Dinner was fantastic and I felt bad for wanting to rush. We went to this tiny Italian restaurant near the hotel and I decided to skip eating in fear of getting sick before my date. I nursed a 7-up and my co-workers clinked beer glasses while enjoying heavy Italian food.

I had a bit of time before Autumn and I were supposed to meet, so after dinner I went back to my room to wash my face and get the smell of restaurant off my clothes. Autumn called in between to say she was going to park the car at the hotel and meet me in the lobby.

She was watching CNN in the lobby when I came downstairs, her legs politely folded together while sitting on the lopsided couch.

“Hey you,”  I said, trying to sound casual.  I was actually really excited to see her, she looked even better in the crappy Holiday Inn lighting. She was wearing a pencil skirt and  boots, with a buttoned up peacoat and earrings.

“Well, hi yourself,” she answered, before standing up to unwrinkle her skirt.

“You look great,” I choked. I could feel my cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

“You look cute.” she smiled. “Whatcha want to do? There’s a cute bar a few blocks from here. Want to go?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” I liked the idea of walking with her rather than driving just because LA traffic gives me anxiety. Even at 9pm, cars whizzed down the main street and taxis recklessly cut between them to get to dangerously small spaces.

“I hope it’s okay we’re just walking,” Autumn said. “I hate driving in LA. It scares the crap outta me.”

The air was so cold that I could see my breath when I laughed at her jokes. The long row of bars and restaurants reminded me of my days in DC, the streets crowded with yuppies and indie kids. I didn’t notice it the other night, but she had really nice eyes. They were kind eyes, ones that bent into rainbows whenever she smiled at me.

We went to this bar called Power House, which I incorrectly assumed was a gay biker bar.  It was a tiny divebar with a lighted sign that reminded me of those really seedy strip bars you see in the movies. Inside was okay, though, fairly empty for a Friday night. We grabbed a high table in the corner and flagged over a waitress.

“I want to see your ID,” Autumn said. “I’ve never seen a Hawaii one before.”

“All right, but don’t laugh. I was having a bad hair…year,” I answered, reluctantly handing her my drivers license.

She smiled, rubbing her gloved thumb over my face. “Cute.”

I shook my head. “Lies, lies.”

Autumn ordered a glass of red wine and I got the mojito just because it seemed LA-ish to me. I stirred my drink while she told me about her day.

She swirled her wine glass before taking a sip. “You know, I don’t normally do this, just go out with a stranger. I’m very, very plain. Very boring like that.”

“I don’t normally do this either,” I reassured her. “Girls rarely notice me and I’m usually too nervous to talk to them anyway. I noticed you right away that night at the bar, but I was way too scared to say anything. So unfortunately I was just creepy and staring at you. I’m sorry.” I laughed nervously and then added, “so why did you talk to me that night?”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” she said, running her index finger along the brim of her glass. “That night, I saw you smiling at me and I thought you were so cute with your cheeks and dimples. But I was with my friends and you were with people too. I’m way too shy to just go up to someone, you know? Anyway, I knew you went outside when you did. I was hoping I’d see you when I was leaving. And I did.”

I didn’t know how to respond and I was probably blushing, so I took a long sip of my drink, letting the alcohol burn down my throat. “So, are you from here?” I asked.

“Yeah, well, sorta. I’m from San Fran actually, but I moved up here for school…”

“…where you do graphic design and hate on Arial font,” I added.

She laughed. “Yes, exactly that. What about you?”

“Just here on business for a few days,” I explained. “My boss wants to relocate us and we were just scoping out the area.”

“So you might be moving here?”

“Definitely moving here,” I said, “just trying to figure out when. I think he’s planning on some time mid-next year.”

“So what kind of work do you do?” she asked. Uh oh.

“Um…marketing. We’re an internet company,” I lied. I figured I didn’t know her well enough to gauge how she’d take the news–the real news–and I was having too much of a good time to want to ruin it.

She was great company and when John Mayer’s  “Who Says” rattled on the bar’s sound system, she bobbed her head and sang along. It’s strange to say, but it made me feel like we knew each other, like we had done this before. There was something so familiar about her and I was completely intoxicated by her company.

