Stop - Part 3

Like the weather, this guys "smooth" moves were horrendous.
The boys had asked us about what bus route we were going to take to get home. Kindly, my friend and I explained that we live in Kits and Coal Harbour respectively and that we could thus take the same bus  as we do everyday. Now, knowing that these boys live in Shaughnessy, and that they'd need to take the bus route in the opposite direction, we pretended to be dumb and asked them about their route. They told us that they indeed do live in Shaughnessy, but that they could take any bus route they wanted. I told them that their bus stopped right in front of the school and that they could get on there. However, due to the fact that a sex-deprived lunatic was running around campus, grabbing women's bottoms, the boys decided to walk us to the bus loop.

That was very nice, but I mean really very unnecessary. Actually, it only seemed unnecessary to me. To this boy, walking the love of his life to the bus loop was quite necessary. In fact, despite the almost impossible chance of my friend and I getting sexually assaulted whilst walking to the bus loop, I'd venture to say that he had a feeling of heroism while walking us to the bus loop, as if he had just saved our lives from the maniac on campus. Anyways, instead of making the long walk in the crappy weather, we caught a bus for a few stops to the bus loop. In that time, my old partner was incredibly silent, with his black, puffy hood covering most of his forehead. The other boy however, seized the opportunity to talk to my friend. At least, he tried. My friend wasn't really talking much, and I, being her best friend, felt almost obligated to save her from the clutches of this boy. So, when this boy brought up the topic of modelling, and questioning my friend about her modelling, I jumped in.

Considering the fact that I have a vast knowledge of modelling, (and I say this with no irony. I know that it's become difficult to differentiate my sarcasm from my truths, but actually, I have a small, possibly partially lesbian obsession with models.) I used it to my advantage. I started asking him about the most famous model in his country (native country). He knew her, but not very well; what a shame. I then went on to list -out of route memory- her measurements and a cover shoot which she was in, where she looked particularly beautiful. He was in awe, almost as much as my model friend was. I turned, first to my friend and said "I told you I know a lot about models." Then, I turned to the boy, who I knew had heard this statement, and said: "Seriously, ask me about anyone of the Victoria's Secret Angels, and I'll give you everything from her birthday to her measurements." I think that he responded either with a smirk and the implicit question of: "Isn't that a little lesbian?" or with a cool statement of "Impressive!"Regardless, I didn't care. My knowledge of everything modally had come in handy because by the time I was done raving about Adriana Lima, Alessandra Ambrosio, Cameron Russell, Emily DiDonato, Laetitia Casta and Bar Rafaeli, our bus had arrived at the bus loop.

At this point, we all got off. My friend and I pointed the two boys to their bus, which was about to leave, and occupied our stop in the line for the Downtown bus. They obediently headed off to their bus, which was surprising, as I had thought that they would actually request to head all the way home with us. They didn't make up some lame excuse about "taking precautionary measures against all those rapists out there"and thus needing to take us to the front doors of our buildings. They just walked away.

When their bus drove away, my friend and I commenced gossiping about the boy. We talked about how creepy he was, how desperate he must be etc.. Neither of us liked the fact that he had talked about another boy behind his back. There was obviously a feud going on between the boy that was hitting on my friend and the boy he was gossiping about, because the boy had painted the other in such a bad light. Why? Well probably because they were both after the same girl at their school. Anyways, all the criticism directed towards the other boy was totally unwarranted, as that boy is great. He is quite hilarious and despite the fact that he too hits on 27397549 girls at a time, he is still fun. See, both of these boys had hit on me at one point, one at a debate tournament and the other at a debate practice, and I can now say that the boy who had his arm around me at the awards ceremony of a debate tournament is much funnier and chill, in a weird, poser-ish way.

Anyways, I disclosed to my friend that I thought that the guy was hitting on her throughout the whole day, and that tomorrow she'd see him in front of her building with flowers. She laughed and said that she noticed, but that she thought that he was hitting on me at first.
"Yeah, you're right. But then you walked into the room and lit it up, he fell for you and now you will be carrying his babies. That's why he put so much emphasis on telling you that he is partly of your ethnic background. That way, your babies won't be halfies, they'll be almost fully your background." I poetically described with an immense amount of voice fluctuation for dramatic effect.
My friend had a sort of shocked face, but she was laughing so hard that her face just looked deformed, it was pretty funny.

When the bus started moving, we kept talking about him, and listing observations. Actually, it was mostly me making fun of him and making my friend laugh. I really like making her laugh, her facial expressions are so mutated that it makes me laugh. Also, considering that my sense of humour is demented, not many people can understand it, and think that I mean certain things with malice, whereas my friend, well, she really gets it. So we basically spent that whole bus ride in mutual laughter, her at my jokes and me at her face. I walked her home and then sat myself on the next bus, but not before I told her to give me a call if a creepy figure appears in her garden's bushes. (I said this as a joke, the guy is not crazy enough to stalk her, okay? He's a regular teenage boy, like all of them, he wants to sleep with girls, particularly hot ones, and I need to make fun of him because he hit on my best friend and she didn't like him. As well as because I just need to make fun of people.)

It seemed like that would be the end of that. I had protected my best friend from the creepy dude who wanted to date her purely for sexual reasons, and for his ego. He wanted to date her for the ability to tell his friends that he is dating a model, and that was pathetic, but normal. Regardless, I thought that that was the end of this issue and that in a few days, we'd forget that this ever even happened. Sadly, this boy did not let us forget it, neither did my old partner, and what happened in the days following the encounter was truly -for lack of a better word- hilarious. 

Stop - Part 2

Once upon a time, my partner and I had the debate-fanatic idea to come to each other's schools for extra debate practice. So my partner came, but he had brought a friend - this boy. My best friend hadn't stayed at the practice that day, but she was waiting for me downstairs, and was going to come and pick me up at 5. Throughout the whole practice, I felt like the boy was hitting on me. I guess that he's pretty desperate. 

