(To all of those out there reading this: One, Sally feel free to read this one. I don’t think there is too much in it that will upset you. Two, my editor took a few liberties in the editing process and I only recently discovered them. I left them for posterity sake though)
Many people have found that one of the negatives of growing up is you tend to grow apart from the friends you made as a child. It makes sense if you think about it; people change, move, get married, have kids, grow up, grow old, grow apart, get sick, and die. It is one of the negatives of aging. As a child the world is an endless array of possibilities. The person you ride bikes with down to the 7-11 to grab Slurpees, even though your parents told you not to go there without them, will one day have his or her own life across the country only to be heard from occasionally on social media. (Only a short 10 years ago or so, even this wasn’t possible, and the only way to know where someone ended up was through rumors and local lore with tales starting with, “Did you hear where Kat went?”). Fortunately for me, even with all of the crusades I ventured on, the many times I decided it was time to pack my bags and head to a different part of this globe, I am lucky enough to have one friend (this is not a retelling of the story of my best friend, so please continue before growing bored and assuming I have run out of wonderful tales to tell) who, through all of the hurdles Life put in our way, has remained one of the lynchpins of my existence.
(Sally: Do not! Do not! Do not! You don’t want this in your head. I 100% promise you that. Do not open this link.)
(Everyone else: If you know me, this may change the way you see me and not in the same way as other stories may have changed the way you see me. This story is really dark. Be warned before proceeding.)
Right now, Jupiter can be viewed from earth by the naked eye. That doesn’t have a lot to do with the story I’m about to tell, but does have a lot to say about the importance of timing in our lives.
Timing is uncontrollable, and undeniable. There is this girl I had a crush on a while back, but I didn’t have her number so I couldn’t get in contact with her. One day I went to the gym (because even perfection needs maintenance) and realized once I got there I had left all of my swimming gear at home. I drove back to the house, grabbed my gear, and got back to the gym as quickly as I could. As I was walking through the lobby of the gym, the girl I had a crush on happened to be walking through at the exact same time. We talked for a few minutes, and I almost asked her out, but I am a huge sissy when it comes to asking out girls that I actually like, so I didn’t (I know, the ending is very anticlimactic, but it goes along with the theme). If I hadn’t forgotten my gym stuff, I would have already been in the pool swimming with absolutely no chance of running into her, the opportunity to ask her out would not have presented itself, and I would be able to live with the delusions I would ask her out if ever I randomly bumped into her out in public. Now, I can’t.
Writer’s note: Some people doubt the validity of this story, but trust me, everything I talk about here honestly and truly happened.
Like many other people in this world, as I approached my thirtieth birthday, I slowly began to realize my life wasn’t anywhere close to where I wanted it to be. I was Matt Wright. I was not supposed to be in the situation I was in. I was supposed to be a well-known writer, as well as an exceptionally popular socialite who people enjoyed having at parties. I was not supposed to be a failing real estate agent who was slowly losing his house and struggling with the fact that, not only was he single but, the last girl he thought he was dating had been with someone else the entire time. (Thank you, Julie.) I was supposed to be a member of the elite. I was supposed to be better than everyone else because, let’s face it, I am better than everyone else. Struggling with all of these different aspects of my life, I also started thinking about leaving the DC area because I was tired of dealing with its fake, plastic, hypocritical demeanor. Nevertheless, I was still there and about to celebrate my thirtieth birthday.
(*Sally, this story is ok for you to read. I’m running out of ones that will embarrass you for raising me*)
As I dropped my friend off at the airport this afternoon so he would be able to spend the holiday season with his family, leaving me here in Nashville all by my lonesome (seriously, what am I supposed to do now, Nate?), I was reminded of a story I promised someone I would write and never got around to it. So, since Nate wants me to write a story about one of our experiences and he just left for the holidays and I don’t have anyone to hang out with tonight I am going to tell the story about a girl I basically don’t remember at all (no, this isn’t like the girl whose name I don’t remember. This one’s different. I know her name.). Continue reading Best Flight Ever