Sunday, September 25, 2011

The Class

The following was a piece I wrote for a class on writing memoirs ... Still one of my best stories ....

"The Class"

I'd been divorced six months … alone, but in no way lonely. This had actually been a good time for me … time to reflect … time to get to know myself again. Christmas had come and gone … and a great one it was. I got to have my son Harrison for a few days, and that made the whole holiday for me. By the time I'd returned him to his mother after New Years, I still had $50 of my Christmas bonus burning a hole in my pocket, and decided I needed to do something "educational" with it … a way to start off the new year on the right foot. I found a class on the basics of photography at the local Vo-Tech college, and rationalizing that since I took pictures as part of my job, this would be a good "refresher course" for me to begin my continued education.

Classes began in late January, meeting every Tuesday night at 7 pm for two hours. The course ran eight weeks. That worked out perfect … this was a slow time of year for me, and by the time the class was over, I'd be looking to spend time pursuing more meaningful goals … like fishing every opportunity I could.

First night of class I was feeling good. I was getting out in the community … doing something for myself and not just vegging out in front of the TV. As the other students began to file into the room, it was obvious this was a real "mixed bag" of folk. There were a handful of "Biddies" … those middle aged gals looking for another class to fill their otherwise boring lives, a small group of regular "collegians" trying to add a few more credits to their résumé's, and a few folks like myself … "The Learners" … there because they had an interest in learning more about the subject and themselves.

Let me say this right here and now … I wasn't one of those middle-aged single guys that signs up for a class more for the opportunity to meet a member of the opposite sex than the opportunity to learn something. I was dating plenty … I didn't need another "system" for meeting women. This was going to be one evening a week I exercised my brain instead of my libido. That was the plan anyway … that was before Jackie.

I didn't know her name right away … that took a few weeks. She was one of "The Learners". She came in to class that first night and immediately caught my eye. Oh, she was no raving beauty … she was good looking alright … but "Learners" don't typically come to class looking to impress anybody. She looked much like I did … jeans (with ripped out knees), baggy sweatshirt, no "fixin'" of the hair, and no makeup. She was there to learn what the instructor had to teach … nothing else. But she did have a nice smile, and the biggest brown eyes I'd ever seen. But I was there to learn too … and that's what I kept having to remind myself.

Each week that went by I found myself watching this brown eyed gal across the room more than the instructor. It was eating at me … should I try asking her out, or would that be crass? She probably had no interest in meeting anyone … she was probably married, or had a boyfriend anyway. What the hell was going on with me? I'd never had any trouble approaching women … but then the hay-day of my dating career had been many moons past. Most of the women I'd dated recently were "fix-ups" courtesy of friends, or the occasional "internet connection" (a method I deem deadly … my results into the cyber-dating scene would read like a Steven King novel!).

Those gals never made me nervous, but this one sure did. Three or four weeks into the class and I'd yet to really even speak to the brown eyed wonder that was invading my psyche … until one evening when class started late because the instructor was late and the class room was still locked when everyone arrived. I ended up sitting on the floor outside the classroom, and before I knew it, she was sitting next to me. We struck up a casual conversation … mostly about her kids, a little about her work. I can't recall exactly how it went … I just know I did decipher some key information … her name was Jackie, she was single (divorced), had kids (sounded like two girls), and she was a dental hygienist with an interest in photography. Now I was hooked! I had to find out more … I had to get to know this brown eyed Jackie a little better. It was bugging me … eating at me … I couldn't get her out of my head. The best medicine for this affliction would have to be get it over with … ask her out and find out for sure that she's just another women hell-bent on causing me more headaches … that would be my cure.

I had made up my mind. The following week I'd approach Jackie after class and I'd ask her out … simple … no big deal. As the next Tuesday rolled closer, the more I fixated on this seemingly simple task. I'd asked tons of other gals out before … so what was the deal here? OK, so she had nice dark hair (I've developed a real disdain for blondes by this point in my life), beautiful soft brown eyes, and her hands … oh yeah, her hands. They were graceful, soft (they looked soft anyhow … I hadn't held them yet), and had tastefully manicured nails … long, but not too long, and bare … no polish. Not to sound too weird or anything, but I've always noticed people's hands.

Tuesday finally arrived, and I headed off to class a little earlier than usual (anxious I guess). When I got there, the room was open and empty … it was 6:40pm. Nothing unusual so far … I was usually a bit early, and the first one there. I sat down in my seat near the door, took out my notes from the week previous, and began to fill the time reviewing last weeks lessons. A few moments passed and I noticed I was still alone in the class room. It's now 6:50 pm … still not to concerned … folks should be filing in any minute. I began to rehearse in my head what I'd say to Jackie … how I'd ask her out and even how I'd react if she shot me down. It 's now 6:58 pm. As I glance through the remainder of my notes from the previous week, I noticed a particular entry I made at the bottom of the page and highlighted with an asterisk … "*No Class Next Week".

Embarrassed, and disappointed, I closed my notebook, placed it back in my satchel, put on my jacket, and left the room.

Hopefully next week would go better …….

It did!

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