Four>>>I've Always Been A "Slammer"
I left my first ceramics class in a hurry and slammed the car door. Have you noticed that trend for me? My mom says I’ve always been a “slammer”. I can remember her yelling down the hall to me growing up, “Open that door back up and close it correctly!”
I chose to call the class ceramics, a. because that’s what they call it. And b. because it sounds more masculine than pottery does. In reality, it sucks every ounce of masculinity out of you and when you’re a guy like me, suspected sometimes to be metro sexual and proven to have highlighted your hair, you need all the masculinity you can salvage.
I’ll bet you expected I’d meet some beautiful, witty girl in my ceramics class. We’d have to be partners and share the same table. She would casually make fun of my art and look me in the eye one too many times for her own comfort. On the way out I’d ask for her number and she’d give it to me, trying to act hesitant, but completely willing.
But there was no beautiful girl in my ceramics class. Well, there was one. But she was taking the class with her fiancée. I suspect hitting on her wouldn’t go so well.
In a way, I am all the happier I made it out of my first class without a new love interest. I’m supposed to be focusing on myself right? Not pulling other people into my life to patch it up? Although, I cannot deny the feeling of disappointment that snaked through me when I realized I was sitting next to a couple middle aged women, married, with children. I wonder if any of them are old enough to have a 20 year old daughter..18 maybe. I could go for a younger girl.
I start the car and crank the radio up. I’m focusing on myself. No relationships right now for Taylor. Nope. None.
I rest my head against the headrest and take a big breath- my preparation for some major belting.
“I’m freeeeeeeeeee. Freeeeee faaaalling.”
“This is getting really lame you know.”
I open my eyes and look at my little sister standing over me.
“This laying around, sulking about your life- or lack there of.”
I close my eyes again and ignore her.
“And it’s not like I didn’t always know you were lame. Because I did. It’s just…this really confirms it Taylor.”
She’s only yanking my chain. Teasing me because she can.
“I’d suggest you stop wallowing in your wretchedness and find something to make you happy. At least when you go right to rebound after a break up you’re not this sulky. Go find some fan and….entertain yourself.”
Maybe my plan sucks. Maybe she’s right- how is that better than a new relationship? I’m laying on the kitchen floor on a Friday night while even my 10 year old brother is out with friends.
“Go call Jedidiah. Do something.”
Yeah. Maybe I’ll call Jedidiah.
“Are you going to respond?”
I shake my head. Even though my eyes are closed, I can almost see her roll her eyes and walk away from me in disgust. I hear her get something from the refrigerator as she walks away. When I know the coast is clear, I sit up and look around me. I crawl to the phone and dial Jed’s number.
“Jedidiah. Come pick me up.”