Dealing With Patty & Selma

My driver’s license needed to be renewed so I grudgingly went to the Bradley DMV a couple weeks ago. That particular DMV is relatively small and the workers have a noted reputation of being grouchy.  I think the latter probably stems from the former because they’re ALWAYS busy.  Seriously, is anybody ever happy there?  Your energy level drains as soon as you walk through the door.  Unless you need a simple sticker renewal, you just know it’s at least a half hour of your life that you’re never going to get back. 

I was spoiled by the last time my license came up for renewal.  Thanks to my squeaky clean driving record, I was able to renew my license without leaving the house; they send you a sticker to affix to the back of your license.  I initially enjoyed what this meant.  I’m generally averse to change so it meant I could show my yellowing, faded license and high school mug to every bouncer and beer-dispensing barkeep or waitress I came across.  Recently, however, my annoyance with the license outgrew its nostalgic value.  Apparently the sticker extension concept was a foreign one to many of these same bouncers, barkeeps, and waitresses.  I eventually got in the habit of automatically adding “flip it over” when handing my license to these people for review.  Side note: now 30, it’s becoming more of a compliment and less of an insult that people don’t believe I’m 21.  Perhaps I will age gracefully.  

Anyway, I was ready for a new license so I was almost relieved when I was required to visit a DMV in person and take a vision test. I chose the Bradley location strictly from a convenience standpoint.  At least I was sure to come across some interesting characters.  As I sat doing my crossword next to some guy in an oversized cowboy hat, I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation between the DMV employee and the woman taking a vision test – presumably the same test I would be subject to.  Actually, I only heard one side one of it.  Just insert some indiscernible mumbling for the half I didn’t hear.

Employee: (mildly annoyed) Ma’am, I’m going to need you to speak up.

Employee: (more annoyed) There’s no E on that line.

Employee: (sounding quite angry) Which line are you reading? Please read line 5!

Employee: (now just exasperated) OK, we’re done here.  Ma’am, you will not be allowed to drive at night or within a half hour of dawn and dusk.

If it wasn’t for the fact that she was a little older and English didn’t seem to be her first language, I would have been a little worried about the test.  I passed without a problem.  

As I’m waiting in yet another line to pay my renewal fee, I saw another elderly lady who appeared to be heading out for a road test.  While still waiting in the same line, the woman and the DMV employee return.  As I think to myself, “well that wasn’t very long”, I fear the worst for this woman’s chances of being allowed back on the road.  I don’t know how it turned out, but it didn’t seem favorable for the woman given the body language I observed from a distance.  I couldn’t dwell on her misfortune though.  I had to focus and make sure my new mug shot didn’t become a source of embarrassment over the next several years (thankfully it’s not).  Fun fact: over a decade later and the height/weight listed on my license didn’t need to change.  Until next time, Patty & Selma.

Crushes, Part 5

This is the previously unreleased (and unabridged) part 5 of the "Crushes" series I completed a while back.  Many of my devoted readers have already requested a copy and there's nothing new here to read if you have.  (Don't worry, I'm working on something new right now too.) If you have not read this and feel like wasting several minutes (yes, it will be several), I'll do my best to keep your interest.  So, why post this now when there was obvious hesitation before?  Eh, it's time.  I'm 30 now after all and it's time to turn the page on the past.  I shared this with some co-workers recently and it was a surprisingly easy thing for me to do.  I wonder if the few martinis I have in me right now also had a hand......Nah.

Time frame = Employment

Code name = Phoenix

When I first decided to write about my past crushes, I did so with obvious hesitation. The common thread is that I don’t think any of them really knew they were a crush. I knew exposing myself to people I might still see was therefore a risk without any real benefits, but I could live with that. What I wasn’t sure is how I would hold up because I knew all roads would eventually lead here, to Phoenix. I feared some of the scars would not be fully healed when I opened up my brain and looked around inside. This is my most recent crush and the one (as you’ll see) I can write about with the most fervor and accuracy. The other crushes were far enough in the rear view mirror that my recollections were mostly positive because it’s what I wanted to remember. I think that was reflected in my writing. I don’t have the luxury of time yet to forget the unwanted memories involving Phoenix. Writing this piece scared me a little.

Phoenix was a co-worker with me at Applied Systems. I never really paid much notice to her when she first started working there. Months probably passed and we barely said any words to each other. There was really no reason to. I’m not sure how or why but we started talking a little. The crush grew slowly and I didn’t even realize it existed until I was pretty heavily invested emotionally. I told myself they were just conversations, but I couldn’t deny the butterflies and rush of anticipation I felt whenever I would see her IM window pop up.

I looked forward to those conversations more than she could have known. It’s pretty pathetic but sometimes I would judge my work day based on whether Phoenix and I had shared a chat. We discussed lots of different topics and I indulged Phoenix with whatever was on her mind. I didn’t care; I wanted to hear it all. She would probably be shocked how many things I remember. It’s remarkable how much you can recall when you’re really listening.

Eventually we began to talk outside of work on Facebook as well. Work chats don’t require any special effort because you’re forced to be there. Striking up a conversation is just another convenient way to pass the time. The Facebook chats were meaningful because they were something extra. At night, I’d keep the Facebook page open on the off chance Phoenix would log in. On some lucky nights Phoenix wouldn’t disappoint. I’d talk to her for as long as she would let me. I’d go to bed with a smile on my face. I couldn’t seem to fall asleep right away because my mind was racing with the possibilities. I sent up more than my fair share of prayers hoping that fate would put us together. Who needs sleep anyway?

