Through the gossip mill

I told myself that the last post I wrote about Statham was going to be the last post I wrote about Statham. I was done with the drama and I just wanted to feel normal again.

He showed up to my weekly night out this week. He never shows up that night. But I saw him and his baseball cap bob into the bar and my stomach dropped. I didn't want this boy who had been inside of me ignore me again so publicly. This was my one night out a week where I have fun; I didn't want my feelings to be hurt again.

He approached the group I was standing with. I grabbed my purse and ran into the bathroom to just collect myself and just breathe. This wasn't supposed to happen; he wasn't supposed to be there. A girlfriend saw me panic and followed me in the bathroom. The anxiety chest pains that I thought were just a part of life when I was with S had returned this week. I'd be sitting in the late afternoon writing at work and I'd have to stop and grab my heart. It hurt. And here I was in the bathroom clutching my chest again.

I quickly composed myself and returned to the group. Statham looked at me, "Why do girls go to the bathroom in pairs?" he asked jokingly.

"Duh! To make sure all clothes are tucked in/hanging out the way it's supposed to be, to make sure there isn't toilet paper streaming from your heel, to pass you toilet paper under the partition when your stall is out, and to stand in front of the door when the lock is broken."

"You know what would solve those first problems? A mirror."

"A girlfriend is better. A girlfriend will tell you that you're beautiful and the mirror rarely does that."

And that was that. I meandered over to Clemson, which ended up being a cluster in and of itself. He was in a mood. He he told me that he was really hungover and had a lot of work to do before the week was finished. Intellectually, I know I need to take whatever Clemson says at face value: he isn't one to lie or make up falsities for the sake of sparing feelings. But I was disappointed nonetheless. I thought I was going to get my flirt on and I didn't.

By that time I was being summoned from across the bar—the flip cup game was starting and people wanted me on their team. I was so relieved that someone wanted my attention and I didn't have to wade around in this awkwardness anymore. Statham moved on to his ex-girlfriend's table, where he remained for the rest of the night.

***

Yesterday at work, I got the same e-mail I received the previous week: Margaritas. After work. This time the e-mail made more sense: it was Cinco de Mayo and the country over would be drinking margaritas that night.

I typed back that I would be late. Schmoozer and I were scheduled for a run after work. I met him in front of the river.

"We'll run at your pace tonight. If I feel like I didn't get enough of a run in, I'll just continue on after you've finished," he told me.

I set my pacing watch and we took off. Because he wasn't working as hard as I was—his 5k time is about 12 minutes faster than mine—he was chatty. I tried to keep up the conversation in between breaths.

At the 1.75 mile marker, there are two options: you can either run straight and complete the 3.1-mile stretch, or you can circle around and add another 2 miles to the total run for a distance of 5.1 miles.

"What do you say? You want to turn left?" he asked.

"Okay, but if we do, I'm going to have to stop and walk at some point," I puffed.

"It's your pace."

We turned left. We lapped walkers that we had already passed. Schmoozer began a game of targeting people he knew we could pass and then beating them.

"Black, up ahead," he pointed. In front of us was a girl in black running. "She's going too quickly and she's going to run out of gas. Let's pass her." He pointed a finger gun at her and made laser blowing-up noises.

Sure enough, she tired out and we passed her.

"Blue, up ahead," he said as he found a new target.

At 3.5 miles, I had to stop and walk a quarter mile before finishing the 5-mile run. It was my most successful run to date. Just having Schmoozer beside me was enough to keep me going so I wouldn't look like an idiot and stop and walk.

At home, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped my hair into a turban. It was cool out; I would have to wear long sleeves if I met up with the group for Cinco de Mayo. I sat down at my computer and looked at the invite list again. Everybody was going, including Clemson, Statham and Statham's ex. I sighed. I was worn out from the run. I couldn't think of a cute outfit I hadn't worn yet that had long sleeves. I sat quietly and listened to myself. I didn't want the calories or the alcohol of the margaritas—tequila isn't exactly known for making people get along. More than anything, what I really wanted to do was plop down on my couch with my wet hair and watch Grey's Anatomy.

In the spirit of my 5-mile run and being healthy, that's exactly what I decided to do.

***

Waiting for me this morning was an e-mail from Statham. I was surprised because we've all but become strangers to each other. He told me that in my absence, the gossip mill was in full swing last night. It's a group that if you're not there, you're going to be talked about. I can't and don't want to make every event anymore; I'm going to be talked about eventually.

I responded and asked if there was anything I needed to know.

I received this response:

That Clemson is a good guy.

Your name came up, so I purposely started telling him that I'd heard the 2 of you had "been" together... he denied it. A couple of other people had heard the same thing, but Clemson explained that you just crashed at his place one night instead of driving home after the bar.

Good guy... kinda changed my opinion of him...

Oh yeah... no reason to be weird around me... kinda awkward walking into the bar the other night and the conversation stopped when you saw me walking over to say hey.

Tears stung my eyes as I read the e-mail. Why would Statham approach Clemson and start making up lies? Statham knows nothing happened; I told him so. I guess Statham wanted confirmation from both sides. And what's it to him anyway? He's spending all of his spare time with his ex. He should be relieved that whatever rumor is circulating about me doesn't involve him. Instead he's stirring the pot.

I don't care about the Clemson rumor. It isn't true. And even if it was, there are no ramifications. We're both single people without any league baggage. He hasn't hooked up with anyone from the league. I have, but due to Statham's concern about his perception of being a good guy, I know he'll never say a word.

But what's it to Statham for being concerned about anything regarding me?