Never Been Kissed Michigan: Part 8!

thenameselodie has figured out the secrets of the universe, but her crush's texts are still a mystery.—Sparkitors

I just made a discovery that’s going to blow your minds. Whenever you consider the day a write-off before you’ve even left the house—let’s say your alarm didn’t go off, there’s nothing to wear, and your hair looks like it’s trying to do stand-up comedy—THAT will be the day your crush decides to acknowledge your existence. I’m not talking about Spencer, though. I’m talking about the guy I swooned over from afar for about three years, with whom I’ve fallen in and out of love at least twelve times, and for whom I’ll always have a soft spot. (I also punched him in the face once. Oh, the elegance.)

I went months without seeing him, and yesterday—with my hilarious hair, my chipped nail polish, my baggy-sweatshirt-and-jeans attire and my general it’s-the-middle-of-the-week-and-I-hate-life demeanor—just had to be the day we crossed paths. Heed my warning: if you wake up and just feel like you’d be doing society a favor by putting a bag over your head, buckle up. You’re going to come face-to-face with your longtime crush. You might even slip (elegantly, of course) on the ice and almost take him out in the parking lot.

Wha—oh, right. I left you guys at a cliffhanger. Anyway, last week I got a text from the LAST person I expected: my would-be first kiss, Tristan. The smooch was thwarted by circumstances beyond our control (a bird, a raccoon, and some drunken dueling… a recipe for disaster if I ever saw one) two years ago, and contact between us has been negligible ever since; we exchanged phone numbers that night but never did anything with them. So the other day, he really surprised me with this zinger: “Hey.”

Hey? Hey? What could it mean? Did I sense a re-kindling passion? Instead of responding with “You, me, the closest movie theater between your house and mine, NOW,” I simply said, “Hey, how are you?” He, of course, took about five years to reply. I was trying to study during this time, and failing magnificently. It was hard to concentrate on the First Moroccan Crisis when thoughts like “WHAT IS TAKING HIM SO LONG?” kept intruding. He gave the obligatory “I’m good, how about you?” and I did that thing where you force yourself to wait five minutes so it seems like you have a life. I hoped he was imagining me at an exclusive dance party and not studying in my room/trying to balance a spoon on my nose.

We commenced polite chitchat. He asked, “I heard your uncle’s having a big party. Will you be in town? Maybe we can do something together.” All possible romantic connotations went right over my head at that moment, because I was a little annoyed. My uncle and I have the same birthday—February 12th. And Uncle Ted always has this big party. What starts out as a small gathering eventually blooms into this epic beer bash that people talk about months afterward. It’s always good for some laughs and inebriated relatives, but what it leaves me is forgotten. I can’t even blame them—why would you make a long drive to see your niece/granddaughter/cousin when there’s a perfectly good rager right around the corner? So, yeah, I was annoyed, but for no good reason. I said simply, “No, it’s my birthday too, so I’m staying home.”

“Oh. Happy birthday!” was the last real text he sent. The rest were one-word answers that brought the conversation to a screeching halt. A few days later, I tried my luck and opened the channels of communication with the passionate rhetoric for which I am so famous: “Hey, what’s up?” His response: “Nothing.” I asked a few questions to get the conversational juices flowing. He shut me down with “yes,” “no,” and (my personal pet peeve) “k.” I tried once more last night, and it wasn’t any better.

What does this mean? Tristan, you are a puzzling male specimen. And on that note, I’m going to switch gears.

If you're just tuning in, here's the gist: my best friend Liam and I have a library posse that includes my nerdy crush, Spencer. We chill and do homework and eat Oreos in secret. Lately, however, Spencer's friends have been joining us. Liam claims that such a large powwow is "ruining his concentration," so we have been working at a separate table on this huge project we have to do. Spencer and I exchange the occasional "Hey, how's it goin'?", but nothing more. I feel a gap forming. He no longer says "Hi" in the hallways. I need to bridge the gap! It's difficult, however, because I fear I have killed the poor boy. There seems to be an epidemic, because everyone is sick, and when I went back to school after contracting what I’m pretty sure was the plague, Spencer was absent (along with half my friends). He hasn’t been back this week. What have I done?

(Also: I have this really awesome plan to snag Spencer's phone number WITHOUT wimping out and asking Liam for it. And I'm not going to randomly say, "Hey, can I have your number for no reason whatsoever?" I won't divulge the Plan, but next week I'll let you know if it worked.)

The Plan, the Plan, we can't wait for the Plan! Oh, and elodie, we love you, even if you do have the plague. Guys, how can she BRIDGE THE GAP?

Related post: NBK Michigan