Simple, effective, and yet still nice. My text makes it clear that I have moved on and that there are no hard feelings (even if there are still some on my part, he doesn’t need to know it).
Within seconds of sending off my text, three dots appear on the screen, indicating that he is responding:
Just one date. Only it won’t be an actual date. Just to talk.
I wait a good thirty minutes before answering, mentally deliberating the pros and cons of agreeing to his proposal. Finally, I text, sending it quickly before I have a chance to change my mind:
Only for one drink. How about Tuesday? I can meet you at Stan’s at 6:30.
...
14
The Elephant in the Room
Puppies and Babies. Advertisers often rely on these cute beings to grab an audience’s attention and evoke emotion. Consumers positively react to the many commercials filled with cuddly creatures and cherub infants. They are safe and inviting. But what about other advertising creature comforts like the elephant? In a recent Internet search, I discovered eight commercials featuring large, grey elephants. Large but unassuming, these prominent animals deserve the same respect. But yet, no one is talking about it.
- Jason Bixley, Advertising Intern
THE TESTING FOR TAEKWONDO is more formal than I anticipated. It isn’t just our class testing but other belts also—green, purple, and even some double black belts—with each class taking turns occupying the center of the room. My hands are sweating profusely when I take the floor with my classmates, even Logan seems nervous. Master Kim directs us to start with our form routines, turning my panicked mind suddenly to mush. I take a deep breath to calm myself, hoping that the hours I’ve spent practicing will pay off and that my body will instinctively respond.
Hands draped by my side, I bow before snapping my arms sharply in front of me, following Master Kim’s prompts to fluidly move step by step through the routine. The testing is a blur, but one that I survive, along with my classmates—all of whom are then instructed to take a seat while select pairs are invited to demonstrate their sparring moves.
Logan and I are one of the first groups to spar; I try keeping a straight face, remaining focused, despite Logan’s wink at me as we take to the mat. This exercise, in a room full of fifty gawkers, is not as much fun as when Logan and I sparred in my living room. Seeing their faces ignites my nerves and triggers involuntary giggles on my part. I can almost feel Master Kim’s disapproval from the sidelines.
“You did good, kid,” Logan says to me when we are done.
It is only a yellow belt – the lowest belt on the pecking order – but I feel a strong sense of pride, especially when Master Kim awards, wraps, and then knots the belt around me. I am a badass, I tell myself.
“Hey, a few of us from class are grabbing some dinner to celebrate. Want to come with us?” Logan asks. Of course, this is a no-brainer for me. I relish any opportunity to spend time with Logan, which I sadly admit only to myself.
“Sure, but I need to change first,” I answer. Fortunately, I came straight to testing from work and still have my work clothes in the car. “I can just meet you all there.”
“I have to change too. If you want, we can ride over together and I can just drop you back off at your car,” Logan offers.
“Sure, that would be great,” I say trying to sound normal. The thought of riding alone with Logan causes a fluttering sensation that has become frequent whenever I am around him. I know better than to read into his invitation and take it as yet another indication that I am truly in the friend-zone.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Logan says, breaking up the silence that dominates the car ride from the Taekwondo studio to the restaurant.
“Just tired, I guess.”
“How’s work going?” he asks, to which I succinctly reply with a “good”. The confines of Logan’s small car make me excruciatingly aware of our intimate proximity, causing me to scrutinize my every breath and movement. It is the first time that our conversation seems stilted.
Two of our other classmates, Jay and Marcy, are already at the restaurant when we arrive. My previous interaction with them had been limited to small talk and commiserating looks that we would give each other during classes. Jay is short and stocky with the physique of a gymnast—broad shoulders, small waist, and muscular arms that snugly shape his tight-fitting sleeves. Marcy is equally athletic looking with a lean frame, resembling that of a runner. Jay and Marcy typically partner up during the sparring drills, but I am not sure if they are a couple or just friends. It later becomes clear at dinner that they are indeed dating.
Casey, another female classmate, joins us a bit later. We had already ordered appetizers and a round of drinks by the time she arrives.
“Sorry I’m late, I had to run home first and change,” Casey says when she plops down at the chair seated at the end of the table. “Is anyone else joining us?”
“Nope, it’s just us,” Jay answers.
“Oh, yikes, I didn’t know I would be the only single person coming. Hope you don’t mind a fifth wheel,” Casey replies, which catches me completely off guard.
“You’re not a fifth wheel. We’re not a couple,” I blurt out.
“You’re not?” Casey responds.
“You’re not?” Marcy echoes.
“No, no,” I protest.
“I’m sorry, I just assumed that you were since you’re always partnered up,” Casey apologizes. “It just seemed like—sorry about that.”
“No, we thought the same thing,” Marcy adds with a puzzled look on her face. “Really? You’re not dating?”
Why won’t they drop it and why isn’t Logan intervening? Even though he is sitting right beside me, I don’t have the guts to look in his direction. Is he embarrassed like me?
“No, we’re just friends,” I answer. “Logan has a girlfriend.”
“Oh,” Jay, Marcy, and Casey say in unison, which is followed by an awkward silence.
“I’m dating someone, yes, but it’s pretty casual at this point,” Logan replies.
“And that’s exactly why I could never date Logan. He doesn’t believe in having a girlfriend,” I say with a laugh, trying to interject some humor in the conversation. Instead my response seems to elicit uncomfortable stares.
“So anyway, here’s to us and our new belt,” I continue, trying to change the subject. The five of us lift our glasses and toast each other on our recent success. The tension slowly dissipates as dinner progresses. By the end of the meal, the conversation about Logan and appears to be forgotten. That is until it is time to pay and the waitress asks if we need separate checks.
“Do you want to just split it five ways?” Casey asks, to which we all agree will be the easiest option.
“This is for Marcy and me,” Jay says, laying down cash after the waitress drops off the check.
“And this is for me and Ashley,” Logan says, following Jay’s lead. All heads, including mine, turn towards Logan. What the heck is he doing? We were able to put the notion of us as a couple to rest, but then he goes and volunteers to pay for my meal?