but the writer used it literally. Every entry that he wrote in his journal was constructed as a letter to Neil Armstrong from a boy who was stuck on earth, and envied Neil Armstrong, the man in the moon -- thus, the Earthbound Kid.

He didn't write often. That is to say, he didn't post often. The lengths of his entries were astounding. At first, he broke them into smaller pieces and posted them that way. Eventually, he gave up entirely and linked to a different website were the entry could be read in full. Between the simple size of his work and the depth of what he was saying, I can imagine that it must have taken him weeks to construct each entry. But when he did post, it was incredible.

My notes and entries and musings tend to be more overtly intellectual, but the Kid wrote, he would just talk about things that were happening in his life. Sometimes they'd be ordinary things. Sometimes they'd be extraordinary. He basically treated Neil -- and, by extension, the reader -- as a pen pal. But each story would also tie into something grander, and by the end of each entry, I was overwhelmed by the larger meaning. It made me feel like I should be doing more in my work.

This all took place years ago, and I don't think I've yet lived enough life to really see the types of connections that the Kid saw. I'm still working on that now, honestly. I can see the connections in the lives of others, but it takes all of my skill just to stumble blindly through my own. I envied him for his incredible insight then, and I'm still jealous of him now.

( This is what my life was like, while he was still active on Open Diary. )

The problem with writing out a script for a gunfight is both simple and obvious: the speed of gunplay belies the narrator's ability to describe. For example, a scene like this...

Daniel took in a deep breath and felt something settle in his chest. At the same time, the now-familiar battle chill spread across his skin; his fingers twitched towards the handle of Sylvari and it took a supreme effort on his part to stay his hand. At the other end of the street, he saw that the swordsman was meeting his gaze steadily, waiting. At an almost imperceptible nod (the assembling crowd noticed nothing at all), Daniel pulled his heavy gun free from the holster, blindingly fast as always, and fired off three quick shots.

...now, that entire paragraph actually encompasses, like, ten seconds of story time. Ten seconds! If it takes that long to write a fight intro, the actual battle could be pages long. Ask anyone who's ever been in a real fight. Those things go by really fast.

If you add in bullets, how could the fight last any longer?

More specific to the problem of my story (and perhaps much more difficult to accurately assess and deal with), how am I supposed to come up with different weapons or skills for Daniel's rivals, if I'm stuck in a western era world and these rivals have to be legitimate challenges for the heroes? Daniel's only going to get stronger and more talented as time passes. I've already built in a one- or two-time use deus ex, but I'm still going to need more than that.

So far, I've got the obligatory samurai, a set of twins, and a reformed monk (who is still going to die, I have no mercy for characters that I've already decided to kill.) Sword/gunfights are fairly easy to write.

Jin stepped to the very edge of Daniel's vision, pivoted so that the bullets missed him (one nicked his arm, but the samurai didn't react at all), and brought his sword around in a wide, sweeping curve. Without pause for thought, the gunslinger fell backwards and the blade passed within an inch of his nose. As soon as his back hit the ground, he fired off the last two shots in his chamber (Jin neatly deflected one, and the second lodged itself into his shoulder), and then rolled towards the tavern door when Jin stabbed his sword into the ground where Daniel's head had been.

But I don't really know how to handle the twins. Maybe I should hide the fact that there are twins until the last second?

( But how would that go? )

Also, while I'm thinking about it, recommend music for me to download/buy, please! I'm trying to fill my iPod as soon as possible here.

I'll write an actual entry sometime soon.

While cleaning my room this past weekend, I found a notebook that I used to write in my freshman year. I only used it for about a semester, and only half of that semester's writings actually had anything to do with academia. Instead, I filled it with random sketches and sentences about life and how I was living it. Just reading it made me feel good inside (I'm so rarely pleased with what I write), and so I'm going to excerpt one of the things that I wrote back then, and then probably copy out in full the two vignettes that I wrote last night and on Friday night. So, this is like getting three entries (or maybe two and a half entries) for the price of one!

( How do I write? )

( Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll )

( The Inescapable )

No, for the record, I'm not high. It's just the name of the song I'm listening to.

I always feel bad for not updating as frequently as I'd like. It isn't even like I don't log into livejournal quite often to read up on everyone else's LJ and occasionally comment. I'm just never in the mood to write my own entries, and when I am in the mood, it's to bitch more often than not.

At any rate, everyone is wished belated Merry Christmases, and Happy New Year's. If you didn't have a Merry Christmas or a Happy New Year...well, that's too bad. You'll just have to go back in time and have one, because I've declared it to be so.