I learned Autumn was finishing up her degree at UCLA, alternating weekends between LA and San Fran when she got the chance. She preferred Helvetica font over Arial and absolutely hated when people used Comic Sans.  She lived in a tiny studio in West Hollywood and most of her friends were straight girls.  She rarely talked about her dates to them, unless they pressed her. I appreciated her candidness, it almost made me feel like we were old friends.

On the walk back to the hotel, we discussed our mutual addiction to Grey’s Anatomy and cheesy pop music. Autumn was much different than the Hot Mess and it put me at ease. For one thing, she could hold her liquor. Even when I noticed she was getting tipsy, she still spoke quietly, and was always very careful of her wine glass. At one point while walking together, I thought I saw her hesitate to reach for my arm and then jam her hand into her coat pocket instead. I turned and offered her my arm, letting her hand rest at the bend of my elbow.

For those short blocks back to the hotel, I imagined this could be my life in LA. I could see myself getting a drink with a cute girl with all the hopefulness of a teenager who had never been broken before.

“Thank you for the drinks,” she said when we got back to the hotel. “I had a great time.”

“Me too,” I added, unwrapping the scarf around my neck so I could breathe again. “Hey, I know this sounds kind of forward and I’m not trying to sound pervy or anything, but if you’re not in a rush, do you want to come back to my room? We can sit on opposite sides of the room, if it helps. I just like talking with you.”

I think she found my nervousness endearing because she smiled tenderly at me before saying yes.

The walk to my room felt a little awkward, especially when I opened the door for her and slid the card key in my back pocket. I didn’t want this to feel like something sketchy, so I made sure to sit on the opposite side of the room as promised.

“So have you had a lot of girlfriends?” I asked.

“A few,” she answered, plopping down in the chair next to the bed. “I’ve mostly dated guys, though. Is that weird?”

“Why would that be weird?”

“Some girls get all weird about that,” she explained. She slipped off her boots and crossed her legs, making herself comfortable in the oversized chair. “Sorry, do you mind? It’s an Asian thing, I think.”

“I don’t mind. Funny, I always thought it was a Hawaii thing. But I guess it’s an Asian thing.”

“I dated this one guy who never took off his shoes when he’d come over,” she said. “Even when I told him to, he never did!”

“In Hawaii, everybody takes off their shoes before they go inside someone’s house. I’m just so used to it, even when I go to someone’s house on the mainland, I do it and they think I’m strange.”

She giggled. “The mainland?”

I got up from my seat and walked over to get a bottled water from the mini-fridge. “Yes, the mainland! You’re technically a mainlander.  Want something to drink?”

“Water is cool,” she replied. I handed her the colder bottle and opened the tap-water temperature bottle for myself. When I leaned forward to hand it to her, it kind of felt like she was going to kiss me. “Thanks,” she said softly.

I sat on the bed near her chair. “No problem. Have you ever been to Hawaii before?”

“Once, but I was in high school and I went with my family. We did all that touristy stuff. It was really nice, though.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, “you’re not missing out. Hawaii gets old after a while and the hot weather is way overrated.”

“Is that why you want to move?” she asked, screwing the top back on her water.

“Sort of. I just need something new, you know? My life in Hawaii has become one boring routine. I don’t know if it’s my quarter-life crisis or what, but I need something new.”

Without saying a word, she got up from the chair and kissed me. I was nervous at first, but soon my lips relaxed and I enjoyed the smell of her perfume enveloping me. It felt like a cliche, kissing her in my hotel room on my last night in California, but I welcomed it.

Comments Posted: December 12th 2009
Filed under: The Good
Tagged In: autumn, LA, LA adventures, life could be sweet in la, the promise of something new

I’m not sure how people are reading this blog, but I’ve added a little Google FriendConnect widget on the sidebar where you can follow me.  Not sure what the point of it is, but if anything, it’ll make me feel important lol

LA is something else. It’s a beast of a completely different nature, something I’ve never encountered before. It doesn’t feel like a breathing entity, like New York City does, thousands of people pushing through at any given moment. LA feels like something that was torn apart, the best pieces tossed up and scattered, waiting for people to find.

