Thursday, January 8, 2009

Dump. Such an ugly word.

I tell a lot of stories. Some people don't know how to react to these seemingly small events of my life, but when I get them off my chest I feel...the exact same as I did before I told them. 

So I had never really had much experience with airports until this recent Christmas break, when I decided to fly by the seat of my pants and have an adventure. I had met a young(ish) lad from San Diego and we had become what society would call "boyfriend/girlfriend" material. I met him because an old friend of mine had become acquainted with him at, believe it or not, the airport. So after months of talking, and a visit from him to Utah, I bought myself a flight to the good old Golden State. 

I should have taken my first night as a sign from someplace higher than my own naive and vulnerable soul. The flight was cancelled. I ended up setting up camp with an architect and a veterinarian in terminal C11 and spent the night with a beach towel for warmth and a backpack to support my neck. Airports are loud at night, and is it a rule that the night crew has to vacuum the same patch of carpet eight different times in one shift? Needless to say, my 45 minutes of hellish sleep didn't leave me with the best taste in my mouth. Or maybe that was just because the cheap toothpaste Delta offered us didn't do a good job. 

The rest of the week was a blast. Six flags, holding hands, being a girlfriend, seeing the ocean sounds incredible, right? That's what I thought too, until tables turned when we got to the airport to send me home and we stood near the security gate saying goodbye. 

"Have you felt something weird the past few days?" he inquired. "I think we need to go back to being friends."
"Wow. What the hell?" I thought and then asked for a reason for this change of heart and relationship status.
"I realized a few days ago," he started, "that maybe I'm not as attracted to you as I thought I was. Have you ever heard of pheremones?"

REALLY? Was I all of a sudden in science/health class? Did he really just pull that one out on me? Talk about feeling like a complete idiot. Isn't something like that a factor you can figure out the first time you physically interact with someone? 

So I walked away knowing I would never see that boy again and feeling like an ugly hag of a human being, but you know what? He's the one missing out. I'm past it. Too bad I didn't get that architect's number...

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