Lara Part 1

I have always been the romantic type. Since I have been able to differentiate between “girls have cooties” and the fact that they are the finer of the two genders, women have been my weakness. At the time of writing this, I have had a lot of partners, and they each have come with their own flavor of heartbreak. This story is the retelling of three years of my life that caused a lot of shock and damage to that romantic side of me. This story is about my relationship with Lara Howard.


 

It was July 4th. The day where the sky lights up with a dazzling array of bright lights, and the American populace is filled with alcohol and a false sense of national pride. This was also the time of year that my sleepy little town had its county fair. Year after year, it was the same shitty carnival rides and food stands. The fairgrounds were always littered with the finest examples of the citizenry. A swarming mass of high school age degenerates and senior citizens wandered around the same circle they travelled every year being covered in the stench of fair food and alcohol. Where was I during this? I was locked up in my room in another of my familiar fits of depression. The auto parts factory I worked for at the time had decided to give us a week-long break from the grease infested hell we pulled our paychecks from. I was in the beautiful pendulum swing of manic depression that came from the current female I was chasing. She had pushed me away again for another time in a multiple year period. I was content with staring at my ceiling and hating my life for another night when all of a sudden a voice popped into my head that said, “Get up. Get out.” This voice was what led me to a multiple year roller coaster ride that had no escape.

I got up. I peeled myself from my hole and got ready to take a shower. My reflection in the mirror peered back at me. The body that had given me so many insecurities over my life mocked me like it always did. I washed the self-hatred off of me and got myself dressed up in my best alt-goth attire. I cinched the belt down on my borrowed bondage kilt and threw on my hat. What can i say? I’m a weird guy. I sometimes dress in the extreme. A deep breath left my tar-covered lungs, and I stepped out the door to head to our county fair.

The fair was uneventful; same shit but a different year. I connected with some friends and wandered around the fair. A few hours passed, and I decided it was time for me to make my exit from the display of small town society. I didn’t feel like paying a crazy amount of money for a decent helping of artery-clogging fair food so I made my way to the bastion of American capitalism that is Wal-Mart. That was the main decision that would change the coming years. Sometimes, I hate my stomach.

I walked through the sliding glass doors of our local superstore. Something had me confident. I don’t know what had changed about me, but it was very clear that something was different. I just so happened to run into a group of friends I had known since high school. We kept the small talk going around as custom dictates. There was a new addition though. She was tall with short cut hair. She was a bit on the androgynous side, the skinny type with a small B-cup. She was beautiful. The little alternative chick who had the ability to be a model. She eventually made that a reality, but I can get into that later. She interjected every now and then into our conversation, and I threw a bit of comment her way with a soft hand on her shoulder. I noticed her blush as I touched her, and I knew I had my in. I have to hand it to my buddy, Brian. He took notice and decided to split the party. Lara and I walked around the store, while I formulated a plan to ask for her phone number, but she sprang the question to me first. I took down the digits and said goodbye with my sandwich and ice cream in tow.

I made my way home. No sooner had I got in the door, I had a text message notification pop up on my phone. The short of it was she had a fight with her ex-boyfriend and wanted me to come pick her up to hang out. I jumped in the shower again real quick because heat and a guy who sweats a lot don’t mix very well. Then, I was on my way to pick her up. After I passed her house three times, I finally spotted this little vixen waiting out in the street. She got in my truck, and we were off to make the best we could of the night.

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