I especially liked West Hollywood, with its tiny shops, swanky bars, and gay pride stickered cop cars.  When we drove through, it almost felt like I was coming home, as if this part of the city had a place for me in it.

Autumn had been on my mind,  but only because it hurt less than thinking about the Hot Mess.  Last night before bed, I tried to remember her features, and ended up falling asleep before putting together her face.  When I woke up, I had to rush and get ready to meet the rest of my co-workers in the lobby to go apartment hunting.

We saw at least seven different apartment communities, most of which seemed overpriced or just not right. One apartment community seemed clean enough, but all I saw were old Ukrainian people wandering the halls and peeking out through cracked open doors when we walked by. I didn’t ask for a rental application.

On the drive to the last apartment community, I received a text from an unfamiliar number.

“Plans for later tonight? This is Autumn btw.”

“Arial font hater? ” I texted back. “I’m free.”

“Haha! You remembered. Have anything in mind? Where are you staying? I’ll pick you up.”

I texted her the hotel name and address, minus the zipcode (which I didn’t know).  “I should be back at the hotel by about 9pm. Is that cool?”

“Perfect! See you then.”

I was glowing by the time we reached the last apartment viewing, but I didn’t tell anyone why, and gladly picked up a rental application before even seeing the units. The units there were surprisingly nice and affordable. I could actually see myself living in the studio there, but it could be because all the model unit furniture was much nicer than mine.

After touring the community and the gym room (which I’d never use anyway), we packed back into the van, and headed back to the hotel to get ready for an early dinner.

Readers, have you ever traveled to someplace new and felt like you’ve come home?

Comments Posted: December 12th 2009
Filed under: The Good
Tagged In: a welcomed distraction, autumn, LA adventures, los angeles, west hollywood

Before really having to sift through my hurt feelings from the whole Hot Mess–well–mess, I am now in LA on business. My boss brought the Hawaii office here  so we could scope out the area. So far, I have mixed feelings about LA.

The traffic here sucks and I hate to say it, but there are a lot of douchebags here. There are so many chisel-faced spray tanned girls and guys that I feel like I’m in some embarrassing VH1 reality TV show.

On the first night, we went out to this bar in west Hollywood, my co-workers and I squished together in a booth near the front window. The waitress was this cute  chick with a killer afro, pierced and curvy, who liked winking at us whenever she answered a question about the menu. The vibe was mellow and trendy, without being pretentious, and “Closer” by Kings of Leon filled the bar with unspoken desire.

At a long table diagonal from us, I noticed a cute asian girl in the space between my two co-workers. She had shoulder length dark brown hair that she would tuck behind her ear every once in a while during conversation. While stirring my mojito (I was hell bent on getting an LA mojito, don’t ask me why), I looked up to see her smiling at me.  When I smiled back, she kind of looked away and then continued her conversation with someone at her table who I could not see.

She was pretty, in a girl next door kind of way, and looking at her made me feel less angry about the Hot Mess.

My pants vibrated and it startled me. “Crap–I gotta take this phone call,” I told my co-worker. “I’ll be right back.”  It was my landlord making arrangements for replacing my broken washer/dryer.  While repeating the washer space measurements to him, the cute girl and her friends exited the bar. They were saying their goodbyes, hugging each other, and then two by two they hailed cabs for themselves and disappeared down the street.

I smiled politely at her and stepped back so she could get by.  She mouthed the words thank you to me  as she squeezed through the crowd of people waiting for cabs in front of me.  I finished my conversation with my landlord and slipped my cell phone back in my jeans pocket.

“Are you waiting for a cab too?” the cute girl asked me. “I don’t want to cut in front of you.”

I guess not all LA socialites are assholes. “No, no, just came outside to take a phone call. Go right ahead.” I shivered, zippering up my jacket so it probably looked like I had no neck. “Aren’t you cold? I’m freezing out here.”

“Nah, I’m used to it,” she explained while buttoning up her coat. “Are you from here?”

“From Hawaii,” I answered. “Just here for work. Any recommendations on things to do while I’m here?”

“Yeah, lemme think,” she said, biting her lip.