Music is a powerful tool. It can take us back and rekindle the memories we keep tucked away. Fortunately, I’ll have a song to associate with Phoenix and the good times. During one of our chats, she pointed me to the music video for “You Can Call Me Al” by Paul Simon. The song vaguely rang a bell. I have a wide range of musical tastes but it’s not the kind of song that would be in my wheelhouse. I had no reason to give it a second thought before. Now, with the video in mind, it's a source of joy. Phoenix explained how she and her brother would re-enact the dance performed by Simon and Chevy Chase. I have to chuckle because I could totally see her doing that.

By all accounts, Phoenix and I are two very different people. Our long-term outlooks on life did not align. She wanted to live in the city and experience all the metropolitan adventures. Kids were out of the question and marriage was a relatively foreign concept to her. I am a simple country kid who doesn’t appreciate the bright lights.  I always thought I'd get married someday and have some children to live vicariously through. Phoenix is a very strong-willed individual best suited for someone who could meet her steely resolve. I’m not really that kind of guy. I had to keep reminding myself that Phoenix was five years younger than me because she had an aura that suggested she was older. I myself act much younger than someone my age. Phoenix said that she used to smoke (turn-off #1) and insisted she had stopped, but noted that she wouldn’t be completely against starting again. She didn’t appreciate the brilliance of The Simpsons (the '90s episodes and not the former shell of itself the show has become). She even had a personal vendetta against Taco Bell and refused to eat there. I know, ca-ray-zay!

My brain crunched the numbers and the compatibility results were not promising. In fact, there have been a couple other girls during my 6-year tenure at Applied that I considered a better fit for me when analyzing the prospects of a potential relationship. And yet, this blog is not about those other girls. This is why I knew my interest in Phoenix wasn’t just a passing phase. Despite all the evidence pointing me in the other direction, I was still into her. Quite simply, Phoenix had “it”. “It” is indefinable but no less important than any other tangible quality that draws you in to someone. Add it all up and Phoenix was in my crosshairs.

Speaking of tangible qualities, Phoenix was a looker despite what she’d have you and I believe. When she wanted to, Phoenix could definitely turn some heads. Trust me, I’m not the only one in the office who felt that way. So yeah, you could say I was attracted to her. What I loved about her is that she didn’t usually feel the need to oversell herself. She was completely comfortable with who she was. I believe she would have shown up to work in sweats if they let her. Then again, who wouldn’t?

I’ve mentioned before that I may try to map out theoretical conversations I plan on having with a crush. For as many conversations as we actually had, I must have had almost as many imaginary ones with Phoenix. I devised ways to reveal things I wanted her to know and created a variety of potential responses she could have. I was prepared for whatever direction the conversation would turn. Many of these imaginary conversations never materialized; if they did, it never quite went to plan.

One of the more draining aspects (an entirely self-induced one) of a conversation with Phoenix is that I always felt like I had to be “on”. And you know what? I didn’t mind the challenge. I was convinced that I needed to keep feeding her with something interesting or risk losing the conversation. I also respected Phoenix’s intelligence as I have with virtually all of my crushes. I needed her to feel the same way about my smarts. It’s a recurring theme with my crushes. Truthfully, I’d say my insecurities on this matter extend beyond just those I’ve had crushes on. If I view you as equal or superior to me in terms of intellect, it’s important that I correct myself on any mistakes made lest you look down on me for it (ignoring obvious errors like transposing typed letters).

Understandably, I was very careful with my words when talking to Phoenix. If it was an IM conversation, the correct spelling or definition of a word was double-checked, if there was any doubt, before I used it. If it was a verbal conversation, those questionable words were kept tucked away. I don’t want to imply that I’m a huge phony though. I like to think I’m brighter than the Average Joe and most of my material – in these blogs and in general – is straight out of my head with no vetting required. I just wanted to be extra sure with Phoenix. Verbal conversations were obviously harder to control and I probably stumbled through more than my fair share of them with her. I always seem to discover the witty words to say a few minutes after the interaction has ended. Not just with Phoenix, but with everyone. I wish I could think quicker on my feet but I guess that’s why I type and don’t speak.

Phoenix certainly wasn’t the kind of girl who would make things easy on you. She was an intimidating presence to say the least. It was common knowledge throughout the office that you did not want to get on her bad side. A few of us at least had some fun with it. “Target acquired” and “eliminated” were referenced on more than one occasion. Phoenix wasn’t one of those girly girl types, which was a good thing. She played and watched sports.  Those who know me are aware that’s a quality I’ll always award a girl extra points for.

It wouldn’t surprise me if Phoenix wore the pants in all of her relationships. I recall the one time we went out to lunch together during work hours. We had been discussing the McRib, that glorious sandwich dripping with its intoxicating barbeque sauce. I noted that it was something I indulged myself with once a year or so, but that I had not yet met my yearly quota. It was settled then; we would go one day. I carpool with my brother and McRib day fell on his turn to drive. I also chose that day to forget my employee ID badge which controls your building access. This lunch most definitely was not a date but it could have been a precursor to one. However, Phoenix would be driving me to McDonald’s and opening doors for me. That irony was not lost on me.

