I’ve never been graceful. Never. I don’t think there has ever been a time where I could walk into a room and not do something stupid and absolutely embarrassing enough to make me want to hide under a rock for the rest of my existence. My first day of kindergarten I tripped and knocked all the paints down, ruining Natalie Millar’s pretty white dress her mother just bought her. Needless to say, Natalie Millar was never my friend. She held onto that grudge all through high school. I haven’t seen her in seven years, but I’m pretty sure if I were to see her again she’d still hate me.
It didn’t stop in kindergarten though, in kindergarten it’s kind of expected, adorable even, but not so much as you grow older than that. On my first day of high school my locker got stuck so I had to pull it open. To a normal person that would be the end of the story, but I’m far from normal. For me, Melanie Tripp, that was just the beginning. I pulled the locker so hard it flung open, hitting me in the face giving me a bloody nose and a chipped tooth. I spent the first month of high school with a swollen nose, not even to mention the trail of blood from my locker to the nurse’s office.
My last name is Tripp; I was cursed from the beginning. I learned early on that it’s better to just blend in as much as I can. I was never the popular girl, far from it in fact. People never knew I existed. I’m that girl during your high school graduation that everyone tries to figure out who I am or when I came to school when they call my name and I walk across the stage. Or in my case, trip and fall across the stage and into the pit with the band, or into the tuba as the case was. Yeah, I’m that girl.
I should be used to it by now, I should either have figured out a way to get around the whole universe hating me thing, or at least find a way to embrace it, but I hardly do. It’s not really my fault, its just life. I need to get over it. My life is not exactly something out of a storybook; more like something out of those weird novels that you feel so bad for the girl it makes you feel better about yourself. It’s kind of like Eminem, people listen to his music because it makes you realize that your life isn’t that shitty, it could be a hell of a lot worse.
Forget about Eminem, this is my life. This is the reason why I’m so weird and crazy and people don’t even notice me. I’m trying to go grocery shopping and I’m thinking about Eminem and how hard his life is. That’s bullshit; he’s doing just fine. I need to focus on the simple things in life, like walking without falling and knocking all the cans of corn down.
I’m twenty-five and have yet to be kissed, or even close to kissed. It’s not like I care about it that much, except I’m pretty sure my whole family thinks I’m a lesbian. I don’t know how the fact that I haven’t had a boyfriend makes me a lesbian; I haven’t had a girlfriend either. Not that I find anything wrong with it, but it’s just not for me. I’m all for the guys, I just haven’t found one that can look past the tripping and breaking my bones to actually be interested in me. Not even to mention how awkward I am around men in general.
There is a guy though that I’m pretty sure I’m in love with. Granted, I’ve never been in love, but this guy is like… he’s like the kind of guy I could fall in love with. I mean, I’m sure it would work out a lot better if I actually said a word to him. Or if he actually talked to me, besides the occasional “Hey, can I borrow a pen?” but I think we’re making steps. Baby steps. I definitely need to take baby steps.
His name is Justin Timberlake and he works in the same graphic design office I do. In fact, his desk is right next to mine, talk about luck. Except there’s the simple fact that he doesn’t even know I exist. Or even if he did he wouldn’t want anything to do with me. He’s way too hot for me, first of all. He has curly brown hair, cut into a faux hawk thing. Right, he’s cool too; I’m totally not cool. He wears jeans to work with button down shirts that are not tucked in and a thin tie. He’s very stylish and I’m not even close to being stylish.
Then there’s me. I have plain brown frizzy hair, plain brown eyes and small gaps in my teeth that I get food stuck in all the time. His teeth are perfect, for the record, and he has the most beautiful blue eyes. I wear long skirts or dress pants and blouses because I’m not exactly comfortable with my body. He’s definitely comfortable with his, and his girlfriends for that matter. Yeah, there’s that speed bump, that giggly blonde that comes in and meets him for lunch. She’s the kind of girl I wish I was. She wears sundresses and looks adorable. I wish I could hate her but she’s too perfect to hate. I haven’t seen her around in awhile though; I wouldn’t be surprised if they broke up. She used to come every single day for lunch but she hasn’t been around in almost a month. Once again, I need to take baby steps with that whole thing. I’m kind of like living in a dream world where he’s in love with me too, in my head that is.