“Ah–this might seem kind of weird,” I stuttered. “Maybe you want to grab a drink while I’m in town? I mean, obviously not now because you’re already waiting for a cab, but you know, maybe sometime later? I realize that sounded really nerdy and I apologize.”

“You’re cute. Do you have a card or something? ”

I handed it to her, slightly embarrassed that the corner was slightly bent. “Sorry, it’s been sitting in my wallet forever. My phone number is on the back, though. I’m K—, by the way.”

“I’m Autumn,” she said, taking my card and examining it closely. “Is this Helvitica font?”

“I don’t think so. I think it’s Arial,” I answered.”I changed the letter spacing and everything, though. So it doesn’t really look like Arial.”

“Your cab, ma’am,” the usher said, tapping Autumn on the shoulder.

“I don’t like normally like Arial font, but I like the spacing you’ve chosen. I’m a graphic design major, sorry, totally nerding out on this stuff. Sorry to cut this short. But I’ll call you–how long are you in town for?”

“Till Saturday,” I explained.  “I’ll have a bit of free time on Friday night, if you’re free.”

“Perfect,” she smiled again, waving my card at me. “I’ll give you a call then.”

“Yes, please do. I want you to explain to me your hatred for Arial font,” I laughed.

She laughed, letting the cold air escape her mouth and then quickly disappear. “Have a good night,” she said, before slipping into the taxi and closing the door behind her.

Comments Posted: December 7th 2009
Filed under: The Good
Tagged In: autumn, cute girl with a hatred for arial font, LA adventures, los angeles, quarter-life crisis in california, the village idiot bar

I bought the Hot Mess a little souvenir from Seattle. Nothing fancy, just one of those vinyl blind box toys from Urban Outfitters.

“Can I see you today?” I asked, using my shoulder to press my phone against my ear while I silently ordered a bagel at this small coffee shop near the office.

“How was your trip?” She sounded distant on the phone, as if I had interrupted something.

“It was all right,” I answered. “Are you free later today? I brought you back something.”

“Come by after you finish work. I should be home by then.”

We hung up after, but I kept my ear pressed to the phone. I felt like I had missed something, some nuance in her voice that I was supposed to catch. I finished my bagel and walked back to the office thinking I should call her, but not doing it.

“Hi there, stranger,” I said when I picked her up. I thought I was being cute, but she only gave me a forced half-smile.

“How was your trip?” she asked.

“Good, just what I needed,” I sighed. “Hey, can you grab that package on the backseat? I got you something.”

“You got me a goody?!” she said, her face lighting up.

“Of course I did. It’s nothing fancy, though.”

She reached behind to grab the Urban Outfitters bag and dropped it on her lap. She took out the box and giggled at the chubby smoking rabbit printed on the side.  “I love it,” she said. “Thank you. Look which one I got.”

I turned to see her holding a plaid patterned smoking rabbit, fitting perfectly in her tiny hands.  “So you missed me while I was gone, huh?”

“No, who told you that!” she laughed.

“A little drunk birdie told me,” I answered, before she punched my arm.

“Well, maybe I missed you. Just a little.” She twisted the top of the Urban Outfitters package as if wringing out a wet t-shirt. “There’s something I have to tell you. It’s  important.”

“Sure, what’s up?” I asked. “Let me just pull into the parking lot ahead and you can have my full attention.” I turned into an almost empty parking lot connected to the beach. There were only a few cars there, mostly surfers sitting on the beds of their trucks talking about the waves.

Even after I parked the car, she didn’t say anything. I turned the car off, while Mandalay’s “It’s Enough Now” reached its climatic end.  “What are we?” she finally asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, what are we? Are we dating? What?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, never really thought about the logistics of all of this. I just know that I like spending time with you, that’s all.”

I reached across the seat to hold her hand, but she pulled away and folded both hands in her lap. “I don’t think you should do that,” she whispered.

“Oh–I’m sorry.”

“That night I called you,” she began to say. “I was out with a bunch of my friends. We went to this bar in town and I drank…a lot. I really missed you.”

“I remember you called.”

“So yeah, anyway, my ex was there that night.” At this point, she wasn’t even looking at me, just staring down at my gift on her lap. “She came right up to me and talked to me. Like seriously, what the fuck? She was making a really big scene saying she was so sorry she ever hit me. It was fucking embarrassing.”

