Single Girl Diaries — My ALMOST Date

Part I-Meeting

It was a beautiful Sunday evening. I was atop the University Parking Garage taking photos for an Advanced Techniques of Photojournalism assignment in which I had to take photos of the same thing every three hours from dawn until dusk. It had been a long day, but it was my final trek up the four flights of stairs and I just wanted to get it over with.

Within a few moments, I was set up and ready to shoot (photos). It really was lovely. I was enjoying a light breeze and the natural sounds from the streets below me. Then I heard something out of place and really close. I turned around and saw the back of a boy riding away on a longboard. Cool, I thought. Then a second boy on a longboard went by. I smiled and waved this time, then turned back to my work.

A few minutes later, someone called out to me asking what I was doing. I was startled, but it was just the longboarders. Cute longboarders.

After my quick explanation, our conversation took a quick turn. We began to talk about a vast array of things from underwater caving to spaghetti donuts. There was never a lull in the conversation. It was great.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that I was making fast friends on the top of a parking garage. As the sun disappeared below the horizon and the light began to fade, I decided it was time for me to go. (I had a lot of work to do or else I would have stayed.) With a casual “see ya later,” we parted ways.

I descended the staircase with my clunky gear and made it to the street below only to see one of the longboarders standing in the road. I thought little of it. They’d told me they lived nearby. So it caught be by surprise when he called out my name. I walked over all suave and confident (lol. because I’m super suave and cool and stuff).

He then, in the most adorable fashion, asked for my phone number and if I’d like to get coffee sometime. WHAT. Is this real life? Did that just happen to me? An attractive, funny, cool guy just asked for my number? I had to consciously remind myself to answer out loud (I obviously said yes) and he handed me his iPhone. We parted ways after that and I giggled like a school girl all the way to my apartment.

My reaction

My reaction

Part II-Texting

Sk8r boi waited the appropriate amount of time before texting me without seeming too eager (24 hours). He opened with the fact that he’d been on the parking garage again and expected to see me, and ended with asking me to coffee on Wednesday. I told him I’d have to check my SUPER busy schedule, but yes.

We proceeded to text the rest of the night. I think we discussed emojis for an hour. It was my kind of conversation. The next night, a very similar thing occurred. He told me I was slacking not being on the parking garage and I told him I was at my campus ministry. We then spoke (typed) until midnight.

channing-tatum-animated-gif-6

Part III-Wednesday

It was the day. He asked to get coffee Wednesday. It was Wednesday. I was freaking out. I’d spoken to several friends about it (because I don’t know how to date and whatnot), but felt reassured. But as the day wore on, I heard nothing. No “Hey, what’s a good time for you?” Nothing.

I didn’t want to initiate the conversation. I mean, this was his thing. He asked me, right? But at 7 o’clock, I decided I’d waited long enough.

“Hey, where did you want to get coffee?” I asked.

His response? He forgot. “We might have to reschedule for next week. Is that cool?”

Of course that was cool. I’m forgetful. I do that kind of thing all the time. We hadn’t actually set a time or place and coffee was only mentioned once two nights prior. So I gave him the benefit of the doubt and said yes.

Then nothing. No more conversation. No reschedule. Nothing.

Did I do something wrong?

What could have happen in that short period of time to abruptly end things? There was zero commitment. I’m even hesitant to call it a date. We were just getting coffee, for goodness sake. Was he really just that forgetful?

confused

Part IV-Aftermath

So that was it. I didn’t hear from him anymore. We did have a run-in a few days later, but it was very brief and kind of awkward. It also ended with a “see ya later” rather than a “we still need to get coffee.”

Since then, I’ve seen him everywhere. No, I’m not stalking him. No, he’s not stalking me. But we apparently have similar taste in coffee shop hangouts and outdoor spaces. It’s even gotten to the point where I texted him and told him to stop showing up where I am. (I was trying to be cute and flirty, obviously.) He lol’ed and told me to say hi next time.

But that was it. Also, one of my besties (and mutual friend of sk8r boi) decided to take it upon himself to discover the answer to my question by subtly mentioning me in conversation. Sk8r boi responded (on his own accord) that he’d met me, I was pretty cool and that he’d asked me to coffee, but had been really busy.