When I think of her nature, one particular conversation stands out to me. Somehow the movie “The Notebook” came up and I admitted to not only tolerating the movie but even, well, kind of, enjoying it. (I should have been able to use that to my advantage somehow with the female population.) That was, not surprisingly, met with a snort and mockery. I jokingly asked what pumped that black sludge through her veins because it surely wasn’t a heart.

We talked about weekly gatherings at her local drinking establishment. Phoenix lived on the south side of city, which was north of my comfort border. To me, there’s Chicago and there’s everything south of I-80. I limit my travels north of “the line” to only times when it’s absolutely necessary, when it’s an event I know I’ll really enjoy, or when I care about someone at the event. I can take or leave the bar scene, so I would have gone solely for her presence. And oh how I wanted to go.

It was indirectly implied that I should join Phoenix and her crew sometime. Awesome! I needed something more concrete though. I’ve never been one to just show up somewhere unless explicitly asked nor am I one who invites himself. So I bided my time, keeping my best-pressed shirt on stand-by. I was going to be sure to remind her of my urban disdain when the invite came but concede to “make an exception in this case”. I fantasized about where this could lead. I’d hit it off with her friends and I might suddenly look like a pretty good option. Week after week, they’d go drinking but I never got the call. I should have known better.

I tried to play my part in suggesting we should hang out sometime. Looking back, I should have been more proactive about it. I figured a non-committal group setting would be the best route to take. I’m in a mixed bowling league in Beecher every other Saturday. It’s a fun, low-key environment to hang out and drink with a group of people. I can understand not wanting to walk into that setting alone however, so I encouraged her to bring some friends. It was an open-ended invitation. Just something to get the ball rolling (no pun intended). I’ve actually extended the same invite to several people. That was back when I used to think that just mentioning my whereabouts on Facebook with the invitation to join me would be enough. I know now I have to work harder than that. I also know that I won’t. To the few that have ever taken me up on the offer, your place in my good graces is secure.

I got the impression like Peotone and the surrounding areas were places Phoenix did not want to be caught dead in. Maybe she too had a geographical bias that was the exact opposite of mine. She admitted to actually going to Striker’s (Beecher’s bowling alley) once before based on a dare from a different Applied employee. I thought to myself, why was his dare good enough but my invite isn’t. Was the experience really that terrible? She told me she went to Mulligan’s in Monee once for an after-work celebration and vowed to never return. Maybe she was soured on the entire landscape. Eventually Phoenix yielded some and said she’d consider making the trip down. I knew that was just an attempt to pacify me and I wanted to tell her not to suggest things she had no intention of doing. I didn’t and just held out a little sliver of hope that maybe she was serious.

I probably had lots of missed opportunities to at least take a chance. I’m not saying they would have been successful but I could have swung away. There was New Year’s Eve, which she had planned to spend alone. None of the offers put before me seemed very intriguing so I too was planning for a night in. I communicated this to Phoenix. Maybe a quiet night in with just the two of us was exactly what the doctor ordered. I wasn’t going to openly suggest this but I sure as heck could hint at it. Apparently, my plight was not moving enough. Nobody should be alone when ringing in the New Year, right? I guess Phoenix understood that because she ultimately went out with friends. Me? I stayed at home alone as promised, trying to drink away and forget the last hours of 2011. Some say that who is around and what you are doing when the clock strikes midnight will set the stage for your next year. Maybe there’s some validity to that seemingly nonsensical belief. There were some really bright spots, but on the whole, 2012 was a huge letdown in several areas of my life. [Insert obligatory follow-up that I vow to make 2013 better.]

I liked to fool myself into thinking that there was a time when Phoenix would have been open to any of my advances. Back when our Facebook chats were at their height, I remember her posting a status that was essentially saying “shit or get off the pot”. When questioned about it, she added a follow-up comment that it had to do with a guy. I noticed this status was quickly deleted from her wall. I wondered if just maybe I was the subject of the post and it was deleted in an attempt to hide it from me. Of course, I would have needed a lot more than that before exposing my true feelings. I now realize that was mere pyrite I was holding onto but it kept my dreams afloat for a little while.

See, the thing you need to know about me is that I’ll always leave you wanting more. I can’t deliver on the expectations you conjure up. You’re not into me; you’re into the idea of what I could be. From an outsider’s point of view, I should have all the tools to make it happen. I don’t know what to tell you. The individual pieces, all perfectly functional on their own, just don’t fit together nicely. It never fails - you’ll grow tired of playing the waiting game and move on. I don’t blame you.

Please, please don’t mistake passive for indifferent. I’d shout it at the top of my lungs to the entire female population if they would listen. I know someone eventually has to make the move, but I didn’t want it to be me. I always thought the girl for me would be the one who fought through my maze of subtleties and criteria and emerged with a proclamation of feelings that froze me right in my place. The number of capable and, more importantly, willing people who could complete such an arduous undertaking has to be less than the number of people named David Younker in the United States. (I was curious once. There are 28 according to the census website whose data I am choosing to trust.) Call it my own way of pre-screening individuals to ensure a maximum chance of relationship success. Now that I can view my time with Phoenix through the 20-20 lenses of hindsight, I know any hints I dropped were far too inadequate to ever be caught. There was no way for her to jump to the proper conclusion. Even my half-assed attempts to court someone are half-assed. 