I can’t remember if this is the point in the conversation where I feel like her story is going to make me want to vomit. “So what happened? Did your friends say anything?”

“No! They were dead fucking silent. Anyway, it was getting really out of hand so I told her let’s talk outside–”

I interrupted her, “Is that when you called me?”

She looked embarrassed, and then, defeated. “Yes.” Now the image I had of her drunk-dialing me has been re-formed with her ex standing beside her. I imagined her cooing in her ear as the Hot Mess tries to talk to me. I tried to not react, but I could feel my jaw tightening.

“So what happened?” It felt like pulling teeth from her, grabbing information I didn’t want but somehow felt I needed.

“Well, I don’t know. She and I talked for a while. And after she kind of sobered up, she was okay. I don’t know. I don’t know.” She shook her head and kind of smiled to herself.

“What? Just tell me already.”

“I slept with her last night.” I knew those words were coming, but they felt heavier when she actually said them. They filled the car with such tension that I had to roll down my window. I thought about her and her faceless ex having drunk, possibly regrettable sex somewhere and I felt sick.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s not like we were official or anything,” she said under her breath. “I don’t know.”

“I didn’t even say anything about that. I’m just wandering how you can call me and tell me you miss me and then go sleep with your ex right after.” My hands started to feel tight and hot. I didn’t feel like yelling at her, after all, she was right, we weren’t officially together.  We never made any agreement to be exclusive and honestly I never felt emotionally exclusive with her. But something about this guts me and leaves me feeling broken. Maybe it’s because the thrill of being with her has now been shattered by the reality that she’s not over her ex.

“Say something,” she whispered. “You haven’t said anything for the last 10 minutes.”

“I’m sorry. I really just don’t know what to say.” Eventually there really was nothing left to say other than sorry and the Hot Mess’ adamant assertion that we were never official followed by remorse for her actions. I drove her home and barely looked at her when she got out of the car.

“Can you call me when you get home? So I know you got home okay,” she says, peeking her head back in the car after she got out.

“Yeah, sure thing.” I drove home without remembering how I got there. I didn’t call the Hot Mess when I got inside my apartment and she never called me.

Comments Posted: December 3rd 2009
Filed under: The Bad
Tagged In: the end, the hot mess, this is why you're called the hot mess, time for something new

Oh baby, you’re a classic,
like a little black dress.
-Fall Out Boy

I’ve come back to my life feeling relaxed for once. My impromptu trip to Seattle was just what I needed. Most of the time spent there was with my family, but on my last full day I decided to this girl I used to like, Lana.

Ever watch “A Walk to Remember” with Mandy Moore? Lana kind of reminds me of Mandy Moore’s character, with less frumpy clothes.  Sort of. I’ve known Lana for years, back when she still lived in Hawaii.  I liked her for a better part of the summer when I was just 18 and I’d like to think that she might have liked me too. Nothing really happened between us, apart from flirting and sexual tension, but from time to time after she moved to Seattle she still crossed my mind.

After she moved, she joined a church there and became very religious, like one of those people who found ways to talk about God and the Holy Spirit in trivial conversations about food. I saw her once before about five years ago while I was visiting my parents, but she was too pushy about me going to church with her while I was there and it just killed the conversation.

For that reason, I usually avoid meeting up with her while I’m in town. I like the idea I have of her from years ago when she’d reach for my arm while we walked together. This new, almost religiously fanatic Lana is unfamiliar to me, and I don’t know how to act around her, so I usually just avoid her all together. This time, though, I felt like I wanted to see her.

“I have this whole adventure planned for us today,” she said when she picked me up. “I know you take pictures, so I chose some good places for us. Take any good pictures while you’ve been here? What have you been doing?”

“Sleeping, mainly, and eating. It takes up a lot of my time.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” she smiled. I like girls like Lana because you can hear it in their voice when they’re smiling, as if her mouth lifted up the words before escaping her lips.

