The Ten Year Fail
by Eric Prae
Eric Prae: I got this message over Facebook from a reader:
Random Friend: Eric, stop doing so much stand-up and write something, dumb***!
Point taken, thanks.
The Ten Year Fail!
My buddy Bryan has been my best friend ever since I can remember. We grew up together; graduated high school together, shared a house in college, and continue to see each other through an adulthood where both of us have moved around the country. Doing stupid and immature things with your best friend from childhood is an important activity to remind you that even though you are an adult with responsibilities, you’re still alive.
The day Bryan and I graduated high school we made a joke/bet on which one of us was going to be the guy that brought the escort to our ten year reunion. Which one of us would be the hapless, broke, single person who couldn’t find someone with two breasts and a pulse to go out with him long enough to invite to one important night?
This joke was funny as we drank our way through college, played varsity college athletics and didn’t know how to spell commitment. It was funnier when we both moved across the country and started over because there were at least one (or a hundred) women in the last city that we had lived in who wanted to shank us. And the joke was still funny last year when we met up in NY to drink and laugh at our potential dateless loserdom.
But today that joke is no longer funny.
Why? Because our ten year high school reunion is only 7 days away, and it looks like the joke is on me….
***
Most women I date think I am a legit crazy person. I wonder if they’re not wrong. When I first moved to Tampa I had a small apartment that I found right in the heart of South Tampa. To rephrase that for people who don’t live here: I found a small apartment right within walking distance to every bar you would want to go to. I basically renamed South Tampa: “Drunken-Humpville”!
My place was simple…Because, there was nothing in it. Seriously, nothing. And I didn’t give a crap. I had a bed, a closet (separated into “workout”, “business” and “fun” clothes), and a small kitchen with no appliances. It was hippy paradise. I even rode a really cool bike everywhere! No, not a motorcycle, a Trek bicycle! Why? Because I don’t have the money to get myself out of a DUI.
My days consisted of getting up, riding my bike 6 miles to the gym under my office building, working out, showering/changing for work, working, then going out and trying to take over this new city bar by bar. I was like Napoleon, but taller, ginger and not French.
Fast-forward a few years… I am still in Tampa, but living in a much nicer place with my BFF Jenn. I am still the same hippy faking adulthood, but then something changed. I met someone I thought was really special.
I met a slamming hot, blonde, Florida girl. If you have ever been to Florida you know the type. A girl that is so hot but doesn’t know she is hot, because every girl here is slammin’ hot. If this girl had grown up north of Carolina, then she probably would have been a pretentious c-word because she would have always been the hottest chick in the bar. But not her. Not here. She was wonderful.
The coolest part about her? She also wears hearing aids! How awesome is that?
Meeting another hearing impaired person that you are sexually attracted to is like one in a million, right? To normal people we must have looked like two puppies that hang around with people all day, and then get really excited when they see their own kind. We would sniff each other, run around in circles and then tug hard on the leash because we didn’t want the party to end. Seriously, this was our first ever conversation:
Eric Prae: Hi! You wear hearing aids! What kind?
Hot Chick: What? No one has ever asked me that before.
Eric Prae: I’m weird.
If that’s not true romance, what is?
She even loved my website. Her only request was that I NEVER write about her. Oops.
We dated for a while, things were great. Everyone who had an opinion that I cared about really liked her. Then I did something really stupid. I asked her if she wanted to go to my ten year high school reunion. Probably WAY too soon right? But screw it; you have to buy plane tickets in advance, and my quest to not have to sit alone my high school reunion with a bunch of boring married people was almost complete!
So, I bought the tickets: Two round trip tickets to my hometown. Thumbs up, let’s do this!
For one day of my life, one glorious f-ing day, I was actually in a relationship with someone I truly cared about, and had plans to share this with people who I really don’t care about. For some reason, this was bliss.
Off to the reunion, happily ever after. The End!!!!
Just kidding. This wouldn’t be my life of hilarity and failure if everything didn’t go to shit right?
A few months after I bought the plane tickets, I noticed that the drawer in my dresser I gave her was magically empty. The overnight bag she kept in my closet was missing. All that was left was for her to call me and say something predictably stupid like “I think we need to talk”.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she just took her stuff home to wash it and maybe the bag was gone because….
***ring, ring, ring***
Shit.
Eric Prae: Hey! How are you? Do you want to go to…
Hot Chick: We need to talk; can you meet me at the Starbucks by my house?
Double Shit.
So I went. No plot twist here. She dumped me. We didn’t have chemistry, or it wasn’t me it was her, or we just don’t have anything in common or whatever she said, I really don’t care. It’s always the same. I even had to pay a toll to go to that Starbucks. I paid a toll to get dumped. She didn’t even buy me coffee. Fail.
***
It’s now one week until my ten year high school reunion and the joke is on me. While others are planning on showing off their hot dates, I get to do fun things like throw out pictures of me and my now ex girlfriend. Even Facebook does its part and puts in my notification status every time some douche ex-boyfriend of my now ex-girlfriend writes things on her wall like: “Sorry I called so late last night, can’t wait to see you Sunday!” Thanks Facebook!
This isn’t just an epic fail. It is a Ten Year Epic Fail. A whole decade of relationship failure, all bottled up into one not magical night.
At least Bryan isn’t bringing a date either.
So, if you live in Syracuse and you see two guys doing shots at Dinosaur BBQ next Friday night, laughing at each other and doing shots, come over and say hello.
Especially if you are a female. I could use a date.
P.S.- This is Jenn summing up this short story and my dating life:
Jenn B.: This story is wonderful...I actually almost teared up... You are a f******, complete mess- and you can publish that statement if you need to.
Short Story by Eric Prae
Thanks for reading! You can email Eric at:
istruggle@RidetheStruggleBus.com
Click Here to go back to the bio page/archives
Don't forget to comment at the end of the story!
HTML Comment Box is loading comments...