Of course, I’m probably fooling myself thinking that anyone has actually ever had these grand delusions of viewing me as potential boyfriend material. Phoenix almost had me believing she did, which may be why I held out hope for so long. There were times it felt like she was going out of her way a little to talk to me. Why hold an online conversation with me when you’re out with friends at a bar? It just didn’t make sense. Maybe I just happened to be online at the right time (eh, I’m always online) and a few words with me was deemed as a sufficient way to pass the time in lieu of a bar scene hopping with far more attractive options.

So why didn’t I take more appropriate actions to get the definitive answer I so desperately sought? The primary driving force behind my hesitation had to be that she was a co-worker. So what, you say? Well, I’ve got a lot of crazy rules and criteria when it comes to dating. Sometimes I think I’ll make up any excuse not to go after someone. Just add another brick to the fortress I’ve walled myself inside.

Actually, I think my stance on this one is particularly defensible. If you have interest in a co-worker, I would urge you to proceed with extreme caution. I’m not saying it can’t work because I’ve seen successful inter-office relationships. I just think you’re playing with fire and I won’t say I told you so when you get burned. There’s the obvious awkwardness that ensues if your initial courting attempt is met with resistance, but there’s also the risk of a post-breakup meltdown. Do you like your job? If that other person is a bit unhinged or just plain vindictive, I sincerely hope you’re in good with your HR department.

All things considered, I believe it is good policy not to mix business and pleasure. Even if you’re heads over heels in love, everyone needs a break from their significant other for part of the day to avoid getting burned out. As strange as it sounds, I would enjoy the freedom work provides. I’d like to come home and escape from the problems of my work day by hearing a completely different set of problems. We’d console each other with a fresh outsider perspective. Am I alone on this?

As part of my reconnaissance mission to gauge any potential interest she may have had in me, Phoenix and I broached the subject of inter-office relationships. She was sickened by all of the “Applied-cest”, as she put it, going on in our office. Leave it to her to be completely blunt about it. That was another signal even I could decipher. I needed to stand down.

Another thing you must understand about me is that I probably won’t ask a female to go out unless I’m reasonably confident the answer is the one I’m looking for. There’s always exceptions but let’s file any unasked questions I had for Phoenix under the norm.  Even though I was fairly certain that Phoenix didn’t return my feelings, I felt compelled to mention the situation to my good buddy Tom. Naturally, he told me to go for it if there was even the slightest doubt in my mind that I’d get a favorable response. I knew that would be his suggestion. He’s always been willing to take a risk whereas I’m more inclined to let my “logic” guide me. I was too concerned with the potential fallout. It was all about damage control.

I only ever admitted to liking Phoenix by name to one person. My confidant was an Applied employee who also fancied a co-worker. I pressed him for the name with no success until he finally offered me a deal. Knowing that I too liked someone in the office, he agreed to tell me the name of his crush in exchange for the name of mine. Truthfully, I could not have cared less who his mystery woman was. I don’t need juicy office gossip to sustain me and it was really none of my damn business. I agreed to his offer because I knew that divulging this information would lift a weight off of my shoulders. If I couldn’t tell Phoenix herself, I needed to tell someone who at least knew who she was. My buddy Tom lives in Bloomington. It was easy to talk about Phoenix with him because she was always just a faceless, nameless person. Admitting my feelings to Applied-guy felt good. Kinda like I hope writing this blog will.

It had become clear that I wasn’t going to become a friend of Phoenix’s, let alone a boyfriend. If Phoenix was into me, I would have known it. She would have pressed the issue more, but she didn’t. It was a harsh realization but one I had to accept. She didn’t reciprocate my feelings. I felt like I said all the right things and I didn’t know why I didn’t mean more to Phoenix. I guess the heart wants what the heart wants.

I was merely a co-worker who she leaned on at various times to help pass the work day. You now know how much I enjoyed those interactions but it just wasn’t enough for me. I couldn’t check my feelings at the door when I walked into the office. Knowing full well that my paralysis with women would prevent me from ever doing anything to change the situation, I began to pray for a reprieve from the power she held over me. Maybe, just maybe, if she was off the market, then I could get some closure. I wouldn’t have to wonder anymore if I had a chance.

One of my most, er, redeeming qualities is that I respect boundaries. I am the LAST guy you ever have to worry about stealing your girl. As the great Roy Munson put it, “You don’t mow another guy’s lawn.” It’s a simple credo that I adhere to. Guys, if your girl is flirting with me, rest assured that I did not initiate it. Rather than getting in my face, I suggest you take a moment to rethink where things are between the two of you. I mean, if she’s showing an interest in me…well, you’ve read enough of my blogs to know where I’m going with that.

Anyway, they say be careful what you wish for. Of all the prayers I had involving Phoenix, it’s fitting that the one about her getting a boyfriend who wasn’t me is the one that would be answered. Inevitably it came up casually in one of our IM conversations. We discussed him a few times, and I offered my advice and support to Phoenix on things like meeting the guy’s parents. There was nothing insincere or scheming in anything I said. Although it was difficult, I spoke to her as a friend because I wanted to see her happy. I’d still give her the same pearls of wisdom, for whatever they’re worth, if she asked today.