So is he interested? Is he not? Was he really just busy? Do people think these things through? Has he even thought about it? Am I crazy to put this much thought into this? UGH. SOMEONE TAKE AWAY MY INTERNET.

uncomfortable

(Also, if he (sk8r boi) somehow stumbles across this blog, please know that I am not crazy. I just overthink things and write about them for reassurance. Please disregard this post. I’m pretty normal and mildly funny.)

Ugh. Whateva,

Ellise

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OOPS – SORRY LIZ (and everyone else for my excessive blogging)

writingsuccess

I dropped the ball when it comes to sharing my work (at least the little work I’ve done) for The Columbia Missourian.

I’ve written three and a half articles this semester, my favorite being an investigative piece about whether or not the use of travel hammocks is allowed on MU’s campus. I discovered that not only are they not allowed at MU, but they aren’t allowed in ANY Columbia park.

Fortunately, it’s more of a suggestion. They’ve only given warnings at this point. Which is good news because I love my hammock and will probably continue to use it in Peace Park.

Here are the links to all the stories I’ve written thus far:

MU Museum of Art and Archaeology galleries delayed due to renovations

This story caused me a lot of problems. It was my first piece and I screwed up. I completely misunderstood a HUGE part and when fact checking, I didn’t even think to ask for clarification. This resulted in embarrassment and doubt. Not the best way to start out the semester.

MizzouDiversity hosts ‘Forum on Ferguson,’ open dialogue for MU, Columbia community

This story was fairly simple. Just a quick briefing. However, I managed to anger on source because she refused to get back to me while I tried to fact check.

MU celebrates 175 years with a weeklong series of events

LOL. This began as a timeline briefing about events and turned into something much greater. My dear editor took it and made it anew. It is now credited to “Missourian Staff” if that gives you any idea of how much I suck. (Love ya, Liz)

Hammock users, swing at your own risk at MU, city parks

This story has been my favorite. I pitched the idea for it on a slow GA (general assignment) day. I thought it would be quick and easy. No no no. Journalism is not quick and easy, silly Ellise. This story took FIVE DAYS. FIVE. I knew by day two that the usage of hammocks was in fact not allowed, but I needed confirmation and details from a single person that REFUSED to get back to me. I thought it was a simple question, but she didn’t know the answer. When she finally got back to me, she literally sent me a link to a policy THAT I SENT HER FIRST. That obviously did not answer my question. Thankfully, by the next day, I got a much more clear answer and was able to finish my piece.

Overall, The Columbia Missourian has been a great experience. Hard? YES. Stressful? BEYOND WORDS. Have I been hiding in a coffee shop for literally 8 hours now to avoid it? YES.

But I’m beginning to feel more confident in reporting. I know that I’ll be torn apart in my portfolio review tomorrow, but for a girl that just wants to be a photographer and write silly stories about her life, I feel pretty dang proud of myself. I’m trying hard at something that I really hate. I may not be great at it, but I’m getting by.

Do The British Like Coffee?

london

As of yesterday, I can officially say that I’ll be spending my spring semester in London, England. Woah. Ugh. Writing that makes it feel so…official. So real. Am I really going to London or is this a sick joke?

I’ve been working towards this since freshman year. One of the main reasons I chose MU was because of their London internship program. January to April, I’ll be working for an actual news organization in London. I don’t know where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing, but what I can tell you is that I’ve never been more nervous and excited for something in my life.

For some silly reason, I’ve romanticized this foreign city. I imagine it as my be-all and end-all. Without this experience, I won’t ever discover what I truly want in life. Why? I don’t know. I’m probably crazy.

As you can imagine, I’m scared to death. I’ve been abroad before. When I was fifteen, I spent a month in Australia with a group of strangers, so I’m not nervous to be out of my element and in a foreign place. But I am afraid of failure.

What if I get there and can’t perform well at my internship? What if they hate me? What if I discover that journalism isn’t for me? What if I accidentally use a British accent in front of the wrong person and they kick me out of the country?

On top of failure, there are so many other “what ifs” running through my mind right now. Can I really afford to do this? What if I run out of money? What if I fall in love with a member of One Direction and then have to come back to America? What if I decide I never want to leave? What if I hate it and want to leave? What if they don’t have coffee?

So for right now, I could use a few prayers for peace and a friendly reminder that everything will be okay. Even if my trip is sub par and I end up living on bangers and mash once I run out of money. I can’t imagine this trip won’t have some huge impact on me, whether that be my confidence, my journalism skillz, or my life as a whole.

If nothing else, I’ll at least get some badass photos of Big Ben and Platform 9 and 3/4, right?