hashtag, things that would only happen to you.

speaking of daddy issues, I unabashedly omitted information from my dad, concerning the details of my graduation from nursing school. I was simultaneously applying mascara in the mirror, prepping for my night out. I escaped without permanent blindness or a flat-out lie. I told him it was some Thursday in May [true]. He seemed to sense that this was not the whole story, so I conceded that I wasn't sure of the times and stuff because the administration at my school is guiltier of procrastination than I am [also a true statement]. This conversation rattled me, so what do I do? Call my straight, platonic man-friend (SPMF). Super healthy!

I laid out the dilemma: I am graduating - a big life event! My father should be present if he so wishes. But, he has no money for transportation or a place to say. I do not have the funds to front him. In addition, there is the distinct possibility that he will have a "bad Parkinsonian day" once he gets here and be unable to attend anyhow. Some days, the meds are not enough; and he experiences "freezing" and anxiety. Some days, it's too much; and he experiences exaggerated or squirming movements called dyskinesia. Also, there's a small part of me that just doesn't want to deal with the drama.

SPMF laughed and said, "well, then. I think you have your answer. I think you just need someone to say, 'you are making the right decision. you are not a bad person for thinking the way you do.' Allow me to be that person... Also, I can't make it tonight. I'm not feeling well. I think I'm just gonna stay in and be sick."

In the midst of my dilemma and his supportiveness, I forgot all about asking him out. (how could I? I even okay'd the move with my Man-conscience!) I wished him well in his recovery and promised to make time to see him soon, when he is well. I made my way to TD Bank to withdraw some cash. Then I visited work to get a good cup of coffee in me before an evening of dancing. I had already flirted with the idea of a nap but lacked the time. Coffee was a must.

Even though I work there, the menu still gives me order anxiety. Plus, it doesn't help that my coworkers are lovable nuts. We distract/tease/insult one another constantly. In my indecision, I failed to notice SPMF enter the line until he poked my shoulder. I... what? I greeted him amiably; we talked a bit in line. I ordered a sadness pastry and a cup of coffee. He bought his typical biker mag and a large tea because he had "this terrible sinus thing." During this time, Man-conscience spotted me from his department and sent me a series of text messages.
"Oh.My.GOD."
"And you come HERE? Awesome."

totally unaware of the fact that Man-conscience was even working, I paid for and received my coffee. I turned eight shades of red, I'm sure. I told the staff I would return for my pastry and power-walked to his department. Moments before I was about to accost him, a customer swept between our locked gaze and asked for assistance. I turned on my heel and fled the department, to the tune of the buzzer going off for my baked good. I returned to line to retrieve it and explain a bit of the situation to Bestie and the other staff on the clock.

"Oh, no. Caitlyn! I thought you two were meeting here and then going together!"
"No, this is me being stood up and then accidentally catching my stander-up in a lie in public!"

I excused myself to go explain to Man-conscience. I thanked everyone and headed to the back of the store. SPMF and Man-conscience were talking! Grumbling to myself, I pretended to be interested in a display table, keeping most of my focus on the back of the store. I grew more and more irritated by the time lapse, but hey. SPMF hadn't visited in months -- of COURSE they had a lot to say to one another. And before I knew it, I was sucked into a vortex of conversation with a very loud coworker. SPMF approached us and squeezed into the conversation with the coworker's totally subtle comment, "You're cute. Who are you?"

Lord, may you strike me down dead. Right here. Please. The coworker was caught in the act of avoiding her allotted department and excused herself. SPMF and I were free to discuss school, graduation, his job, and other stuff we hadn't shared in a while. My coworker escaped the section and sneaked back to our conversation and essentially forced out SPMF out. once he was barely out of earshot, she suggests, "he's cute. Ask him out."
"I did. This is actually me being stood up."

She laughed heartily, taking an uncomfortably long period of time to realize that I was not kidding. She sobered up fast, and said, "Well, geez, Caitlyn. I just don't get it. You're pretty. What's wrong with you?"
"Hah, thanks. If I knew the answer to that question, I wouldn't have these problems."

I eventually explained my plight to Man-conscience [who provided the comment that would later become the title to this blog entry] and had a fabulous night out of dancing. but for now, I give up.