Speaking of baby steps, I’m walking down the aisles too fast and I’m pretty sure I just walked past the frozen pizzas. I turned around, nearly knocking a carriage over; it’s not really a surprise, that’s what happens when I move. “Sorry,” I apologized softly before grabbing a couple of pepperoni pizzas and throwing them in my carriage.
I just hate social situations, which obviously doesn’t help with the whole dating thing. I get nervous, and awkward and obviously I trip or hurt someone by accident. I’ve decided it’s much easier to just stay out of those situations all together. My mother was really worried a few years ago and made me go see a therapist.
I thought therapists weren’t supposed to label their patients but Dr. Label McLabels off Newberry Street had no problem labeling me after the first session. She said I’m a psychopath, or that I have psychopathic tendencies. Yeah, what the fuck is that about? Like I’m supposed to just sit there and listen to that shit. Well, I did just sit there and listen to it because I’m too quiet to actually fight with someone I hardly know, but in my head… oh in my head, I was planning on going home and getting a voodoo doll for her.
Instead, I went home and googled what a psychopath is. OK, antisocial, I get that. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m antisocial, but seriously I don’t think anyone can blame me. Every time I try to do something even slightly social, like I don’t know, go to the grocery store, I somehow manage to make a complete fool out of myself. But a psychopath is like someone who goes crazy and is like perverted or aggressive. I’m so not either of those. Whatever, I’m pretty sure going to the therapist gave me more issues.
OK, I need to focus on the shopping while I’m here. I need cat food, and I want potato skins. I need to make it back home in time for the new 90210 show. I realize I’m probably too old to like it, but I loved the original and the new one is one of my guilty pleasures. Anyway, I’m already cutting it close since I stayed a little late to finish my project. I definitely wouldn’t have come here today but I’ve been putting it off and have just about no more food left. Plus, the pizza deliveryman is starting to think I’m crazy, which I guess I technically am, or a psychopath… whatever floats your boat.
All right, focus Melanie. Cat food is on the other end of the store. That means I need to turn quick and…
“Ow, fuck!” shit, I definitely just crammed my carriage into the back of someone’s heel. “Watch where you’re going, dammit, did you not see me here?”
The more he talked the more I recognized the voice. Oh shit, when he turned around I saw my thoughts were correct, Justin fucking Timberlake, the man I work with and am secretly in love with. “Sorry,” I answered softly feeling my face turn red.
“Yeah, you’re sorry.” He has every right to be pissed. I really hurt him. I can’t think of anything else to say so I’m just going to turn around and walk away quickly. OK, stop. There’s peanut butter here, I can’t go by it and then come back and look like a complete moron in front of him. Although, I’m pretty sure I already look like a complete moron. He doesn’t even know who I am, I’ve been working with him for a year and he doesn’t recognize me. I guess that’s a good thing, I don’t want him bringing this up at work tomorrow.
I grabbed a jar off the top shelf just to have two other jars fall from the shelf. I tried to catch them but lost my balance and instead I landed on the ground with each of the jars hitting me on the same place of my head one after the other. It wasn’t even my fault, somebody didn’t put those jars up the right way, and they were balancing on each other. I was set up for disaster.
I just really hope that Justin managed to wobble away before seeing me make that huge, embarrassing spill. Of course, my life doesn’t go that way. I heard his laugh, that unmistakable laugh, and opened my eyes to see him standing over me. “Are you alright? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. You just really… I’m sorry, are you all right? Can I help you up?”
“I’m fine.” I stood up before grabbing the jars of peanut butter that were now on the ground. Please go away. I reached up to put them back, but I swear the universe is against me and another few jars began to wobble.
“Shit,” he laughed, reaching up to steady the jars, “You should probably just back away. I’m sorry I’m laughing. It’s not funny. Are you sure you’re ok?”
“Yeah.”
“It just came, right down,” he stopped to laugh, “And the way you fell… I’m sorry, it’s not funny. But then you go to put them back and they start to fall again…” he won’t stop laughing. That is never a good sign. I finally get him to talk to me and he’s retelling me the horrible story that I not only witnessed but fucking lived through. “Hey wait, you work with me right? At Blue Luna?”
Oh great, just what I need. He actually recognizes me now, “Yeah, I think so.”
After one more quick laugh he walks back to his cart, “Alright, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. You might want to get some ice for that head. And careful with the top shelf next time, all right?” he asked with that sexy smile he has before walking off to the checkout lane.
My life is just… amazing.