I used to have a four gig iPod, but it got stolen around the middle of last semester. So, for Christmas, I took my paycheck and bought a thirty gig video iPod to replace the one that was taken from me. Take that, theives! Not only do I survive, but I come out even stronger!

That was actually my best gift. Other than that, it was business as usual at the household: new shirts, some jeans, and an argyle sweater. I've never worn one of those in my life, so I don't know what inspired my father to get one for me, but there you go.

New Year's was okay. My coworker, Kasi, has a friend who I think is quite cute, and so we invited Lauren to come to a party that my friend was supposed to be throwing. Only, after our hour long drive out to where the party was supposed to be, we find out that it's a collection of rednecks with whiskey and semiautomatic weapons.

I only wish I was joking at the semiautomatic weapons. When I asked Reggie about it, he deadpanned that "AK's aren't exactly legal." As you can imagine, we quickly left that party.

On the way back, my boss (who was hanging out with the whole lot of us) suggested that we just go the store and hang out there, which was pretty awesome. Videogames plus girls plus alcohol equals a pretty sweet evening, in my book. The only downside was kicking my boss in the face while under the influence, but he took it remarkably well and my foot only hurt for a little while.

Uh...I'm back at school now, which is good and bad. I like being here more than I like being home, but college is such a social thing that I feel drained sometimes just walking around on the yard. So many expectations to meet. It's weird. At any rate, I still have fun here, and I'm looking forward to when the rest of my circle gets up here.

This was always going to be a random entry, and so it's just going to end, without any real conclusion.

Like this.

So, I decided to do it. I'm going to do everything I can to write a novel in a month, as per the rules of NaNo.

Interestingly, I'm going to write about my friend Liza. We've become a lot closer since she moved to Los Angeles and her life, as it's been revealed to me thus far, is incredibly interesting. We might be able to come up with something decent, she and I.

Wish me luck, guys?

Somehow, I knew this wasn’t meant to last.
Flames this bright burn out too fast.
But if this won’t last until the morning light,
Then damn the day. Give me the night.
The sun can chase me across the earth,
And still I’ll run for all I’m worth.
These moments fade away too soon;
Touch them, and they disappear like dreams.
The only thing that remains the way it seems,
Is how our fingers weave together beneath the moon.

If I had the power
I’d make every hour midnight.
All clocks would stop at twelve,
And the stars would spread across the skies,
Lay their light across these houses where we dwell.
At that time of night, you can almost taste the air,
And it’s rare for clouds to cover our moonlight.
When else can you learn how silence sounds?
As darkness falls around us,
We can share the secrets we have found.

Despite my wishes, though,
The sun will rise and blind these eyes
With dazzling light.
If I could fight against these things,
If I could lift my voice and sing the words
Which would stop the day,
Then even now my soul would stretch to reach that song.
Instead, I’ll hold you close until we finally part
And go our separate ways. The memory of your fingers against my face
Will have to keep me sane.

I'm about to run out, so I can't write very much. Still, I found this interesting and thought that I should share it with you people. It serves as a handy warm-up for the next entry I need to write, anyway.

I've avoided any sort of significant social contact with people for about nineteen years. It's mostly due to fear. I've gotten so good at hiding that fear, though, that I occasionally forget about it myself, until it rears its head and paralyzes me.

For the first time in a very long time, someone actually called me out on this. Granted, they were incredibly drunk and probably had no idea what they were saying, but it stuck with me. Why, you ask?

You'll have to wait until I get back from the 'ville this weekend, and back to my laptop.

I'm finally finished with that series! Like I said, it's been private for weeks now, but I just got around to wrapping things up. Hopefully, you guys liked it, and I'm dreadfully sorry that it took so long.

I'm horrible with HTML, so as soon as someone tells me how to post my car wreck pictures, I'll do that, as well as post a summary of what happened. I'm sure you're all waiting with baited breath, right?

It's late, but I wanted to get out a celebration entry. Sorry, guys. I'll write more as soon as I can; I'm going to a Mudhouse party later tonight, so I'll probably have a story for you, then.

For those who have been wondering (I'm sure that there are so very many of you), I'm still alive and all. I've just been busy with moving back onto campus and dealing with the registration process to write. Although, for what it's worth, I've had about half of the final 'Weekend' entry posted here for a month or so, albeit private. I'll get to work on that as soon as I get internet up and running in the room, so you should be able to expect that to finally be finished by the end of the week. Hopefully, it won't take me any longer than that to fix things with IT. Or to kill someone and be shipped off to the nearest penenitiary. Whichever comes first.

