Please Remember That I Was Only 19

See, you all THINK that you want more of the story. Because you think that it’s what, like half way done? A quarter way done?

Let’s just put it this way. My last post? Was the first week that I met Nordic Boy. And if you will recall, I began that post by saying that our getting-together story was several years long. We are one week in, people. ONE WEEK.

I’ll keep going with the story. But when you are cursing me at the end of this entry, please remind yourselves that you asked me to do this. Kaythanks.

So when we left off, we had the perfect set up. I was free of the dastardly cheaty boyfriend (aka Poop Nugget), I had successfully gotten crushworthy Nordic Boy to hang out with me outside of work, and the planets were aligning, if only I would get myself together.

In my apartment, I had two couches that faced each other, with a coffee table in between. He sat on one, and I sat on the other. Nordic Boy and I chatted it up and then decided we would play cards. The only problem was that I, at that time, only knew little kid card games. No Hearts, no Poker, no nothing. So we played rounds of Crazy 8s, and Old Maid, and King’s Corners, and War. For hours. It was a blast. HE was a blast. It would be no exaggeration to say that it was just about the best time I could remember having up until that point. As we played and talked, I made up my mind. I was going to Make Something Happen.

Although (as I have already stated) I was a pretty immature 19 year old with many other faults I am sure, one thing that I have never had a problem with is Making Something Happen. In high school I was actually known for this. As my friend Ali who has known me my entire life has said many a time, I had balls. Gigantic ones. I wasn’t skerred of nothing. Everything I wanted in life, I went and got. It was like, my thing. So even though I had lots of doubts about whether or not Nordic Boy had any of those types of feelings about me at all, and all of the evidence thus far had pointed in the direction of no, probably not, I didn’t care. I was going Make Something Happen.

So here’s what I did. (And you know what? This story is so fricking embarrassing my eyes are watering a little bit right now). I wound down the cards but kept the conversation going. And then I got up to get us something to drink, and when I came back, I sat next to him on the couch, instead of across from him. He didn’t even bat an eye at this. Then I started to scoot in. Right into his personal space.

Oh I am a smooth one. You better believe it.

I scooted in, and then I scooted in some more. You’d think that a dude would realize this, wouldn’t you? You would think that the dude would show some signs of (a) heightened flirtatiousness, or (b) winding up for making a big move, or (c) showing signs of uncomfortable shifting away with repulsion. Nordic Boy did none of these things. He acted perfectly normal. No change. Chatting, chatting.

I scooted until I was practically on his lap, people. And then I even leaned in. I leaned! And…nothing. I swear to you it was like he had no depth perception or something. And it’s not like he was leaning away. He still was acting friendly, sweet, interested in the conversation. What the hell, right?

You think you have seen the full range of my Ballsiness? Oh no. You haven’t.

At the next pause in conversation, when it seemed most appropriate to bring in a new topic, I said this:

“So, do you want to kiss, or what?”

Let’s all say it together, shall we? BALLLLZZZZZZ.

Everything in the room became very still. Nordic Boy looked at me, SHOCKED. Not a traumatized shock, but it was clear that he wasn’t expecting that in. the. slightest. Never mind that he had The Leaning Tower of Librarian Girl not 4 inches from his face. A couple of seconds went by. It felt like oh, 8 thousand years.

Then he said:


So we hooked up. And it was lovely. And that should be the end of that tune.

But the next day? Poop Nugget called. And apologized. And said he wanted to work this out, and please baby baby please.


And then I had to break it to Nordic Boy. How do you think he took this? Will this story ever end? Does anyone even care?

I didn’t think so.

I’m out,
Librarian Girl


  1. Agh! The suspense! It’s like watching Lost, except I don’t have your relationship story in 3 seasons of DVDs. Meaning, when you end the post, I can’t just pop in another installment. Which, you know, sucks, because I’m a sucker for how-did-you-meet stories. Especially when they’re long.

  2. Like watching Lost, Rachel? It’s more like watching How I Met Your Mother (which I know you also love), and we’re the kids sitting there, listening to LG tell the whole story of how her and our dad hooked up. Every detail.Except there’s no Barney. And that makes me sad.

  3. I am loving loving loving this story. Thanks for indulging us, your loyal readers. Can’t wait for the next installment of “As The Librarian Turns.”

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