Usually I give a six month grace period for dating stories for privacy reasons of the girls I am trying to date (or to ensure my own safety). Well this one has been over a year in coming. It has taken me this long to be sure it would be okay and reader beware--there is a little bit of cursing in this story.
I had broken up with a girl a month earlier and was still (pretending to be) upset about it. I decided I would take a new initiative and ask out a girl I thought was out of my league (not fishing for compliments...unless you were lured in). Her name was Michelle (name has not been changed). She was crazy beautiful, a perfect party host, dressed like a polo model, cooked like Paula Deen and either didn't eat her food or worked it all off.
I did my recon to find out if she was single, where she lived and her social (status). You know, the usual. Yes, nearby and 343-19-3... And it turned out that she was nice and had a testimony too. So off to the races.
From previous encounters (stalkings) I knew that she loved to bake and was from the south. So I got a bag of flour and drew a flower on it (see what i did there...?) and brought it over to her apartment to 'call on her,' as they say on the losing side of the Mason-Dixon, to ask her for a date.
I get a pep talk from my roommates, a final call of affirmation from her friend and march over to her apartment to ask her out and have a great story to tell our grandchildren.
Now--let me do a quick sidestep for this obviously shocking detail: I have a polarizing personality. Accordingly, a lot of people don't like me very much. Some people really don't like me. About 3 people hate me. One of them share's Michael Scott's zeal for Toby about me. Let's call her...Satine (name has been changed...but only slightly).
I knock on the door of my soon to be former future ex girlfriend and guess who is there? Go ahead. Guess....
The door opens.
My mouth drops.
"What are you doing here?" Satine stood before me, facial expressions cutting my heart with degrading daggers of dumbfoundedness.
"uh...I'm here to see Michelle...is she here?"
I see Michelle sitting on the couch and shuffle past Satine to occupy the spot next to her. Satine takes a seat across from us and begins to burn a hole through my shaken self confidence.
"Um..." I look at Michelle, hoping to get some reassurance.
My mind races. 'Okay, Zack. Stick to the plan. The bag--go to the bag!'
"I know you like to bake so I brought you this flower" [hold up bag and chuckle].
Silence. (A lot of silence.)
"...well I was wondering if I could ask you to lunch this week because--"
Satine immediately stands up and claps her hands. "HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL NO! No no no no NO! There is no way that you are taking out my roommate, Zack Oates! None. I'm sure you are a nice guy, but no! Michelle, you can make your own decision. I'm leaving though. I can't see this. Let me know when he's gone."
And with that, she goes to the kitchen, grabs a small kitten to eat with her side of self-(es)steamed Oates, and goes to her bedroom.
'H'm...that wasn't the plan,' monolouged my deductive reasoning.
Michelle smiles and politely declines the date, but accepts the flour.
An hour later, I got a call from Satine to apologize for her actions and admitted that she wasn't sure why she hated me so much, but was sure it was because I had done something to someone she liked at one point (I didn't argue with her on the specifics). But we did make up and while we have never hung out on purpose, we have shared a few smiling hello's and exchanged pleasantries.
You know...I'm still trying to figure it out. I know that it has made me excited to not have to ask out girls, it made me grateful for everyone who doesn't hate me, it humbled me (don't worry, I've since recovered from that)--but what do you think? What should I have learned from this?
With your help, maybe it isn't a year-long lost cause to the recesses of repressed regrets(+3).