Nothing really interesting has happened since I got back to school. The new crop of freshmen are almost unbearably stupid and eager to please, so I've had a hard time holding myself back, but that's really just to be expected. I had some interesting times in the week before I came back, though, and you'll just have to wait until I get off my lazy ass and start writing again.

Oh! I got in a really bad car wreck recently, but I'll get around to posting the pictures of that around the same time that I get the internet up in my room. You'll just have to wait.

On Monday, Jerome called to begin the planning process. At the time, Christine was visiting another of her friends, but she'd already expressed a desire to spend some alone-time with Rome. Of course, I was eager to see Jillian again. Jillian was actually in a bible-school class when we started setting things up, but she left the church at a little after five, so we didn't have to do too much work without her.

Since we all wanted to meet, the hardest part was the coordination. Rome didn't know how to get to my place, while Christine and Jillian were forced to find some way out without alerting Jillian's mother to their plans. I could borrow my mother's car, but only once, and I needed to know exactly what I was going to do before I left the house. We all agreed that Adam's house would be the best meeting place. Jillian and I already knew our way around (read: to the empty bedroom), it was reasonably private, and we could drink there without fear of reprisal or discovery by actual adults.

We played around on our phones for an hour, maybe, until our plan were finalized. Jillian was to pick up Christine on her way home, and then wait patiently for the earliest opportunity to get out. Her mother, while still inclined towards over-protectiveness, wasn't anywhere near as bad as her father, so the standard "we're going to a movie" line would suffice. My job was to pick up Jerome and bring him out to Adam's home. I think we might've planned for everything to happen around nine that night. We didn't want Jillian to get caught or get into trouble, after all.

Rome didn't call me until eight-fifteen to let me know that he was ready. More than that, he and a friend were at Target purchasing some Coke to keep my vanilla rum company. This actually worked out well. Thirty minutes or so before he called, Adam let me know that his roommate had drunk most of the rum I'd left at his place on Sunday. Since I had to go into town to buy some more alcohol anyway, I just told Jerome that I'd meet him at Target and escort him back to Adam's. Right after I hung up on Rome, I called my twenty-one-plus year old friend John, and asked him if it would be possible for him to help me out. He didn't have a problem with it, but he was working at the time, so I'd have to wait until he got off. There weren't really any other alternatives, so I agreed.

At Target, I ran into Kim. Kim is stupidly attractive, as well as funny, and I've been interested in here since the first time I saw her (which, for the record, was weeks before any of this happened). Kim and Jerome know each other from high school and they had been talking about his plans for the night. When I arrived, Kim fairly cornered me and started asking about this 'party' that Jerome and I were throwing. She wanted to know if she could come.

I knew that telling her 'yes' would only serve to further complicate an already messy situation, but I simply couldn't tell her 'no.' If nothing else, I didn't want to alienate her by not inviting her to a 'party' (even though it was originally supposed to consist of two couples in seperate rooms doing their own things). So, I acquiesced.

Rome must've seen me talking to Kim about coming over, because I had barely left the store when he started talking about how his friend (Bruce) had driven him around all day and wanted to stop by and relax for a little bit. Since I'd just caved into Kim's request, I didn't really have any sort of leg to stand on to tell him no. Now, instead of two couples, it was two couples and Kim and Bruce.

( I can skip a bit here. )

Gillian called me late on Sunday night, wondering if Jerome and I wanted to hang out with her and Christine. Of course, I was up for it (considering that I'd spent several hours attempting to make my phone ring through sheer force of will) but I restrained myself from speaking of Rome's behalf. Gillian didn't directly say as much, but she hinted that Christine specifically was looking forward to spending some personal time with Jerome, and so I suggested my friend's place as a potential hang-out spot (read: a house with enough room for two couples to...yeah). Gillian leapt at the idea, and asked me to call Rome to see what his plans were. While I was doing that, she was going to tell her father that she and Christine wanted to catch a late movie at some theater, somewhere. I was mildly amazed that she'd taken so quickly to, well, lying, but I said nothing.

At first, everything seemed like it was going to work. I should've known better than to expect that. First, upon calling Jerome, I found him massively noncommital about whether or not he'd be able to attend. His father was home, which restricted his mobility greatly, for some reason I've yet to understand. Further, when Gillian called me back, she added to my list of bad news. Her father had apparently denied her permission to go out so late at night (by this point, it was almost ten-thirty). I was upset, but not surprised, by this turn of events. Granted, I wanted to see her so badly, but I reasoned that it wasn't worth risking a massive fight with her family over.

