college friends, dating, friends, read it love it, Short Story Love, tales from the dating trenches

Elevators, Stairwells and Stalking: A short-lived love story by Helen

I received this in an email Friday afternoon from my dear friend Helen. I haven’t stopped laughing since, nor have I stopped thinking about her brilliant perspective on the topic. 

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(Alternative title: Why I’m Single)

Preface

Even though this story has a disappointing ending, I take pride in what it says about the kind of girl I am. The following is a tale of perseverance in the face of adversity.

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Ever since I started working at the Avenue*, I’ve noticed a guy who works on my floor. He looks quite ordinary actually, but has a kind face. Of course, I’ve had boyfriends, prospects and fuckboys crop up throughout the past four years, so I’d never taken my interest past a polite smile in the hallway. Having been single (as fuck) for nearly a year and a half now, however; I hatched a plan to satisfy my curiosity. I vowed to ask his name and then use this information to ascertain his relationship status.

One day, I chanced upon him in the elevator. After exchanging a few comments about the weather, I mustered up the courage to inquire further. His name was John*. We shook hands. Discovering his last name was easy because I knew where he worked and, like most professionals, he had a LinkedIn profile. He was an analyst, had a master’s degree and, based on his undergraduate graduation date, seemed to be 37 years old. What proved more difficult was the utter banality of his full name: John Smith. Neither Facebook nor Google yielded clues. I told myself to be patient.

Some time later, after lunch with colleagues, I stepped off the elevator and practically walked right into him. A colleague, Reba*, mentioned that he seemed to be interested in me. Emboldened by her encouragement, I decided to renew my efforts. Another colleague, Ericka*, contributed her online sleuthing skills to the task, but alas: no immediate answers to the question of his marital status. I decided to go about the task the old-fashioned way — looking for a wedding ring. I thought I’d seen a wedding ring in the past (remember that I’d had an eye on him for quite some time) but according to Bridget Jones’ Diary, one in three marriages now end in divorce. Plus, it was clear that he totally had a crush on me.

The restrooms on our floor had been under construction for almost a month, forcing us to use the restrooms one floor down. As a result, we’d all been wandering the hallways more than usual. On one such occasion, I swung open the stairwell door and there he was. Taken by surprise, I forgot all about the mission, but managed to blurt out: Hey! How’s it going? To which he responded: I’m good, how are you? To which I responded: I’m good! Immediately after this strained exchange, I remembered my mission and lamented the missed opportunity.

A week passed without running into him and, knowing the restrooms would only be under construction for so long, I decided I could not leave our next meeting to chance. I began drinking a healthy amount of water, which forced me to roam the hallways at least three times more than usual. Finally, I saw the back of his head disappear into the stairwell. I calculated the amount of time it would take him to walk back up and then I waited. As soon as he turned the corner, there I was. I scanned the hand — no ring! I made my small talk and went on my way. Thinking about it later, I realized that I’d looked at his mirror-image left hand, which is to say, I looked at his right hand. This is exactly the type of thing I would expect myself to do at this stage of such a critical mission.

Back to the Internet. I began googling his name with the few facts I knew about him. John Smith Commerce Bank*. John Smith Redbranch Los Angeles California. I learned his middle name. I learned where he lived. I learned his home phone number. I stumbled upon a wedding registry for John and Jane Smith from 2015. Now I began googling Jane Smith. That led me to Facebook. I looked at all the Jane or Jane Smith profiles associated with the correct village. And then I found what I did not want to find. She was indeed married to him. She had updated her profile picture only two months ago with an image of their wedding. The jig was up.

In the end, I discovered what I think always knew. He was unavailable. Shame on him for having a crush on me, though.

Afterword

As I said, this story has a somewhat disappointing ending. But although I could not make John Smith love me, I must say that I’ve come to love myself even more. So dedicated am I to achieving excellence in everything I do that, if lack of chill were a sport, I’d make it to the Olympics no question. Does John Smith deserve a woman on that level? Does any man?

*Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.

