In Which I Finally Chime In (Part 1)

It has been said that the first sentence is always the hardest to write. I’d like to voice my approval of that statement, especially when you’re writing means more to you than anything else on Earth.

Notice that I used that cliché as a first sentence. No, that’s not cheating.

Anyways, my name is Jacob Clifton, and I have something to say. In fact, I have a good deal to say. Down here in the South, a cliché abounds about strong, silent men, and their gabby wives. Fortunately, I’m just as gabby as any wife, and a good deal more opinionated. So for my opening of my side of “our” story, you’re going to be reading a lot about me.

That’s right. Me. You see, to truly understand my side of the story, you’ll have to understand me (or give it a good ol’ college try).

So, for the sake of artistry (and ease of writing), we’re going to travel back twenty months ago, to a house in Western North Carolina, and let the memories I have of who I was (and what I felt) take over the keyboard. Naturally, I don’t remember every exact thought that crossed my mind at the time, but the feelings and memories I remember, and those moments will dictate this narrative.

…….

It was the evening of the Seventh of June. And I was bored.

It had been a long day, and although I hadn’t done anything particularly interesting, I was tired. I just let my mind wander around as I mindlessly scrolled through various web pages that didn’t interest me (an activity we’re all familiar with).

My mind wandered to the girl I worked with at a local campground. She was cute. My sister, as usual, disapproved of my lady-friend. She always did. Sure, I’d had a dozen or so over the years, but still. I didn’t understand it. Why, she had even grown to hate..... The only one who had-

No, I wouldn’t go back there. I had passed that point, right? God has pulled me through it, just me and God. I was alright. Strong, self-sufficient.

I refreshed the “Exercise and Health Bonanza” topic on the Collegeplus Forums for the twelfth time in the past two minutes, for no particular reason. On this forum thread, I had made the grave mistake of mistaking a girl for a guy. Any decent person would have been horrified, but not I- I thrived off of the unusual and atypical.  I’d mastered the art of being unique and confident, and it’s amazing how girls fall in love with cocky guys.

Refresh.

Refresh.

Something caught my eye. No, not a new post, but something I had expected to occur. A certain young woman named Bethany had changed her profile picture. You see, she’s the one I had mistaken for a guy. I couldn’t even make out what her profile picture was of, but all I know is some person name “Kiaikid” who was passionate about fitness has fooled me into believing she was a guy.

And now she was a girl. The change of picture made that obvious.

I did a quick mental analysis of her physical appearance. Hmm. T-shirt and a skirt- typical of a hippy girl who probably is clueless about life. She was beautiful, in her own right, and she had changed her picture for me- that’s obvious. I had already mapped out the expected turn of events. It would go something like this:

Me: So I see you changed your picture.

Bethany: Yes, I did. You see, I really am a girl! Haha. Or maybe I still look like a guy in that picture.

Me: No, you strongly represent a very attractive female. You sure that’s really you?

Bethany: Yes! That’s me… and thank you (: You’re sweet (:

It was like taking candy from a baby. I had mastered the art of wooing. I was no Crunch Hardtack with thirty-inch biceps, or Johnny Cool with the flowing hair. My methods were infinitely more signature, and brought me a good deal of pride. Why, not too long before, every girl in my high school class (ten) had a crush on me.

So, in the natural course of events, I sent her a Private Message:

Nice picture ;P

Hmmm. A little bit silly looking. Perhaps the idiotic emoticon was not-needed. Either way, the conversation had started. It was going to go as expected.

Refresh.

Refresh.

Ah! She had responded:

Thanks! As you can see, I am female most of the time, although I distinctly hate female attire, and feel much more at home in unflattering sweatpants. But, I decided to change it for you, which was probably a mistake because you’re probably not worth my time. Anyways, how are you?

Well this is shocking.

That sort of response wasn’t supposed to happen. What was I supposed to say to that? Did this mean we were going to have to have a normal conversation?

What followed was a lengthy banter of witticisms, insults, and pleasantries. Was it fun? Yes. But I emerged with a sour taste in my mouth. Nothing irks me worse than not getting what I had expected or wanted. One thing I can say for certain though, this girl had guts. And I definitely wanted to talk to her again.

I went to bed thoughtful, needless to say.