R+ Fantasy:Chapter 1

Well, no plans for another weekend. Not what I had anticipated from my post-college life.

A brief history. In the first grade, I began to stammer in class. In a note to my parents, my teacher inquired as to what was causing my anxiety. Not at all. American family life in its entirety. I had two loving parents and an older sister. I began to stutter everywhere after a few months. I couldn’t hear the lecture because I had fluid in my ears, it turned out. That’s what frightened me.

After attempting to dry up my ears using tubes in my eardrums, they had to go all out and remove my tonsils and adenoids. My hearing eventually returned to normal after it worked. My uneasiness, nevertheless, persisted. I even experienced sleeplessness for a while. I would monitor the clock while lying in bed. I became increasingly anxious the later it got. It kind of builds itself up. It was second grade. My mother fixed that by giving me a clock radio as a Christmas gift. For a few years, my mother would come over and turn it off every night as I slept.

My sleeplessness and hearing were eventually “cured,” but my stutter persisted. This was severe stuttering that was nearly impossible to understand. I began receiving assistance from a speech counselor in the tenth grade (thank you, thank you, thank you). My stuttering had stopped by the time I arrived at college. However, I believe I never mastered the “rules” of being friendly and missed out on learning how to interact. I lacked confidence in all social situations, particularly when it came to dating. Although I never experienced actual bullying as a child, I always sensed that others felt uneasy around me. Others became anxious and wanted me to simply spit out whatever I was saying. I therefore didn’t have many friends in high school. I think I was a bit of a recluse and, to some extent, shy, but I also didn’t make friends easily. The ‘good guy’ in the back of the room was me. I didn’t attend any proms in high school and never had a girlfriend.

Mom was one person who always understood me. When I was younger, we had a lot of heart-to-heart conversations. When I attempted to be funny, Dad would occasionally become a bit annoyed, but Mom always understood my sense of humor.

My dad passed away from a heart attack when I was in the eleventh grade. My sister was still in her final year of high school. We needed to sort of pull together. We weren’t very wealthy, but we were okay because my mom had everything she needed, and my dad works as a teacher. We also had life insurance. As they say, life happens. We were always a tight family, and it seemed like we became closer for a few years before going off to college.

And there were roughly 60% more women than guys at my college. Even though I could date a few women with such odds, I never found “the one.” I was around 6′ and 165 pounds when I graduated from high school. I gained three additional inches in college for whatever reason. I ended up becoming a 6’3″, blond, blue-eyed, in-shape, 200-pound college graduate who lacked social skills and self-confidence.

Alright, so I graduate, find a job (someday) in programming, move into an apartment with a roommate, and move on. Life is good, then. Bring on the ladies. All right, whenever you want. I’m here. Hi there. Not taking place. I tried.

The night Ketty met Leo at the Holiday Inn bar, I was with her. She ‘had to’ be married, but they were wedded nine months later because they clicked so well. Three years later, with two children already, they appear content. It’s funny because neither of them has likely returned to a dance bar since. One of those things, they simply got lucky.

Alright, the issue as I perceive it. The whole social thing was something I never learned. It was never going to work to approach a woman in a pub. dating website. Despite being 6′ 3″ and blond, I don’t seem to be model material. There weren’t many hits for me. Out-of-school women appear to be on the rise. Instead of a snotty adolescent with school loans, girls my age are searching for a thirtysomething with a great car and a summer home. I did manage to date a few different women, most of them were in their 30s and had children. They were probably desperate. I worked with a few ladies, but none of them were interested in dating me.

Let’s go back to Thursday night, my weekend. I’m 24 years old and still haven’t found a partner. That weekend, my roommate and a few of his high school pals were heading to a music festival. I was alone because the music wasn’t my taste. I disliked being “alone,” even though I consider myself to be a semi-loner. It was time to give Mom a call to check on her availability. Mom was there virtually all the time. I know what’s going to happen; the worst part of the call is always the beginning.

“Hello, Mom. To find out what’s going on this weekend, I just thought I’d contact you.”

“I’ll venture a guess. Nothing is happening, and you need to do some laundry and cooking at home. How will you ever find a woman who comes home so frequently, honey? You must be fighting out there.

“As you are aware, Mom, I never change my clothing; instead, I wear them until they are worn out and then discard them. That way, no laundry. However, cooking at home does sound delicious. The ‘good fight’ is also exhausting me.

“All OK, go home. As usual, nothing is happening for me either. Bring your laundry as well.

For Mom and me, the final bit was somewhat of an inside joke. During breaks while I was in college, I would do my laundry as the final step before leaving for home. I never brought any to her because it’s something I can do and there’s no need to force it on her. After all, I am, in theory, an adult. On the way, I’ll stop and buy some wine and beer. The drive home takes roughly two hours.

“All right, I’ll pack tonight and head out tomorrow. Around 7:30 is when you should be home.

“OK honey, see you tomorrow.”