God... you know, sometimes I'd give just about anything... the clothes on my back, the metal in my face... all of it, just to be in the bar booth with that Hostess again. It's such a very vivid memory. It's sad and painful now... but bittersweet at the same time. I'm not sure what makes her special... girls have come and gone before and after her... but my mind always wanders back to her. It settles on her probably more than it does on my first (only too, I guess) love. It's so crushing to think that I had her... I had her, but she sort of just changed her mind. And maybe I was a jackass the way I dealt with my revelation but that can't be helped now. Hell, maybe I didn't overreact at all though, it's impossible for me to tell, myself, although most people would say I was too harsh. I try to think that at least I have the booth memory, something that isn't tainted in my mind (a rarity), but that doesn't always work. An apology wouldn't begin to cover things... because I'm not sorry I got mad. It's about all I could have done, really. Let out anger or explode... and I guess I sort of did both.
Maybe if I had seen her in her regular clothes earlier. I had always just seen her in uniforms, right? When I did see her in her own clothes it was too late anyway. Her and a friend came into work (after I made a jackass out of myself) before going out somewhere else (so I was not acknowledged at all, it's not like I blame her though) ... and they were dressed like maybe they were going to a *cLuB*. BUT from these clothes I discovered something else... she had very nice cleavage. My eyes bugged out, not having been previously aware of this, and I screamed ‘SHIT!!' in my head. And then later on I realized that part of that heaving bosom was pierced. Even louder I screamed, giving myself a headache of course. Oh yeah, I gave myself a pretty sweet headache screaming to myself that night. I didn't even know this girl had breasts before... the short hair and angelic face were enough for me to concern myself with while sighing hopelessly in bed at night. And she was sweet, in her own way of course... and she'd try not to smile at me, but it would hack through anyway. This before all the viciousness, of course. God, I royally fucked up, didn't I? Pretty much. I'd be at work, and just nothing else mattered. Homework? What's that? Parent's telling me I'm how dumb? Who cares?! It was work, it was a utopia to me. And she thought I was intelligent, for a time anyhow. Heh, for a week I thought I had it all... now I feel like I have nothing to lose, but keep losing it anyhow. But there's something that bothers me more than all that. Somehow it spread through work. Not my evilness, although that probably did too... leading to my basic firing... but something else. It was bad enough that what spread did, but somehow it mutated, as rumors and the such have a tendency to do, right? I still remember the night I went in so very vividly, and it still bugs the hell out of me. I had checked the schedule earlier in the week to get my hours. I wasn't scheduled on the day she was. She worked on a Saturday, I think, but I did not. So I went in to make some plans with her. I told my parents that I was going to work, which was no lie, so they gave me the van. Just for show I tool my work shirt with me. I got there and discovered the morons in charge had once again shown their scheduling incompetence and there wasn't anyone bussing. And it was actually busy too. So to the management I looked like a saint sent straight from heaven. "Can you work?" they asked me. I said well yes... but I had just come to talk to someone. But in the pandemonium she was busy anyway, so I figured I might as well help them out. I snagged my work shirt out of the car and put in 2 hours or so, all the while trying to get a word in edgewise with the Hostess. I feel like I should be writing this in the third person. It's just like something I'd make up. You'd think when I'd write stories with me in them I'd win, but not usually. Thats too far out for me. But anyways... at the start of the end, myself, her and an Evilscagwaitress were arranging tables or something of the sort in the non smoking area. For some horribly wrong, wrong, wrong reason, the scag took the two of us aside, put her arms around us and said, "look, I know you two have a date tonight but blah blah blah" something like ‘the faster we do this the faster you kids can get out of here' or something. My jaw *dropped*. Just dropped. With the scag doing a vanishing act, the lovely Hostess looked at me sort of blankly and said, ‘I didn't know we had a date'. I said I didn't either, but it didn't sound too believable. But it was true! I had no idea of any of it. That pissed me off. So okay, what does the Hostess think? She thinks the Busboy has been spreading it around that the two of them have been doing things they haven't to look like a stud. He might have even said he scored to the male bar staff, the asshole. Great. So then she looked at me a little disgusted (her expression never really changed that much unless she was smiling, you sort of had to do some guesswork). I felt like shit. So we went about our work til about 11, I think, and then had a little palaver. In the end it came down to her changing her mind about me, maybe calling an audible on me I don't really care because I guess she had enough reason already, right? And then there was the part about me being depressed like hell. I think that was the first night I stayed at the bar after my shift to have a reality-smearing drink. Didn't turn out to be the last time anyhow. No, the night I found out that she found out about my shitty little web page here I sure pounded back a couple. Geez, I was completely crushed then, wow. You know, I almost forgot why I started telling this story in the first place. I just... well, it seems that I've failed again. Yeah, big surprise, but I failed again. I'm just a rotted out fuck up it would seem (it would SEEM, remember... not for sure is). I mean, this newest failure of mine was interested in me, came after me... and still drizzled away. And I guess I was just trying to remember with this whole spiel that there have been better days. I guess maybe I should remember that I'm a mistake, and I wasn't supposed to have good or bad days at all... so there. Not quite problem solved though. I still feel pretty rotten. There's really nothing I can apologize for, if there was then I would. I want to make my life a little better is all. Should I feel sorry for that? Should I be sorry for initially caring about someone? Nah, don't think so. Well, I'm sure there is something I could apologize for and mean it, but it escapes me. I'm sure if someone sees it they'll point it out though... hint, hint to some certain people.

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