We drove to this park that I’ve never heard of, which overlooked a bay and the Space Needle in the distance. We walked to the top of a butt-shaped hill and sat together in silence on a rusted bench. I snapped a few pictures of the landscape, but tried to take a few of Lana we talked. I had forgotten how pretty she was, with her bubbly personality and smile.

I asked her what she had been up to since I last saw her and she told me a lengthy story about God and moving out of her parent’s house. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I know you don’t want to hear this stuff and I don’t mean to sound like I’m preaching.”

“It’s fine,” I half-lied, after about 45 minutes of listening to her story. I wasn’t really interested in her story, but I liked hearing her talk. She was kind of cute when she was passionate, even if it was about God. She smiled in a way that made me feel a bit like we were on a date, but I quickly reminded myself this was exactly the opposite.

“Do you remember that night I slept over your house?” she asked, turning to see my reaction. “You know, I always thought I’d end up with a girl.”

That caught my attention. “You never slept over! I slept over your house once, but that’s it.”

“I did sleep over!” she argued. “YOU never slept over!”

“Well, obviously our time was amazing if it’s running a blank for you,” I said sarcastically.

She laughed. “I did sleep over your house. I remember.”

“Well, I slept over your house,” I countered. “I remember because the next morning I woke up hours before you did. The sun was shining right into your room and it was hot as all hell.” Oops, I said hell. “Do you remember our would have been date?” I asked, quickly changing subjects.

“We went to dinner, right?” She used her hands to unwrinkle her skirt. “But I think your ex-girlfriend came too!”

“Oh God,” Ooops. It’s hard to filter my language. “She insisted she come along and I remember  she was pissed when I decided I wanted to sleep over your house that night.” The breeze hit us then, so I jammed my hands in my pockets and leaned my face into my scarf.

“You’re so cute,” she said.

I didn’t know how to interpret it, so I just smiled. “So you thought you’d end up with a girl?”

“Yeah, when I was younger I always thought I’d marry a girl,” she said, in a very matter-of-fact tone. “That summer after we met and I moved to Seattle, I was really confused. I had dated a bunch of guys, but I always felt…I don’t know, just ‘eh’ about them. So I thought, I must be a lesbian, because I don’t believe in being bisexual. I feel like, you have to choose, you know?”

“So what happened?”

“I asked God if I was a lesbian and he said, ‘Lana, you’re not a lesbian.’”

I waited to see if there was more to her answer, but she didn’t say anything. “That’s it?” I asked.

“Yeah, just about,” she laughed.

I wanted to ask more, but I felt it would bring the conversation in to a really weird place. So instead, I let her lean against my shoulder and we sat together until the breeze got too cold for us to bear.

“Can we stop by my house?” Lana asked while walking back to her car. “It’s not far from here and I think my friend might stop by. I want you to meet her.”

Lana lived in this cute townhouse tucked away in a seedy neighborhood near downtown Seattle. “This place, right here, is my favorite,” she said, pointing at a fenced off area of concrete and tall, brown weeds.  “I don’t know why, I just think it’s beautiful.”

She unlocked the door and took her shoes off inside. When I turned around to close it behind me, she was right there. She just looked at me for a moment and then sighed, locking the door.

She led me to her bedroom (which was downstairs, surprisingly), took off her sweater, and tossed it on her bed. Her bedroom was practically empty, except for the bed, a tiny end table, and her laptop on the floor. “Haven’t really gotten a chance to settle in yet. You can sit down on the bed. I’ll be right back–do you want something to drink?”

“I’m good,” I answered, balancing myself to sit down on her bed. She disappeared upstairs and I tried to make myself comfortable.  Honestly, I always feel uneasy sitting on someone’s bed. It feel like it’s always a set up for sex, even if it’s not.

She came back to the room and then sat on the bed beside me. I tried to sit up straight so I wouldn’t look so frumpy. “I can’t believe you don’t remember when I slept over at your house,” she said.

“I remember other things,” I offered.

“Like what?” she said, crossing her legs and turning to face me.