Around that time, in accordance with my desires for a reprieve, I took a calculated gamble. I began to distance myself from Phoenix. The majority of IM conversations I have are initiated by the other party. Waiting for others to make the first move? Shocking, I know. With Phoenix (as with others really), I always had the fear that I was engaging her at an inopportune time. I’m firmly convinced of my terrible timing and I guess it’s an ever-present fear.

Yes, the DY-Phoenix chats were usually started by Phoenix but she was one of the few people with whom I broke the IM ice. I stopped doing that, both at work and on Facebook. Additionally, when she came to me for our usual stimulating conversation, I was less than my usual responsive self. Phoenix is a clever gal, so she took the hint. Daily conversations turned into every other day, then to weekly, and finally to whenever something NEEDED to be discussed (i.e. work-related). By the end, it seemed like even those inquiries had come to a halt. Call it arrogant if you must but I do think I’m pretty darn good at my job. There’s a reason so many people outside my team reach out to me for assistance. Maybe I was no longer the best source of answers for Phoenix but I doubted it. Outside of work, the Facebook chats ceased altogether. I can only imagine what my actions must have seemed like to her. I’m guessing I was just some jerk who had grown tired of her company. It couldn’t have been further from the truth.

By the time I made my decision, there was a new round of hires within my department. Understandably they had developed a bond with Phoenix. One of them was even contemplating making a move after her. I gave him my support in his endeavor and astutely reminded him what a monumental task it would be (he concurred). Phoenix quickly adapted to life with the noobs, casting me aside with ease. It was obvious that my role as a sounding board was easily replaceable. I had become obsolete, swapped out for newer, younger models. But they couldn’t possibly provide the same humor and insight that I did, could they? I know there were many people Phoenix chatted with at work but I liked to think my absence in the IM game left some sort of void. Clearly I overestimated my impact. How could I have been so naïve and short-sighted?

After the revelation of a boyfriend surfaced, the decision to move on became a relatively easy one. The execution of that decision however was far more difficult. Although I had begun the process of moving on, I apparently wasn’t quite ready to abandon the notion of being friends just yet. I had just finished reading The Hunger Games trilogy and the 1^st installment was coming to theatres, on my birthday as it turned out. Phoenix and I had discussed the books briefly and both of us expressed a desire to see the movie. She had to know I wanted to see it and that’s important here.

I danced around the subject of getting a group together to go see the film. It was my typical way of asking something without directly asking it. A week or so passed and I started to get a little anxious that I might not actually see the movie. Finally, I decided to step out of my comfort zone a little lot and spearhead the movement of organizing a group to see the movie that weekend (this was on a Thursday). The conversation started by me confirming that she hadn’t seen the movie yet…except that she did, with friends, just the night before. Phoenix returned the question and I backpedaled, suggesting that I might not go see it after all, in part because I didn’t have anyone to see it with. Part of that was the truth; part of it was intended to plant some guilt. She proceeded to suggest other co-workers that I might be able to see the movie with, which only further highlighted how far apart from being friends we really were. I have yet to see The Hunger Games. It’s not like the prospect of seeing it is too painful or anything sappy like that. I just lost the drive to see the movie and have never gotten around to it.

For someone who proclaims to be a man of science and logic, I have an annoying little habit of trying to look for signs in many things I do. Signs that are derivatives of fate. With women, it’s no different really. I look for reasons why something is meant to be or not to be (usually the latter). I’m not quite sure why but I saw that Hunger Games failure as the final straw.

I began to see Phoenix a little differently after that. Even though she had done nothing wrong, I didn’t want her around anymore. I’m not proud of the grudge I secretly harbored for the next couple months. In a silent moment at home, I would curse her name into my pillow. At work, I would hear her voice and do one of two things to suppress my frustrations. I’d either make efficient use of my stress ball or blare something like Linkin Park’s “One Step Closer” through my headphones. I was letting the mere thought of her eat away at me and it was really unhealthy.

As the weeks passed, I was just looking for a reason to really be angry but it had to be justified. As chance would have it, Phoenix would give me my opportunity. Phoenix organized an after-work get together at a sports bar called Pete Mitchell’s. Our interaction had really tapered off by this point, so I was even a little surprised to get the invite. I guess I wasn’t a complete afterthought just yet. I was definitely eager to go. Phoenix and I might even get to have a thought-provoking conversation like the good ol’ days. My brother made the guest list (largely irrelevant to this story, I just found it odd) and I convinced him to come along.

We arrived a little after the designated start time. Our arrival was a combination of “Younker Time” and my insistence on never being the first person to show up somewhere. ‘Hey, who’s that loser standing there by himself?’ ‘I’m just waiting for some others. No, really, I am!’ I was taken aback when I saw just one other co-worker (Shane C.) sitting there. I immediately assumed we were being stood up but assured myself that I was just being paranoid. Midway through the first beer that I was nursing, it became painfully obvious that my fears were indeed true. I was furious and I was going to confront Phoenix about it the next morning.

I briefly considered a tactful approach, but even a night’s sleep didn’t tame the animal pacing inside my head, begging to be released from his cage. I went after her guns a-blazing via IM, opening with something along the lines of ‘thanks for wasting the collective time and gas of myself, my brother, and Shane’ (I can only assume he shared my outrage). I was quickly counter-punched with the notification that someone close to her had passed away, and she figuratively slammed the door in my face. She switched to the dreaded ‘Do not disturb’status, preventing any sort of response. Amazing that she could somehow turn the tables so I would feel like the jerk that had done wrong.

