Is this what they call... love?

“Is this what they call… love?”

Part One
I had always been sick and tired of the way girls work. Their mixed signals and phony smiles. It’s hard enough to find love as it is; a needle in a hay stack, without some of the hay pretending to be needles or maybe the needles pretending to be hay, pricking you and hurting all the while urging you on to keep searching until finally you just--
I couldn’t comprehend. The whole subject had me confused and angry. I mean, where do they get off? They have no problem being extra friendly, but when it comes right down to it, they are never sure. They’re always “confused.” Apparently unless a female is looking at a situation that is crystal clear, bright as a light, plain as a farmer (or something like that), she is too confused to get involved and better mull it over for a year or so.
This is what I’m thinking as I logged off the internet, mumbling under my breath and sighing heavily. It was a week before that I messaged the girl on the social site pretty much every college student cannot live without (or so it seemed). The message was simple enough: “Hey, I'm just checking in to make sure that you returned that pencil you borrowed... just kidding. after seeing you around here a couple of times (and you gave me that slice of pizza), I had to say that I think you're real cute. It'd be cool if we could chill sometime...” Well, maybe not that simple. I had never told a girl straight off that she was cute, let alone had the audacity to suggest hanging out with her. It was a pretty big step for me.
Anyway, I bet from that message you’re wondering what’s with the pizza and the pencil. The week before when I sent that message, I had bumped into her for the second time. I was playing Mario Kart with my buddy down in his room. He lived on the first floor and I was on the ninth. This is important because I may as well been in a random room in my dorm for the purposes of this situation. Well, she knocked on his door looking to borrow a pencil. A pencil! Of all things that anyone would go knocking to borrow, of all doors to knock on, and of all floors to need a pencil on. All of this was running through my head as I propped the door open with an outstretched arm. I asked her what her name was; I had never gotten it from the first time I met her- when she gave me, a stranger, a slice of pizza. Her name was Ashley Johnson and she lived on the seventh floor. The name and floor was tattooed into my memory so fast it was almost as if the ‘Flash’ himself did the job. I was flirting hardcore too. My friend walked behind me to his desk to get the pencil and I continued to talk to her. The only thoughts that pulsed through my mind were constantly reminding me how gorgeous she was. I can’t even remember what we talked about outside of her asking for a pencil and me finding out her name.
After she took the pencil and expressed her thorough appreciation, we said goodbye and the door slowly closed on its mechanical hinge. I just stood there sort of wind-blown. Looking back on it now, I can imagine my hair actually swept back and my shirt hanging onto me in disarray. Before turning back to my seat, I made sure to wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth so my friend wouldn’t see.
I’m pretty sure I lost the rest of those games I played in his room that day and later on, when I entered my quarters that night, my only mission was to log on that website and look her up. I couldn’t have been more excited.
That was a week before. A full seven days. If I haven’t mentioned earlier, this website is one that everyone goes on at least once a day. It’s like checking your mail. And if you aren’t as dedicated as the rest, you would at the very minimum look on the weekend when you had a spare moment. Apparently, I wasn’t worth a spare moment. I shut off the lights and climbed up into my bed which was head-height off the floor. My mumbling continued as a ruffled around in the sheets and finally came to rest on my chest as I assumed my “prayer position.” I went through the usual thanks as well as prayer requests and finally I arrived at my evening prayer time for some “me” inspired requests. As I had been for the past month or so, I asked the Man Upstairs if He’d mind sending me a girlfriend. Recently I had been feeling pretty lonely up here in Tallahassee and it didn’t seem like I was bumping into the right people to find myself good company. All I wanted was a girl to talk to and spend time with that understood me and I her. I was tired of people you can only share select parts of your life with. In any case, I said my piece to my Father and drifted off to sleep.
The next day, I woke up yawning and all that other morning “stuff” that people do. As I got dressed, I looked at my computer fighting the urge to check just one more time. My argument with myself was that if I had any dignity I wouldn’t check over and over like a nerd checking his mailbox every day since he sent away for those x-ray specs. A lesson for all people: never attempt this inner struggle that only is a struggle that you alone know of. You lose every time to the urge. At least I had justified my logging on with its purpose to check if any of my other friends had some dire need to hang out or play basketball. As the home page loaded up my eyes immediately shifted to the ‘message’ folder. One new message? This was obviously Mark or one of my other pals. Well, that’s what I told myself to suppress that humiliating voice in my head that couldn’t stop reminding me it could be her. Apparently that voice got a freebie that day. Indeed, the unread message was from her:

“Just so you know... I did return your top of the line pencil, before getting your cute message.
I have to say, that was one of the best things I ever did with a slice of pizza. Smiles... Ashley J.
P.S: You're adorable!”

I believe that it goes unsaid that this response resulted in unparalleled excitement that only someone of the opposite sex can deliver and even this description may be an understatement. Of course, my response was immediate and very, very well thought out:

“::putting hands in pockets, looking at the ground, and kicking a rock:: me? adorable? nawwww. lol. I think you are though... What do you think about hanging out some time? I'm kinda busy with Relay for Life this weekend, but next weekend would be cool. Tell me what you think...
-Mike”

I never got a response back, but that was only because later that day I received an instant message on AIM from her. We ended up going out to lunch mere minutes after the conversation ended. As I raced out of my room and towards the elevator bay, I felt a shift in my luck.
Suddenly I felt like the odds weren’t in the house’s favor any longer.