Okay, this is more of a 'yeah, I fucked up' thing here, although constructive criticism would be helpful.
- Okay, so I go to this camp in Canada, by the name of Camp Kodiak. Good place, water-skiing, rock-climbing, all that happy-crappy. You stay there for 7 weeks max. 300 people or som, boys n' girls, seperated by gender in cabins or about 10 campers and 3 counselors.
- Kay now they got night activities, like, movie nights, and campfires and shit like that. Every Friday night though, was a dance. A dance, dance. Dates, spiff-clothes, the works. My story starts at my second year, when I was about 15.
- I get ready like normal. A few more of the 'cool' guys in my cabin already had dates, or at least assurances of dances. I didn't, as usual. Not that I tried, I might have otherwise. But although you could always get a dance from one of the girl counselors, I wasn't that desperate to be dancing.
- So I'm out there anyway though. I can dance okay; slow dancings not my thing, but I could pull off a passable moonwalk even back then, and dancing in general was okay. B ut whenerever a slow dance came on, I had to gtfo the floor, and basically fell like shit next to all the other losers who didn't have a date.
- But I say fuck it and get out there anyway before the next one starts. *Bump* "Sorry." I manage to a curly-haired tan girl standing next to me. "It's cool. Wanna dance?" I was probably the luckiest fucking guy in the room. Lydia. Her name was Lydia.
- The whole next 5 weeks I had left in camp had all my free time spent in her company; talking, swimming, accidently sinking a canoe. It was good times. We went on a hayride, she kissed me at the end, and I fucking floated the mile back to my cabin. After a camp fieldtrip to the nearby town of Perry Sound, she managed to get on my bus, and she fell asleep on my shoulder. I sat like a statue the entire way back, afraid of waking her up, only moving to ruffle ruffle her hair with the lightest of touches. Beautiful, smart, I had no clue why she liked me. And I forgot, older too, She was 17.
-The last day of camp, before I got on the bus to the airport, we sat next to eachother and promised to keep in touch. She lived in Canada, and I near Chicago, but we would call every big holiday, and email as often as we could. I got on the bus serene, looking at her through the grimy window. She had kissed me again, and I still had the scent of her hair in my nose.
- I almost didn't make t the next year. A mere half-month before leaving, I was struck with gastroenteritis. I couldn't keep anything down, and lost more than 20 pounds. My parents took my to a hospital. After trying 11 times, a nurse managed to get an IV into my thinned, dehydrated veins. The sleep I managed to get was filled with dreams of her; she had been chief in my mind the last 3 months, and now it seemed like I had waited, only to have her taken away. Against my parents wishes, I got out of bed 3 days later, and forced myself to eat. Cleared by the hospital after regaining 7 pounds, I left only a few hours late.
- I saw her the next day at camp. She said she had waited for my by the road leading into camp. I apologized. We resumed what we had left behind the year before. The next 4 weeks were bliss.
- I made a mistake the 5th. Several actually, but one of the largest that week in particular. We were sitting on the beach again. Lately I had been leaving her there with her friends. She wanted me to stay, I wanted to swim with my friends. Not a big thing, I was sitting with her that day. Then she delivered the bombshell. With a slightly quivering voice, she said "I think I love you."
- I sat there. What? She what? What do I say to that? What do I do? I mumbled thanks and sat there. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I can see her there now, working herself up to asking, and then after the initial relief of telling me, a growing cold or fear as I said nothing. A huge fuckup. Was I that insensitive, youth aside? I guess so.
-The next dance? I begged off, feigning sickness. I was a little freaked, not nowing what to say or do. But how must it have been like for her? To bare herself, then get nothing. The next two weeks, we spent almost no time together. I thought then I didn't do anything, but now, I can see that the silence from me must have been deafening. The beach, and then the dance. What could she do? She was only a year younger than I am now.
- So the next week she dumped me. Dumping is too harsh of a word, she really didn't want to hurt me. But I was dumped. She mentioned she would be going out with another boy(a bald, half-retarded asian kid in my mind at the time) but hoped we could still be friends. I felt crushed, too crushed to notice she wasn't at the dance with him.
- The next week was hell. Literally hell. I saw her everyday, I couldn't help it. At the next dance, I'd almost start crying whenever I heard one of the songs we'd danced to. I had to leave when I heard the one that had been playing when we'd met the year before. I thought I'd be okay when I got home. But it wasn't until then I really started figuring out what I had done.
- I wasn't. I got into a real case of depression. School was shit again. I turned to fucking reading romance-comedy graphic novels. Listened to dark music. Dropped by my grampa's house when he was asleep just so I could open his(unlocked) gun cabinet and stare down the barrel of his Army .45 on bad days. Of which I had a lot.
- I know more about myself, and about her now. I was the dick, the ones you see in movies who ruin the lives of the good girls, I just figured it out sooner. Ever since I was a kid, I've been someone who's really empathetic, but for some reason had trouble understanding her. So I didn't know I was hurting her, but that didn't mean I couldn't figure it out. And when I did, it made me feel like a huge bastard.
- She was my first girlfriend, and my last. I didn't go to either of my proms, didn't go on any dates, didn't ask anyone out. Now that I know what I really did, I wish I could talk to her, wish I could say that I was sorry. But I don't have her email or her phone # anymore. So unless I work some magic, I'm never speaking to her again.
- I've never been the most self-confident guy. My username isn't a joke or anything, and though there are other people out there who are worse off, my combination of empathy, and flawed short-term people skills fucks with me in so many ways. "Why am I worth it?" I ask myself. "Why even try?" You guys can talk about how I'm shooting myself in the foot before I start the race orsomething, and it's true, but it doesn't help. I know this. It doesn't help.
-Wow more than 5,000 words. Sorry for being a space hog. I'm not asking anything in particular, just commenting on the sorry state of my social life. I have buddies I hang out with, watch movies, smoke with, but that's not the same. I'm going to be a sophmore in college and I have no clue how I could ask any girl out.