I took a nap in the library before class today, because I didn’t have to do anything in my first class, and what woke me up was somebody in a dream telling me, “Ginny, you’re going to be late to your history class.” This jolted me awake just in time, in fact.
I headed outside where I sit with Corey (who was in D.C. yesterday, hence why he was not in class) and Know-It-All (and sometimes Katie) every day, and sometimes a couple guys from my history class, and they were all there, and Katie and I were cackling about random things, when all of a sudden, Dean the Mormon walks right around the corner.
I never see him at that time of the day on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and yet there he was, and so Corey and Know-It-All both greeted him, and he had a nametag on because he’d just come from work, and Katie said, in a semi-low voice, “Is that…?” And I said, “Yes.”
“I can’t picture you kissing him,” Katie said, an evil tone in her voice.
“Shut up!” I hissed. She continued to grin. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been such a bad situation. I looked up at him, and he sort of glanced at me, and then he immediately looked away, never said a word to me in the entire time that we sat there talking about class yesterday, (“L’Owen?” Katie guessed correctly) and never even looked at me. (Katie, naturally, found this quite humorous.)
And then he walked away. Never a word; never a glance.
Speaking of which, when he didn’t walk me to my car yesterday, he also neglected to say good-bye. As I suspect, the only reason conversation was exchanged at all was because he had my book.
And then as we were walking into class, Corey noticed that something was wrong with me, and started interrogating me, but of course, what could I say? I couldn’t say anything, so I didn’t.
I didn’t mention this yesterday, but when I got home, I made some comment about some hot guy on the TV, and my mom, who was holding the bird and speaking in her baby voice, said, “No cute boy for Sunshine…cute boy for Ginny, but not Sunshine. Ginny has a cute boy; his name is Dean.”
I’m like, “Uhh…no. No, she doesn’t.”
My mom looked up at me and said, “Why not?”
I gave a very brief explanation (I told him I didn’t want a commitment, so it was over) and she acted annoyed with me! Why would my mom not be supportive of me!? So then I just felt even worse, and reminded myself why I don’t like telling my family things.
To change the subject slightly, I also left out this story about yesterday in class when we were critiquing this one girl’s poem. She works in a grocery store, and one day a drag queen called her up to ask for eyeliner, and then just started telling her about being a drag queen. It was a really funny poem; anyway, L’Owen looks around at all the guys and says, “Have any of you ever dressed in drag?” A couple of them had stories: Randy had worn a dress once when he was eight, etc.
L’Owen to whom I was unfortunately not paying a great deal of attention, as I had other things on my mind like trying not to be sick and worrying about the gap between my desk and Dean’s, was grinning as he told this story about how he and his wife like to make fun of each other, and one time he put on one of her bras and started laughing at her, and I’m thinking, “I must have missed something here” and everybody’s looking around at each other oddly, most of them laughing…it was rather interesting. I really ❤ the guy.