GOODNIGHT

There it was, the Comfort Inn Hotel, a rather unspectacular and somewhat ordinary looking, brownish, three story brick building just east of the 355 north-south tollway.

 The closer I got to the forbidding and castrating hotel, at least it sure felt that way the nearer I got to it as I seriously thought about turning around and heading back home, the more nauseous, nervous, and weak-kneed I became.

Every gut wrenching inch I drew closer to the virgin intimidating hotel, my hands began to grow colder and sweatier by the millimeter while a panic induced fear raced up and down my entire frenetic body as I frantically pondered worst case scenarios.

 Everything seemed to be falling apart as I pulled into the hotel parking lot a complete and utter mess.

Terrified and afraid, I sat slumped in my car seat, like the cowering wimp I’d always been, and began checking for things like bad breath, boogers, unzipped pants, zits, bad odor, smelly feet, and other potential embarrassing downfalls before I was finally jolted awake by a thundering bolt of testosterone, thus allowing me to take some decisive and manly action for one of the few and rare times in my woefully tepid life.

Maybe the time had finally come for me to turn into a man and tonight was the night I’d say goodbye to the boy in me and hello to the man, or so I hoped.

If tonight, indeed, was the night of nights I was destined to become a man, it certainly didn’t appear that way as I spent the entire time walking from my sloppily parked car to Diana’s hotel room wiping my sweaty hands up and down the front of my beige colored pants in a whirlwind of colossal nervousness.

I dreaded the thought of Diana greeting me with a princess-Diana-like handshake then screaming in unimaginable horror when she felt the cold, sticky wet dampness of my sweaty right hand.

I also managed to forget, though not surprisingly, Diana’s room number by the time I stumbled into the hotel lobby like a drunken sailor out of a dockside saloon.

It took about a good fifteen minutes of nervous and tension filled praying and cursing, while pacing back and forth like a rabid hamster, before I was finally able to settle myself down and narrow her possible room numbers down to three.

Then with all the stealth and creepiness of a future stalker in the making, I went up to each of the three, second floor hotel rooms I suspected she might’ve been inside and listened for her one of a kind voice only to be disappointed by what I didn’t hear, though one of them did have some non-discernable noise coming from the other side of it.

So after wiping my waterlogged hands against my slightly soiled pants one last time, I timidly went ahead and knocked on the door I hoped and prayed she was behind.

To say all of the unwarranted but understandable nervousness I felt nearly paralyzed me when Diana opened the door would be an understatement, as it was also a fairly accurate description of me as I stood fluttering in fear in front of her doorway.

Especially when the warmness of her smile melted upon me as she graced the inside of her hotel room looking absolutely stunning.

But then wouldn’t you know it, just as soon as I stepped foot inside her dimly lit hotel room, with about as much poise and grace as a drunk on stilts I fear, I noticed a dark haired, chubby looking woman sitting casually on the bed closest to the door.

It was her friend Randy, who I had hoped wouldn’t be invited.

“I didn’t think you were going to come,” Diana immediately said to me upon closing her hotel room door.

“What took you so long, did you get lost or ride your bike?” she asked me in a tone of voice I had never heard from her before.

“No, I stopped at a friend’s house after work,” I  hesitantly replied, as I tried to remain as cool and aloof as possible.

“Did you have to work late?” she then questioned me.

“No ... Why?”

“You’re still wearing your work clothes.”

“I haven’t been home yet,” I said, while still lingering over her question about riding a bicycle over.

Why in the world would she ask me that I wondered?

 Did she view me as wimpy and un-masculine?

After exchanging hellos and some standard, boring pleasantries with Randy, ( As she sat on the edge of her bed listening to and watching Diana and I ), I clumsily hustled my towards the only chair in the room and pounced on it as if I were involved in a life or death game of musical chairs.

I had no idea what, if anything, I was doing or even attempting to do as I nervously sat hunched in her chair like a frightened five year old kid in a dental office, nor did I know what was going to happen between the three of us and for about the next half hour or so, Diana, Randy, and I just sat around and talked though most of the time I just sat in my chair and listened.

What I didn’t know beforehand, was Diana shared her hotel room with Randy as everyone from the restaurant’s training crew had to room with a coworker.

As much as I enjoyed talking to Randy earlier in the week, I didn’t feel comfortable talking to Diana with her in the room.

All I wanted was to be alone with Diana and for Randy to get up and leave.

“Do you party?” Diana unexplainably asked me out of nowhere while I secretly wished for her friend Randy to disappear.

 “Why?” I asked while trying to look as manly and cool as possible.

“No reason, I was just wondering,” she said while slightly shrugging her shoulders.

I wonder why she asked me that I contemplated.

Was I being a party pooper?

 Maybe I should’ve tried looking more relaxed and initiated more of the conversation between the two of us or maybe I should’ve smiled and laughed a little more often.

Whatever the reason had been, it left with me with little choice but to unveil my secret weapon as I slowly nudged my shirt sleeve up my arm (With the slight of my right hand) so Diana could bask and revel in the wonder and glory of my bulging left bicep, or at least that’s how I imagined it looking.

I didn’t want to do this, not on the first night anyways, but I had to show Diana what she’d be missing out on if she decided not to see me anymore.