I really wish I could say that was the first time I called out someone’s absence only to discover a death was the reason. Come on, there’s no way I could have known that! Death or not, I felt like all attendees deserved to know the event was, for all intents, cancelled. As the event organizer, I believed that duty fell to Phoenix. That’s common courtesy, you know? Those on a more regular speaking basis with Phoenix seemingly did know that no one was going, and that was probably part of what irked me because it reminded me of how much we used to talk.

I was genuinely sorry for her loss, but I still needed my feelings validated. I shared the scenario (but no names) with some other co-workers who sided with me. Perhaps they were just humoring me to my face. Looking back, of course I wish I would have handled it differently. On the plus side, I’ve never been overly infatuated with Top Gun, so I won’t miss that place.

After this altercation, my gut told me it would never be the same between us. I just had no idea how uncomfortable it would become. Anyone that’s worked in an office with co-worker tension can appreciate what I’m talking about. You go out of your way to avoid them by darting down a different row of cubicles. You turn up your headphones just so you don’t overhear one of their conversations. This is all easier said than done when it’s someone you see almost daily. In those sticky situations when chance puts you both at the coffee station at the same time, you do your best to acknowledge their presence and utter some meaningless small talk. Phoenix and I were no different. Neither of us was willing to address the eight hundred pound gorilla in the room it seemed. The silent treatment had set in. I perceived a scowl whenever she looked at me. That’s where I thought it would end at least.

One day a bombshell was dropped. I was kept up to date on Phoenix’s latest thoughts and activities via my Facebook ticker. Her name also had a prominent place in my chat window, reserved for the people you’ve messaged recently or most often. (I didn’t and don’t chat very often on FB so that’s why hers remained in its place.) I couldn’t help but notice her presence on FB. You could even say I went out of my way to notice it. Then all of a sudden I stopped noticing. It didn’t dawn on me at first but then I confirmed it – we weren’t friends anymore. Surely there had to be some mistake. Did she really un-friend me? I know we sort of had a falling out but that seemed a bit extreme. I mean, how else could I stalk her? Is he joking? The term“friend” is really saturated on Facebook; you don’t even have to know the person. I had truly become persona non grata in Phoenix’s eyes and that really stung. My initial reactions of shock and resentment quickly morphed into just sadness.

Once again, there would be nights when sleep would evade me for a long time because of Phoenix. This time it was for different reasons and the sleeplessness was often accompanied by tears. I’m not ashamed of the tears. A day of laughter and crying makes for a very full day. We should be so lucky to have things in our lives that move us to such actions. Yes, I’ve shed my fair share of tears over many things throughout the years. Not often over girls though. I’d come to accept their general willingness to pass over me. I may have had a fleeting hope here or there but the inevitable outcomes were nothing to lose sleep or cry over. Somehow I had let this one sneak past my defenses. Phoenix had no idea what she was doing to me. I had been chewed up and spit out by a man-eater. Hall & Oates would be proud.

I internalized everything. Co-workers and friends, even Phoenix, didn’t need to be brought down by the pain I was feeling. Hey, I guess I’m a pretty considerate guy after all. If you could deal with the occasional emo-based self-pity words I’d post in an IM note or FB status update, then you were largely unaffected. I have a whole stable of sad songs that I can rely upon to get me through such times. I’d keep hitting skip on my playlist until I found what I was looking for. “Words I Couldn’t Say” by Rascal Flatts, “Nobody Knows It” by The Tony Rich Project, The Script’s “Nøthing”, to name a few. I’d use their lyrics in an IM note as a feeble attempt to communicate to her, knowing all the while they’d never be read or have their true purpose identified. I guess Lifehouse could sum up my situation the best. I was waiting for the night to avoid seeing her. Then I was waiting for the day to bring some new hope. I was stuck somewhere in between.

I always knew Phoenix would leave Applied eventually based on the way she talked about the job. Unlike me, many people aren’t just all talk. ‘Hey Dave, how’s that house hunt coming along?’ There would be a day when things would get much, much easier. I strongly considered composing a hand-written (no one does that anymore) letter to Phoenix that expressed all of my past (yes, past) feelings. I had no expectations for this letter; it wasn’t some desperate last attempt to win her over. I just felt like…she should…know. I was going to deliver this letter on her last day or mail it to her after the fact. Perhaps I was deterred by the failure of the last time I wrote a letter to a girl, but I chickened out.

I never did tell Phoenix how I felt and I guess this blog is the closest I could get albeit in a much more public (public?) forum than originally intended. I can exhale an easy breath knowing that it’s likely she’ll never read this. Even if this somehow does make its way to her eyes, I hope she’d appreciate the absolute honesty and get on with her life in whatever way seemed best. Honesty never goes out of style, does it?

It’s obvious that I no longer work with Phoenix. The news of her impending departure reached me rather suddenly. (That’s another reason for the incompletion of my letter, although I’m sure I could have found time if I really wanted to.) There would be one final shindig to celebrate her Applied career. Phoenix even invited me. I accepted as “tentative” (my usual response) but I wasn’t going to miss this.

Side note: Accepting as “tentative” really gives you the best of both a “Yes” and “No”. If something comes up or you just change your mind, no one really expected you to be there in the first place. Jack Johnson had it right – maybe does pretty much always mean no. However, when you do ultimately show up, it’s an unexpected surprise. It’s almost as if you’re greeted more warmly than someone who accepted outright. The only drawback is the potential loss of credibility I’ve created for myself due to overuse of the response.

