An Open Letter to the Beautiful Girl Behind Me In Line at Chick Fil A (An Introduction)

Beautiful Brunette,

Hello, you may not remember me, but about 5 minutes ago we were both in line for delicious breaded chicken from a family friendly restaurant in the Student Union Building. I was the guy wearing the grey American Eagle hoodie. (Don't worry about the smell, it's new and the rain gives it a vomity odor). I couldn't help but notice that not only were you beautiful, but you were not wearing a T-shirt espousing the merit of the sorority that you joined. This gives me hope that you aren't a stupid vacuous slut (no offense to all you God fearing sorority girls, but you're mostly whores!). I also noticed that you were with your less attractive friend, hopefully this means you value personality and aren't trying to make yourself look better by comparison. Whenever I stole a furtive glance at you, you didn't immediately turn away and face the opposite side of the line, this did wonders for my self-esteem. (I just saw Alex Natarajan, I thought he was dead). I thought about talking to you, but what would I say? "Hello, You are very pretty, please be nice to me." Also I had my headphones in, so even if i said anything I wouldn't be able to listen to your response. But rest assured, if we had spoken, I would have offered to pay for your waffle fries (please don't let me, my mom only gives me $200 for food). Your hair was wet, which makes sense because it is very rainy outside, but if we happened to hit it off and you wanted to walk to class together i would totally let you use my umbrella, even at the risk of making my jacket smellier! And whenever we encoutered a particularly precarious puddle (there are many in this flat town) I would help you get over them (you would think I was so sweet). Then maybe after you got done with class you could come talk to me at the information desk and we could listen to the new Say Anything rarities that I found on the internet. It would be a pretty awesome day. Then when I got off, maybe you could come hang out at my house for a little while, but you'd have to leave soon because Thursday is when I go to Buffalo Wild Wings with my friends.

Love Always,

Kyle

Overcast Day (Grumplestiltskin rears his head)

I woke up in an unpleasant mood today. This was both good and bad for me. Bad, because no one likes to feel bad, but good, because it allowed me to have things to put on the internet. Driving to work, I was pleased to see that Lubbock shared my melancholy and chose to express it with some grumpy looking, if relatively benign storm clouds.

But the clouds were helpful, they added a nice gloomy ambiance as I fashioned a makeshift soundtrack for the pity party I was throwing myself.

It's starting to rain outside. I have a pretty good view of some trees with the droplets splattering all around them. I feel just like Thoreau, if Walden was 3/4 parking lot.

I used to like a girl who was infatuated with rain. She always told me that her dream was for a guy who would call her every time it rains, just too tell her that it was raining.

For the next 9 months, this girl would get at least a text message whenever there was so much as a particularly dewy day.

Every time it rains I think about her, and while I don't have any feelings for her anymore, I have the benefit of being able to look back and recognize that as the beginning of my modus operandi.

Find out whatever a girl wants and try to be it.

If you are familiar with me outside the realm of this blog, you'll be aware that this strategy has not been particularly successful.

Is this a statement about humanity? Females in general? Just another nice guy finishing last?

I woke up this morning wondering why life was so unfair. How does a guy like me, a guy, who for all intents and purposes avoids any and all "unsavory" behavior, prove to be so unsuccessful romantically? How come so many dishonest manipulative douchebags end up with really great girls? I think I would be flattering myself to say that girls are turned off because I am too honest and noble, but I wish that were true. It's better than the alternative. I'm remarkably unlikeable.

But maybe the issue here is not women. Maybe it's me. Maybe it's naive to think that girls want the kind of romance people write about. Maybe my familiarity with Milan Kundera is not all that helpful in a practical sense. Maybe all girls want is a text conversation every night and a ride in daddy's car. This would be difficult for me historically because I only recently got unlimited text, and my dad is very protective of his car.

Maybe I try to hard (like John Mayer). Maybe girls can tell that I'm only doing things in an effort to please them. Which makes no sense to me. No one goes out their way to please me, with the exception of immediate family. Is every television program ever created right? Is it all about being yourself? (No, they are wrong, because in every television program ever created, when the protagonist tries and tries for a woman he eventually gets her and they live happily ever after)(e.g, Seth Cohen, Jim Halpert)(Both of those men are way better looking than me).

Why on Earth would I want to be myself? Myself is selfish and controlling and jealous and everything a relationship shouldn't be. I thought the beauty of romance was the willingness to sacrifice yourself, to give up on the things about you that could hurt the other person in favor of pleasing them. But maybe I'm just a pussier Francine Rivers.

Zach Braff would have you believe that you can center yourself by yelling into an abyss with Natalie Portman during a rainstorm.

The effect is not the same when you use your outside voice at a gutter while a construction worker and lunch lady look on during a weak drizzle.