I just hoped she’d hurry hope and notice because my left arm was starting to hurt from flexing.

How could she not notice I wondered.

After a month or so of hard construction labor and lots of summer sun, my “guns” were looking as good as they ever had.

But apparently my left bicep wasn’t as mesmerizing as I thought as Diana never even gave it a quick glance, though in my defense the room’s visibility was rather dim at best ... or so I like to tell myself.

I tried to act as calm and cool as possible throughout the night, sort of like John Travolta did in the movie Grease, while sitting in my chair pretending this type of get together was no big deal because of all the women I’d obviously been with.

But just when I felt like things were about to turn for the better and something good was about to happen, someone started pounding on their hotel room door.

“I knew it!” I screamed inside me while throwing a temper tantrum of epic proportions inside my head.

“Now the room was going to be filled with a bunch of horny coworkers muscling their way in on my woman.”
 

“What the heck?” I griped to myself, knowing full well what was going to happen as I sat slouched in my chair dreading the onslaught of testosterone about to stampede into the room.

Surprisingly, though certainly not unwelcome, two very attractive blonde haired women came strolling through the door.

Apparently, they were friends of Diana and Randy from what I could tell as I slyly tried to eavesdrop on their conversation.

However, the only thing I could think of as they entered the room and started to mingle, was the chaos they must have all caused whenever they went out together.

They were by far the prettiest collection of women I ever had the privilege of being with in one room with Diana of course, being the center piece and crown jewel of the bunch.

After the two bubbly and very talkative blonde haired women politely acknowledged and greeted me, as I sat in my chair like the bumbling idiot I was trying to stick out my chest in the hope it would make me look more muscular, they began gossiping about stuff I couldn’t have cared less about.

All I heard or shall I say saw, was one of the blonde’s breasts bouncing up and down every time she got overly excited as she talked and after what seemed like an eternity but was probably closer to thirty minutes, they quit their coma inducing chit chat and left.

Maybe now I’d finally get the chance to talk to Diana alone if only Randy would cooperate by falling asleep or perhaps, however unlikely, leaving.

The more I tried to assure myself it was only a short matter of time before Randy would fall asleep or leave, the more impatient and frustrated I became since it was already close to midnight and the mood of the room had changed dramatically.

The nervous, electric energy that seemed to be bouncing off the walls just an hour or two earlier had all but disappeared.

With the lights off, the television on, and no one talking, I continually kept peeking out of the left corner of my eye to see if Randy was dozing off but with no such luck.

I knew it was getting late and almost time for me to leave, especially since everyone had to work the next day, and just as I was about to get up from my chair, Randy looked at me somewhat sympathetically and said,

“She’s asleep ... she’s been working really hard.”

You’ve got to be kidding me I thought, she fell asleep!

What did I do wrong?

Was I that boring?

Why this night of all nights?

Though in the grand scheme of things, I guess it didn’t really matter what her reason had been for falling asleep, it sure as heck wasn’t a good way to end the night considering the delicate state of my overall psyche.

But even amidst the chaos, uncertainty, and disappointment of the night and as much as I wanted to be angry at Diana, I couldn’t help but tiptoe over to her bed and quietly pull her half drawn covers up to the top of her beautiful and lightly thumping chest.

She looked so angelic and peaceful as she slept I knew at that very moment the luckiest guy in the world would be the one who got to wake up to Diana each and every morning.

As much as I wished and hoped it was me, I knew it would never be.

She was so completely and astronomically out of my league I didn’t even consider the trillion to one possibility she might have actually liked me for me despite my many flaws and annoyances.

Maybe if I were to become a millionaire she’d consider dating me I fathomed.

But then again who was I trying to kid, how could someone like her fall for someone like me?

I loved her but … well look at me I thought.

How could someone as beautiful and lovely as her ever love someone as ugly as me?

Unlike the beast in the movie, The Beauty and the Beast, I wouldn’t be turning into a handsome prince with a castle and servants.

( If only ... )


My future seemed more likely to unfold inside the weeping walls of a homeless shelter or if I was real lucky, perhaps a cardboard version of a mobile home at best.

So after saying goodbye to Randy and insisting Diana’s napping was nothing to apologize for, I opened their hotel room door and headed on back to the loneliness of my grandmother’s unsympathetic living room floor.

As I drearily and almost tearfully drove my way home that night, my entire body felt like it was crumbling into a tiny billion pieces.

I had seen something so unbelievably and breathtakingly beautiful I couldn’t imagine living my life without it.

My head kept telling me to be sensible and logical, but my heart wanted nothing of the sort nor would it bother to listen.

All I wanted was to be with Diana, to know her, to touch her, to hold her, and to love her, but how?

I certainly couldn’t make her love me ... could I?

So with that very thought and question echoing throughout the empty hallways of my trailer park of a brain, I stayed awake for the remainder of the night staring at the blankness of my grandmother’s living room ceiling wondering what my ill-fated love had in store for me the days and weeks ahead.

There was something so special and un-describable about Diana’s beauty, it seemed to serve as a forewarning to me.

If only I would’ve known just how right my instincts were that fateful, August summer night ... if only I would’ve known.

( To wish impossible things?  I certainly did )