Anyway, my sweet friend arrived, as obedient as ever, at 5 to pick me up. We hugged at the door and I told her that I'd like to introduce her to someone - my debate partner was who I was referring to. She said sure and walked in. All the other members of the debate club had already left and it was just me, the boy, my partner and my best friend. I introduced my friend, and started to make small talk. Somehow, the topic of my best friend being a model came up. All of a sudden, the boy's attention shifted from me to my best friend. Makes sense, right? After all, she is the model.

I excused myself to go and make drinks, or rather, hot-waterize drinks for everyone. (I know where the teacher, who sponsors the club, keeps his stash of drinks, which are made for retarded people and only require adding hot water.) I asked what everyone wanted, a choice of tea, hot chocolate, or milk tea. Two teas, a hot chocolate and milk tea for myself. So I went out the door, and turned on the electric kettle. I still had a clear view of everyone, though - one of the perks of the fully made of glass school I attend. They continued chatting.

The light on the kettle changed, signifying that the water was boiled. I poured the water into the two styrofoam cups, each with a teabag in it. Then, I added 4 spoons of powdered hot chocolate and covered with water and stirred. Lastly, I took the milk tea pouch and emptied it's contents into my cup and covered with water and stirred. I brought in the two teas and handed them over to the two boys. Then I went back and got my drink and my friend's drink. When I came back, we were all together again.

So I was back together with the group. Everyone thanked me for my making of the drinks and restarted their conversation. My debate partner said little, as he usually does when he is meeting someone new. Anyways, lover-boy started to ask about my friend's athletic interests. He found out that she liked running.

"So how much do you usually run?" Questioned lover-boy.
"Umm… Usually 3 kilometres. What about you?" My friend replied in a shy voice, as she tried to continue the conversation, which she shouldn't have.
"Oh you know, usually 10 kilometres. I really like the long distances." He braggingly answered; as if his running of 10km a day was no big deal.

Oh this guy; he was trying so hard that it was funny. Knowing that my friend was basically incapable of telling the guy that she doesn't want to talk to him, I tried to save her. I would interrupt and ask the guy some questions or at least bring him into some other conversation, which I would start with my debate partner. I was waiting for everyone to finish their drinks, so that we could go our separate ways. Quickly enough, the time came and I saw that everyone had finished their drink.

"Uhh guys, I gotta go pick up my little sister at swimming, so I have to leave. My friend and I go home together, so I guess you guys should get packing so that we can lock the door of my teacher's room." I said to the boys, while motioning to friend to come with me and get her jacket.

Everyone obediently got their coats, my partner collected the garbage from our drinks and swept the room a little with a broom from the janitor's cart. After about 5 minutes, we headed down my school's enormous hallway down to my locker. Once there, I got my necessary textbooks, packed my bag and threw on my hood. I had seen the disgusting rain outside and knew that I needed to cover my lovely hair somehow. Eventually, after preparing my soul to go outside for the millionth time this month in the pouring rain, we headed to the door.

Stop - Part 1

I'm going to be honest: I started this post with the intention of making it short and sweet, but then I realized there was no way that that would happen. I'm going to publish this story in parts (hopefully only a few) so that no one is going to have to read more than a 1000 words at once. I hope you guys enjoy this series of posts!

Some people just don't know when to stop. That is the issue that I will be discussing today, as it has been pertaining indirectly to me these pass couple of weeks. It has to do with my best friend, and a guy that is madly in love (oops, I mean in like) with her. This boy, apparently, does not take hints. He is obsessed, and thus, he let's every small word act as a enormous, grossly-exaggerated glimmer of hope. He is blinded by his infatuation. He is oblivious to the signals that the people around him are giving. He is, or is being, stupid. Most importantly, he needs to stop. 

Before I get into the whole scenario, allow me to give some background: 

My best friend is an exchange student. She moved here from a cold, dark and desolate place in Eastern Europe 1.5 years ago. Her parents encouraged her to come here in order to improve her English, despite it already being very good. I guess her and her parents picked Vancouver because of the climate, because you'd be really dumb to pick it because of anything else. (A lot of aspects of Vancouver suck, but it's a nice place landscape-wise. It's really rare that you get to have the mountains and the beach on your doorstep.) Anyways, she came here in grade 9 and is going to stay here until the end of high school. She's really nice and funny, and she's a great friend who really cares, not to mention the fact that she is tall, skinny and pretty. 

***I guess that she's from Tennessee, because she's the only ten I see! 

Anyway, I didn't really know her in grade nine, but this year we have grown pretty close and now spend every lunch together eating ice cream, and thinking about what homework we have forgotten to complete. Luckily, we have a lot of classes together and we get to talk a lot. We also both live far away from our school, so we get to take the bus together after school. When I have extracurricular activities after school, even really long debate practices, she usually waits for me at my locker just so that we can take the bus together. Despite her hatred for debate, she still comes to some of my practices just to watch me, and encourage me. She sounds perfect, right? Well she is! So I understand that the boys are flocking to her. 

Now for some background on the boy that likes her (probably only sexually). He is from Vancouver, and he is a year older than my friend and I. He is from my old school, which I went to for one year in grade 8. Strangely enough, I never actually met the boy before this year. Apparently, he went to his parent's native country for that one year, so I could never meet him. The boy isn't gorgeous. He is fit, though. He is a debater, too. And he is friend's with my insecure debate partner, who I have discussed in previous posts. Honestly, I don't want to say too much about the boy, since I don't know him that well.

So how did my friend, who has zero interest for debate, meet this guy? They go to different schools, and they don't really have many mutual interests. It's me and my insecure partner's fault.