Back to the story. The end with Phoenix was near. I just couldn’t leave things the way they were between us, not after what she had meant to me. A couple days before she left, I reached out to her via IM at work. I thanked her for the countless enjoyable conversations we shared and wished her the best of luck in her future endeavors. It was all sincere and I can only hope she forgave me for any lingering grievances. In my opinion, we parted ways on amicable terms. I guess there’s someone else you’d have to confirm that with but I’m mostly satisfied.

A lot of people have come and gone in my time at Applied. It’s the nature of the pay. You develop a little bond with some of them even. There may be intentions of“staying of touch” after they leave but we all know how it usually turns out. As I gazed upon Phoenix for what I knew would be the last time at her going-away event, it was a bittersweet feeling. Part of me was sorry to see her go, but I knew her departure would be the ultimate elixir on the path to healing.

I wished things would have turned out differently. Maybe in another time in a parallel universe. I was still thankful for the opportunity to know Phoenix. Finally, I said my goodbye, offering a casual “been nice knowin’ ya”. If she only knew the real weight behind those words. I slowly walked to my car and sat there for a couple minutes, reflecting on everything I had felt in the past year. I romanticized that she would detect the hint of sorrow in my eyes as I left and chase me down to reveal some secret feelings because she knew it would be her last chance. Alas, Hollywood doesn’t make house calls.

I was forwarded an email once with Chinese New Year sayings that offer advice on how to live your life. I printed a copy and pinned it to my cubicle wall to serve as a reminder for days I need guidance. One simple statement let me know everything was going to be alright: “Time heals almost everything. Give time time.”

Now that time has passed, I can look back at this crush without emotion clouding my judgment. I can appreciate it and her as another step in my life. I realize that some of what I have said may paint her in a negative light (or maybe just me, which is fair), but I remind you all that this is just my opinion. Additionally, and I cannot overstate this enough, I’ve tried to communicate what I was feeling as the events were unfolding. Written with the benefit of hindsight, this blog might look a little different. If you do happen to know Phoenix, nothing you’ve read here should change what you think about her. I’ve opened myself up for your judgment but that’s where it should end. I got whatever I deserved between myself and Phoenix. I hold no grudges for anything that did or didn’t happen. There will be wistful memories but there will also be just as many happy ones. I know I’ll never be as important to Phoenix as she was to me. I can only hope I gave her some good times and that her lasting impression of me is a positive one. At the very least, maybe she will be able to remember my name years from now when she looks back on her time at Applied.

While Phoenix will eventually fade into the subconscious region of my brain, it’s safe to say she’ll never be completely forgotten. I was reminded of that just this past Christmas season. Phoenix was a well-read gal, so I solicited her for suggested reading material. One of her offerings was “Unbroken”. My dad was showing me some of the gifts he had bought for my mom. Guess which book I see. I couldn’t help but shake my head. At least I’m in a place now where I can find the humor in such things.

I know I tend to ramble on, so if you’re still reading, that’s quite an accomplishment (and thank you). It’s a lot like that crappy movie you shelled out 8 bucks for. You’ve made it this far and invested your time and money. You owe it to yourself to see firsthand what comically bad ending is in store. Trust me, your opinion will mean more when you recount the experience years later with friends.  Or, if you're lucky, you can just point your friends to a clip from a TV show that's done the work for you.

So now you’re finally here and wondering what cockamamie theory or story I have for you. This better be good, Younker.  The truth is that I had a different ending in my original draft.  After sleeping on it for a couple nights, I decided to scrap most of it.  I couldn't throw my full support behind the words anymore.  Maybe I'm still drinking the New Year's Kool-Aid but it sounded too much like the old me I vowed to break away from.

In this far less impressive ending, I can at least inform you that I won’t be writing about my lady ineptitude anymore. [Audience exhales a huge sigh of relief and applauds.] I think there’s enough documentation on that topic. I’ll be able to write about things you may actually care about. Now, I won’t hesitate to discuss general relationship dilemmas if asked (re: he's running out of ideas so shoot questions his way). I have plenty of untested theories if you’re willing to entertain a little out of the box thinking. I’m always here for you.

I'll leave you with one last thought:  I think that true love and ultimately marriage is not so much a product of who as it is when. It’s when you’re ready to wholly commit to true love and take that next step. Who you’re with at the time, if they’re even remotely right for you, grows into “the one”. There’s no timetable but everyone reaches that point in their lives if their path is leading them in that direction. Not everyone is on that path though. You shouldn’t feel ashamed if your head and heart tells you what you’re doing is right. Follow them. 

Epilogue: This concludes the mini-series on crushes. I hope you’ve enjoyed the view into my past through my eyes. It wasn’t easy to do this but it’s been a very cathartic process. I felt many different emotions and a better author could have conveyed them all.

There have been other crushes throughout my life but these I have written about are the most significant. Linebacker wasn’t really that significant actually. (I had intended to write about all of my crushes at that point, and her story was a short one that I was using as filler.) I guess you could call the other 4 – Linear Regression, Sandiego, Kung Pow, and Phoenix –my Mount Rushmore of crushes. They represent different stages of my progression through life (grade school, high school, college, and employment, respectively). I didn’t plan for it to work out that way, but I’m pleased with the balance because the memory of each crush doesn’t threaten to cannibalize any of the others.