 

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college, college friends, jayhawk, ku history, ku memories, march 2012, my life

On how much I love being a Jayhawk…

Note: This post may be a bit out of place, but I was born and raised a Jayhawk and in less than two months I will graduate a Jayhawk. It’s such a big part of my life and I love sharing it with you. 

My beloved Jayhawks (see photo above: me & my mom circa 1991. I loved the Jayhawks even way back when) are headed to the NCAA Final Four for the 14th year.  I love the game of basketball, I love the history, I love the tradition. But most of all, I love being apart of the Jayhawk Family.

I’d love to share some links that may explain what it means to be a Jayhawk a little be more:

My friends Sarah wrote this great post on “How it feels to be a Jayhawk.”
My friend Jayson wrote a brilliant essay/article on the “The Rules of the Game: Bill Self, Kansas, and basketball history
An “ode” I wrote to our 2008 National Championship back in 2009
Our Alma Mater & Rock Chalk Chant The rock chalk chant has a rich history which you can read more about here.
Former KU, UNC, UCLA, and NBA coach and Hall of Famer Larry Brown about our arena, Allen Fieldhouse:

“I tell everybody there’s not a place around—I know Chapel Hill, Pauley Pavilion, Cameron, you name it. They are pretty special, but there’s nothing like this. All the guys who scout, I always tell them, ‘You’ll never have an experience like Allen Fieldhouse.’ This is how a college fieldhouse is supposed to be.”

Rock Chalk, friends.
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best friends, college friends, june 2011, katherine and christian, my future, photos of love, summer 2011, true love, weddings

And love is either in your heart or on its way…

[6.11.2011 Christian & Katherine’s first dance.]

a few weekends ago two of my close friends got married to each other. 

it was a beautiful wedding on a cute farm in Kansas. and it was as dreamy as it sounds- and oh so much more.

i love weddings. absolutely, positively love them. whether it’s a dear friend’s wedding or someone i’ve never even met, my heart swells watching two people celebrate their never-ending love for one another.

and when my best friends marry the love of their lives– holy moly. my heart nearly jumps right out of my chest with happiness.

but i can’t help but wonder, how on earth will i keep my heart from exploding with love the day i marry the love of my life?

do they have vitamins to prevent that?

xo-

And life gets more exciting with each passing day
And love is either in your heart or on its way

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best friends, college friends, happiness, ku memories, life lesson, my future, Senior Year, spring 2011, writing from the heart

“What a wonderful thought it is that some of the best days of our lives haven’t happened yet.”

Someday I will host dinner parties & you will always be invited.

We will eat lovely food, and perhaps the first time I will try & have a hand at cooking a real meal. If it doesn’t work so well, the next time I’ll just have something ordered-in. But nevertheless, food will be plenty & drinks will be flowing. (Our drinks will be something “fancy” – you know, what qualifies as “fancy” to us: like sparkling grape juice & ice cold wheat beers– served in wee glasses, most likely a mason jar I’ve turned into drinking cups.

We will come together & every single time the conversation will start with something along the lines of “Where does the time go? It seems just like yesterday…” & for a moment we will all sigh & smile at that truth, & the fact it will be mentioned, just the same, at our next dinner party.

We will then talk of our lives.  We will share in roars of laughter & bicker about politics & how some of us still listen to Taylor Swift… but only because we know just how to each others buttons– & our quirks & differences are what we truly love about one another.

We will reminisce about all the memories we share & chuckle at our past selves.

“How could we have been so silly?” we’ll say.

“We worried about so many unnecessary things!” we’ll all agree.

We will laugh until we cry & cry until we laugh.

We will find ourselves chatting on & on about how our Loves drive us bonkers–but we all will smile at one another, knowing that none of us would trade them for anything.

We will talk of our past dates– especially the times we tried to set one another up.

“How on earth did you think he was MY type?” we’ll banter.

“Well, he turned out to be much different than i thought.” we’ll refute.

We will then joke & point out our most embarrassing moments & then we’ll sigh & say in unison, “how did we get through all of that?” 

And we will not say it aloud, but each of us, in our hearts will think:

“It was crazy, exhausting & one of the most confusing times of our lives…but we wouldn’t change it for the world.” 

“Not one bit,” we will quietly repeat.

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