Or so I thought. We'd only been off of the phone for a few minutes when Gillian called me back to let me know that she and Christine had talked it over, and decided to just sneak out of the house at their earliest opportunity.

Like I told her, I was definitely on the fence about her rapid-fire corruption and the accompanying actions. On the one hand, this girl was supposed to be an innocent, and she had no experience at all with being bad. If she were to be caught, it would've been absolutely horrible, and she was very likely to make the types of mistakes which get people caught.

On the other hand, seductress-Gillian was TEH HAWTNESS. Beyond that, for someone with so little actual experience in being bad, she displayed an alarming amount of aptitude for it.

So, I told Gillian that the decision was totally up to her, and that I wasn't going to influence her one way or the other. She opted to run the odds.

About an hour and a half later, Christine called to let me know that Gillian's father was nodding off, and that I should probably start heading in their direction. They were going to leave the house and meet us at the end of their street. Adam and I left my house, and made it to their neighborhood in a little under twenty minutes.

Along the way, I called Rome again to see if he was ready, only to discover that he had all but fallen asleep! Upon further investigation, I found that he actually had something to do in the morning with his family. I wasn't going to pressure the man into blowing off his grandmother, so I let him go and resolved to see him the following day, if possible.

When we picked the girls up, I quickly realized that Christine wasn't going to take Jerome's absence as well as I had. As soon as she found that he wasn't going to be at Adam's house, she started complaining to Gillian about all manner of things. The main thing she returned to, time and time again, was that she'd explicitly told Gillian that she wasn't going to come if Jerome wasn't going to be there.

(I'd like to take a moment to note that I found this to be extremely poor form. Personally, I'm willing to spend an evening alone if it means a close friend gets to be with someone they like. Maybe that's just me.)

Between Christine's sporadic outbursts, there was an awkward silence that began in the car and carried into Adam's living room. Christine was pissed at Gillian because, for once, Gillian had the boy. Gillian didn't want to further aggravate her friend by leaving her to make out with me. I didn't particularly give a single shit about what Christine wanted, but I didn't want to risk alienating Gillian by being too aggressive about anything. Adam was just there.

We took a few shots, which helped loosen the mood a tiny bit. Gillian, of course, had never taken shots before, though she handled them admirably.

( Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. )

I left my house at seven-thirty on Saturday, ostensibly to pick up Jerome, Christine, and Gillian from their houses. (We had decided earlier that I should be the one to drive, since Gillian's parents are psychotic enough to actually check the mileage on her car.) After I got on the road, though, Jerome called and let me know that he was still in Charleston proper, and that he wouldn't be home for a little while. To pass the time, I went by Perkin's, to talk to Adam and for other, less intelligent reasons. As it turns out, I don't function as well as is possible without a little bit of emotional pain to go off of. Sadly, Kristen wasn't working that night, so I had to settle for mixed signals from a girl at Matt's.

Jerome called me after about ten minutes, and I went out to his house, where I was supposed to meet him, as well as the girls. I got there earlier than they did, and I spent that period of time trying to solidify my plans for seducing Gillian and listening to Maroon 5 at top volume. I only had about five minutes before she arrived, and we waited outside for Jerome.

As soon as I got out of my car and saw Gillian, I realized that she really is very cute. She has this habit of hiding it, through clever misdirection and loose clothing, but Christine had done her very best to make Gillian into an object of adulation, and succeeded admirably. Gillian must have noticed my appreciative stares, because she blushed a little bit, and admitted that Christine was primarily responsible for her appearance. I may or may not have thanked Christine for that; if I didn't, I certainly thought about it.

When Jerome finally got there, at around eight or eight-fifteen, we started our long, long drive to Myrtle Beach. The ride itself was reasonably uneventful: a few interesting jokes, some cleverly veiled comments, Jerome's guide to successful clubbing, and so on. Gillian actually threw out a few notable one-liners, but they only caught my attention retrospectively, after everything had already happened. At the time, I didn't think anything about them.

We would've made it to Kryptonite as early as ten-thirty, maybe, if we hadn't gotten lost. As it was, we showed up a little after eleven, when the line to enter was starting to get a little long. As we pulled into the parking lot, I was struck again by the sheer magnitude of the club. Kryptonite is not a small building. Sitting next to Planet Hollywood, it still manages to impress, and it was certainly impressing me right at that moment. Gillian seemed equally awed, although Christine and Jerome were making a ponit of feigning a casual disinterest.