The irony in all of this is that the few girls I’ve gone on dates with during and since high school have not been ones I’ve had a crush on nor did they develop into a crush once we went on a date. I guess that’s appropriate. To me, the concept of a crush is that idealistic person just beyond your grasp. The final destination with them may not ultimately produce a pot of gold, but it’s the path you travel that leads to the best stories and memories. You must take the good with the bad. They say you learn more from your failures than your successes anyhow. Mission accomplished.

Who Needs Facebook?

It must be March because I’m sitting here gorging myself on a buffet of college basketball.  This 2 day sabbatical from work to do nothing but watch the NCAA tournament has now become an annual tradition of mine.  I guess there was never any doubt my life would progress to this stage.  I’m reminded of the time a couple buddies showed up at my door in high school, begging me to go to a school dance.  Hmmm, eat some crappy appetizers and stand awkwardly on the fringes or stay home and watch someone like Harold “The Show” Arceneaux lead a Cinderella over a national power?  I told them no then and I’d tell you no now.  You could even be promoting the chance to meet your cute friend who really likes former Scholastic Bowl nerds that still live at home. 

I guess I’ll just always be a homebody.  It’s the NCAA tournament after all.  The opening few days are the best sports has to offer.  The tournament is absolutely bulletproof and it’s gotten even better.  No longer must we be subject to the whims of some dictatorial CBS producer.  If there’s a game we want to see, us sports guys can summon our inherent channel changing abilities to ensure we don’t miss a minute of the best action. 

I won’t bore everyone with a ton of analysis on how the tournament is going to shake out.  It’s been a wide open year.  Both my teams (Illinois and Michigan) are in the dance and I’ll be looking forward to watching them advance as far as they can.  A Sweet 16 would be a nice showing for the Illini.  Despite their sluggish finish to the season and falling to a #4 seed, I truly do believe my Wolverines have what it takes to go all the way.  The natural pessimist in me also wouldn’t be shocked if they lost in the round of 64. UPDATE: Michigan rolls past South Dakota St. to advance but their likely next round opponent (VCU) is looking awfully tough.  So I let my heart guide me somewhat and picked the Wolverines in one of my brackets over Ohio St.  I actually went with 4 Big 10 teams (also Michigan St. and Indiana) in the Final 4 in that bracket; it’s been the best conference by far this year, so why not?  I went with Duke over Kansas in my other sheet of integrity. 

Anyway, it’s been almost a month since my last submission and I really want to get back to a blog per week pace.  I think I can make that happen if I stop trying to write mini-novels with each entry.  Fortunately, my mind has been really scatterbrained lately and I’ve jotted some ideas down on a bevy of topics that don’t necessarily tie together. Let’s start by unveiling my current (and perhaps future) plans for Facebook.

I doubt many of you have noticed, but I have been largely MIA on Facebook these last few weeks. I’ve done this before and the reasoning is usually the same – it depresses me.  I’m unable to follow the same advice I’ve often given to you, my readers, in this blog.  As I scroll through everyone’s status updates and pictures that invade my ticker, I can’t help but define myself by what they have and I don’t.  You probably think that is some lame segue into another blog about women but a true follower would remember my vow to shelve that topic for a while.  While I’d be lying if women were not part of the equation, they really weren’t the driving factor this time.  People’s lives just seemed more…interesting than mine and I hated it.

Yes, I spent a lot of time on the social network posting my self-absorbed thought of the day, liking a random meme that someone linked, posting another self-absorbed thought, scanning pictures in a shared album if there was a girl that caught my eye, reviewing my “wall” for conversations long since dead to the other participants, and just for good measure, posting another self-absorbed thought with the hopes of drawing a couple likes or actual responses.  Actually, I thought I was relatively judicious with my status updates, only giving everyone the gold material.  I didn’t feel the need to share things like what I ate for dinner or how the baby I don’t have just did something cute.  When I really assessed my time spent on Facebook, I saw a lot of wasted efforts.  What was I really getting out of it?  So I made the decision to step away and thus far I haven’t really regretted it.

By the way, I’m aware of the irony of denouncing Facebook only to use it as a means to share this blog, so don’t bother pointing that out. Hey, it’s not my fault I only have 1 official follower. I’ve even enabled the ability to follow me via email (I think). That’s another reason I’ve avoided the whole Twitter thing.  The inner child in me is screaming “pay attention to me” and I’ll just sulk when you don’t.  As for Facebook, it is still a useful tool for some things.  If there is an event I need to plan like our annual Labor Day Weekend shindig (shameless plug) or a mass audience I’m trying to reach, it is much easier with the built-in capabilities of a social network.  In lieu of an email address or phone number, Facebook may also be my only means of contacting someone. 

I still endorse the site as a means for someone else to contact me.  I still try to sign in daily and check for any private messages or postings on my wall.  Basically, I’m treating the site like a glorified email account at this point.  I’ve gone through phases like this before and always regressed into my former ways.  I think this time is a little different though.  In the past, I’d fight off urges to go see “what’s happening”, but now I’m not even really tempted.  I’d like to say I’ve replaced my daily Facebook time with something useful but I’ve only got so much growth in me at a time.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to return to hour 11 of my basketball marathon.