confession

Today, walking up to Independence from the parking lot, I saw an obnoxiously yellow-colored Ford Focus parked next to the library. I knew it would be yours. I mean, it is a really dreadful color, the likes of which are not often witnessed. I walked by the car and glanced in the window for telltale signs. The stack of CDs in the space between the front seats and the splintered glass of the broken digital clock. Yes and yes.

I walked by, went to Independence, dropped off my paper, ran into some people I know. Walked back by the library, back by the car again. Down to the parking lot to my car. Then I walked back up to the library again. Walked in, Nikki called, walked out. Saw some guys playing volleyball on the quad and one of them was wearing a Lambda shirt. Scanned the crowd for you. Hung up the phone and walked back into the library.

I think it generally falls under the category of pathetic to methodically circumnavigate each of the four floors of that huge library, hoping to "run in" to a guy with whom I only went on four dates, but for whom I quickly and unexpectedly fell absolutely head-over-heels... in spite of his unsavory habits (heavy drinking? smoking weed while operating a moving vehicle?), not to mention his mostly terrible fashion sense (yellow and purple argyle?). Oh yeah, and the fact that without explanation or apology, he stopped calling and I haven't heard from him in more than a week?

Yeah, okay, he's a jerk. And I think it falls under the category of pathetic to still think that he is ridiculously adorable, to replay in my head every moment that I can remember of our four dates, to have arguments with myself like the following:

Me: He's an asshole! He hasn't returned your calls or bothered to invite you anywhere in weeks! With no explanation!
Me: But his favorite book is The Little Prince! I mean, honestly, he can't be that bad...
Me: Who cares? For all you know, he could've just said that to seem cute, so he could get into your pants. Which he kind of did. Until you had the sense to tell him to stop.
Me: But he's a lot older than me! Maybe that's just how he's used to doing things!
Me: Are you serious? He definitely is used to doing things, and by things I mean slutty girls. Isn't it suspicious that the frequency of his calls took a quick dive after you told him to slow down?
Me: That was just a coincidence! It was Greek Week!
Me: That reminds me, do you really want a guy who is that into partying? Isn't that not your thing?
Me: I don't know! Maybe it wouldn't be that bad, even fun? His friends were nice...
Me: I can't stand to listen to you anymore. Why are you all mopey and not even angry at him? I say, fuck him. No wait, don't fuck him, that's the point. Good decision not to fuck him.
Me: .... ?
Me: WHY AREN'T YOU ANGRY?

And so on and so forth.

Anyway, so I spent at least an hour creepily lurking amongst shelves upon shelves of musty books and tax records from before I was born, passing strange characters like that old guy starting at the framed yearbook pictures on the walls and muttering something about someone named Joan, and slinking surreptitiously by rows upon rows of study carrels. (And upon my slinking, the tenants of said study carrels looked up at the sound of approaching sandals, bleary-eyed, and I felt like I'd been caught committing a crime.) All four floors, for heaven's sake. All the while thinking, "What are you going to do if you see him?" and retorting with, "I have no fucking clue, but I'm going to keep looking anyway."

And I didn't see you. So I did a final circuit of floors four and three and then went back outside, circumnavigated the quad, peered at the volleyball players, then made my way back past the library. Your car was gone. Then I promptly ran into a close friend of yours, who was so nice to me that I wanted to call you and scream, "WHY CAN'T YOU BE AS NICE AS YOUR FRIENDS?!" or something equally ridiculous.

And, inexplicably, ridiculously, I am still hanging on hoping there is a reason why you haven't called other than the obvious, that you don't want to see me anymore. And I'm still wondering what I did wrong instead of writing you off as an asshole. Which is dumb, but it's the truth.