This one time, at band camp...Kidding.
I never went to band camp. I went to horse camp, but no good story comes to mind from those days, so that's not where this is going.
Let's start over.
I write romance novels. Chances are, that's what ties you and me together. Our love for...well, love. And who can blame us? Love has the power to bring out the best and the worst in us. It can make us strong or be our greatest weakness. It can make us move mountains or make us do some of the dumbest shit in the history of dumb shit. In short, love is entertaining as hell.
And it doesn't even have to be fictional.
When I was in my early twenties I fell for this guy...we'll call him Noah. True Story or not, I must maintain some sense of dignity in my more humiliating moments.
Anyway, Noah was funny and smart and gorgeous and so completely totally all wrong for me. He was bad news and, because love made me stupid but heartache made me scared, I knew from the moment he began dowsing me in his charms that I needed to stay away from him as far as humanly possible.
Naturally, we saw each other nearly every day. Had all the same friends. Went out to all the same places. Hung out. Talked and laughed for hours on end at times. But, always, in the back of my mind the voice nagged on to not be fooled. He was a player. A cheater. And I was far better off being his friend.
Thing is, you can't be friends with a guy like that. And the more attached I became, the harder it was to watch him be that charming, flirty guy with girls who were dumb enough to take a chance on him. (No bitterness there :-P)
So, I did the only sensible thing I could. I increased the distance between us. By about 2000 miles. I moved. Not just because of him, but a lot because of him. And, because love and twenties equals dumb, so you do dumb shit like move across the country to stop some hot guy from flirting with you.
As I was driving across county, through deserts and mountains and emptiness, I passed an abandoned building sitting in the middle of no man's land. It reminded me of a prison. Fitting when you think about it...anyway, it was covered in graffiti of all kinds and right there, smack in the middle of it all, in huge writing were the words 'I love Noah' surrounded by a big heart. Not kidding. I cursed, hit the gas and pressed onward.
Fast forward six months, and I'm making the same trip home. Because, love and dumb and twenties, and I couldn't get over him. 2000 miles did NOTHING to get him out of my system.
Then, as I passed that same shit building, I noticed it had some new art...where it had originally said 'I love Noah', it now simply said, 'Noah is Back'.
Talk about a freaking sign!
Our love was destined to be epic.Noah was my soulmate. Obviously.
And it wasn't long after I got back that our paths crossed and we continued our ridiculous games, until finally, one night, we kissed. Magic, right? Wrong. Worst kisser ever. No connection. No life changing nothing.
We're dumb in our twenties.
Sometimes I still think about him and pretend the kiss wasn't as bad as it was.
When it comes to love and our innate desire for epic romance, we can be dumb in our thirties too.