“Remember that night we went to dinner and everybody ended up coming along? At one point you asked me to go with you to the bathroom. It was one of those one-stall places and you had me face the door while you peed. I remember it being super cramped and after you were finished and washed your hands, you tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned around and wanted to kiss you.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Dunno. Scared, I guess, and I just let the moment pass me by.” This would have been the moment that I would try and kiss Lana, but I was too scared. I couldn’t read her body language.  She looked as if she were waiting for something to happen, but before I mustered up the courage to follow through, someone knocked at the door.

“Must be Janey,” Lana said, touching my hand when she stood up from her bed. “I’ll get the door.”

I fixed my shirt and then followed Lana back upstairs to the main floor to see them hugging.  Janey was average looking, at least at first glance, but she was really friendly.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she said, walking over towards me. I extended my hand, but she wrapped her arms around me and gave me a quick squeeze. “Jesus loves you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What? I mean, oh, thank you.”

She guided me to the couch, staring intensely at me as I searched for Lana, who was filling glasses of water.  “So how do you and Lana know each other?”

I paused. “Ah–through a friend. What about you two? Church?”

“How did you know?” she said, hitting my shoulder.

“Just a guess.”

Lana sat next to me on the couch, our legs touching, putting the three glasses down. “In case you’re thirsty.”

“So tell me all about yourself!” Janey said to me. “What kind of work do you do?”

I didn’t know how to answer. I figured I don’t know this girl well enough to offend her. “Um…well…”

“Don’t lie!” Lana scolded me. “Tell her the truth.”

“Um.” I took a long gulp of my water. “I work for a porn company.”

Janey didn’t respond right away, so I was afraid I had offended her. “My goodness!” she exclaimed. “That’s hilarious. Like on camera stuff?”

“Oh, God no,” I said. Oops, didn’t mean to say that.  “Just behind the scenes stuff. Marketing.”

“That’s hilarious!” she laughed. Phew. “I know, let’s play a game so I can get to know you better. It’s called two truths and a lie. You go first.”

Why don’t I just tell you three things about myself? I was too lazy to think of a lie, so I tell her three true things in hopes of making things go by faster. Lana brushed against my side, our shoulders touching.

“Okay, my turn,” Janey said. “First thing, I didn’t cut my hair until I was a junior in high school. Second thing, I’m allergic to pineapple. Third, I hung out with hookers in Las Vegas.”

I shrugged, not really wanting to know which one was the lie.

“Well, I’ll tell you the last one…is true!” she answered.

“I want to hear that story!” I added. Big mistake.

“Well,” Janey started. “My church group and I went to Las Vegas to start a church.” I immediately tuned out then. Janey’s story lasted at least 45 minutes and Lana left the television off in the living room so I had nothing to look at. The basic gist of the story is that Janey makes friends with a hooker in Vegas that can’t find a church to join, until she finds Janey’s church. This hooker wants to get out of prostitution and get others out, so she makes little goody bags of chapstick, pads, earrings, etc. and searches the Strip looking for other hookers. “Jesus loves you,” the hooker tells the other hookers, giving her a goody bag. Apparently this was a big thing and the hooker called herself Hookers 4 Jesus. That was about all I could handle listening to, so I started counting the fine blond hairs on Janey’s arm.

Finally Janey took a breath. “Lana, are you crying?”

I shot around to see Lana wiping tears from her eyes. “It was just so beautiful.”

I obviously missed the cue to cry and it was too late to fake it, so I sympathetically patted Lana on the knee. “You okay?”

She nodded yes and then clutched her chest. “That really shows you the power of Jesus.” I figured at this point getting anything from Lana would be out of the question.

We hung out for an hour or so and then Lana offered to drive me home so I could have dinner with my family. Her and Janey were going to youth group later that evening, but I told them I’d pass. Janey rode in the backseat when Lana drove me home and I had to listen to a long discussion about I don’t know what.

When I got home, Lana got out of the car to say goodbye. She held me longer than I thought necessary and I felt obligated to stand in the driveway and wave at her until her car pulled out. I went inside the house, had dinner, and then unloaded my pictures from the day on my laptop. There was a candid of Lana from sitting together on the bench on butt hill that made me really wish I kissed her then.

Comments Posted: November 28th 2009
Filed under: My Life is Strange, The Crazy, The Good
Tagged In: are you serious, hookers 4 jesus, seattle, so much is left unsaid