Upon entering the club, I noticed that my friends had not been exaggerating in their descriptions. It was exactly like walking onto the set of a music video. There were two massive screens above the stage (did I mention that there was a stage?), alternately broadcasting videos from past nights and footage from the dance floor. There was the dance floor, itself, a massively sprawling affair practically glutted with college students. On the stage, there were what I've affectionately dubbed 'Coyote Ugly Dance Girls,' clad in tight jeans and short tops, dancing and pouring shots for whoever wanted one.

And, dear God, the girls. I've never been so amazed or awestruck. Here were girls of every possible race and creed. And, impossibly, they were all gorgeous. I think I might have cried a little bit.

Sufficed to say, I was stunned, but it took me only a few short moments to regain some level of composure. Further, I realized that if I was stunned, then Gillian (who had never been to any club before) was certainly going to be astonished almost to the point of insensibility.

( Thus, you can imagine my escalating surprise when Gillian grabbed my hand, pulled me onto the floor, and started to dance with complete abandon. )

(This story really starts on Saturday, in Myrtle Beach, at a club called Kryptonite. What you're about to read, however, is necessary backstory, and there's just too much of it to fit into parenthetical statements throughout the story proper.)

My friend from Claflin, Jerome, called me at work last Friday to let me know about a potential double date situation. Apparently, someone he knew from Idaho (Christine, by name, although I didn't find out her name until several hours later) was in town, and she was looking for an excuse to hang out with Jerome. The only problem was that neither one of them had access to a working vehicle, excusing Christine's anonymous friend who had to work at five that afternoon. Therefore, Rome wanted to know if I wanted to find a girl to take out, and thereby save him from exile due to lack of a car. I let him know that I would try my level best, and that I'd call him back with more details as soon as there were more details to be given.

Originally, I'd hoped to go with my friend Kristin, who had tentative plans to visit me in Charleston anyway. (By the way, Kristin is the subject of her own very interesting summer tale, but that's going to have to wait until much later.) Her family was in Columbia, though, and so she couldn't get away. We chatted for a bit, and after we'd hung up, I took a moment to skim through my phone book for anyone who might have been interested in a slightly more than platonic relationship. On a whim, I stopped at the name of a girl I'd met at Perkin's, a Gillian. She and I had talked every now and again since I'd met her, and we'd had some fairly lengthy conversations while I'd been away in Orangeburg, but I hadn't actually seen her in a year or so. Plus, she has always been miserable about answering her phone or returning phone calls that she's missed. That might've been a sign, now that I think about it, but I blithely chose to ignore it as such.

Still, she's cute and funny, so I hazarded the call, and was pleasantly surprised when she answered on the third or fourth ring. We began with the idle small talk: 'How are you doing?' and 'What have you been up to these days?' When I asked her what her plans were for the evening, she commented that she had a friend from Idaho in town and that she would probably be hanging out with her for the rest of the weekend. For a split second, I laughed internally, and asked myself what the odds were that I'd know two people who had two seperate friends from Idaho in town.

Then I thought about it, and remembered that, with my luck, that sort of thing is almost commonplace. As it turns out, I know Gillian through Perkin's, she knows Christine through middle school, Christine knows Jerome through high school, and Jerome knows me through Claflin. Yes, I'm quite aware that the odds of this sort of thing happening due to a random phone call which I didn't even expect to get answered, but that's just my life.

Sadly, though, Gillian asserted that she still had to work at five, and that after she got off work, she'd made plans to retrieve the sixth Harry Potter book. I asked if she'd made any definite plans for the next few days and she casually said that she was probably going to be going to a club that Saturday.

( You'd have to meet Gillian to understand my shock. )

If life is equal to the variable l, and easy is equal to the variable e, THEN l is not equal to e.

If love is equal to the variable L, and l is equal to L, THEN L is not equal to e.

Nothing worthwhile has ever or will ever be easy. By its very definition, worth is defined by equality in value to something specified. Since you cannot define a word with that same word, we can assume the following: if value is equal to the variable v, and worth is equal to the variable w, THEN v is not equal to w.

Love, then, is only worthwhile when it can be compared to something of equal value. But what could possibly be of equal value to a pure and honest love? This can be answered, somewhat childishly, by referring to Full Metal Alchemist's First Rule of Alchemy, which states that, in order to gain anyone thing, something equally important (where important is equal to the variable i, and i is equal to the variable w) must be lost.

We can follow this logically, then. The only definite variable equal to l is L (love is equivalent to life, or living, and vice versa).

( What can we come up with, if we use this? )