The Not so Tragic Love Life of Kate Awkward: Part 2

[This post was previously published in mid-March, but was deleted. However, because the author is a violent hypocrite, she decided to repost it.]


This is a continuum of Part 1. If you haven't read the first installment, I would suggest you do so now.

If you've already witness the unappealing horror of that portion, then fear not. This one won't be quite as painful.

Though, by proxy, it will also be less funny. My apologies for not being able to drown everything in my insatiable wit.

All of the following is still basically true. The names of those unfortunate souls involved are still changed for the sake of their dignity, save for Kate's. She can still reap the failure she has sown.

Now.

As you might recall, Emo-Girl had just destroyed Goldfish's heart, but more importantly his lungs, since clearly she was the only thing stopping him from his consumptive smoking addiction.

With these heavy thoughts weighing on her soul, her feelings could only be described by this:

 [Photo copyrighted to Mr. Mark]

Unsure how to cope, she sought consolation in the psychopath, which, at the time, seemed better than melting despairingly into the purple shag carpet in her dorm room.

That same day, to aid her distressed caretaker, psychopath devised a brilliant plan:

Go find boys.

Fail el Numero Dos: Octopus

Since neither psychopath nor Emo-Girl were capable of sustaining real friendships with guys without either jumping down their throats about relationships or frightening them, they decided throw their unsightly presence on Corgill, the current love interest to psychopath, and his best friend, Octopus.

At first the plan seemed like one of worth, but rebound was a foreign concept to Emo-Girl.

In terms of taste, Corgill was more to her liking since he was cynical, theatrical, and an asshole but he was psychopath's turf.

Emo-Girl knew never to tread on psychopaths turf. Otherwise:

Which usually resulted in:

So, rather than have her spleen melted by sheer feminine rage, she turned her flighty attention to Octopus.

Due to her dramatic expulsion earlier, Emo-Girl's emotional endurance had withered considerably, so she allowed the Fates to take her where they pleased.

They took her into a Nerf-Gun battle.

Armed and dangerous [mostly to herself], Emo-Slinger fought valiantly against her adversary.

Octopus, despite his squishy, somewhat harmless name, was a fortress of a person.

He could be likened to a sentient oak tree on steroids.

He was agile, resourceful, calculating.

And he cheated.

Rather than stay in the fray like a real man, he used the safety of Corgill's room as a hideout.

All Emo-Girl had was a stool.

She did her very best to keep from having to surrender, but lack of ammunition and fear of entering enemy territory to retrieve some caused her to issue a ceasefire.

He stopped his barrage, but he was wary of her guile, since she had proved to be crafty when she feigned injury in order to get a cheap shot.

Psychopath, being ignored by Corgill, decided that she wanted to enlist in the warfare.

At last, Emo-Girl had an ally. She and her stool wouldn't have to fly solo any longer against Octopus Cheatermobile.

Ammunition was redistributed and the onslaught began again.

It seemed to be going well until

she was betrayed by psychopath. 

Confused and distressed by this, Emo-Girl stood up and faced her confederate. 

While she gawked, Octopus took his chance and resumed the skirmish.

Being shot at on both sides, Lieutenant Emo knew that her abilities as a Nerf gun-wielding soldier would not suffice. The best she could do was hide in the bathroom and hope they got bored waiting for her to come out.

As a last show of courage, she surrendered. 

<Due to the poor memory of the author, the rest of the night has been omitted for fear of falsifying details and because she can't honesty remember a dillydamned thing after this point.>

Emo-Girl laid in her bed, listening to quiet, angsty music and ruminating on her encounter with Octopus.

He had provided her with the first night of true, unhindered fun since she befriended the psychopath.

It was nice. It made her soul feel less black, like someone had sprinkled glitter into her murky, churning soup of melancholy. 

It was as if her soul had transformed from this:

Into this:

[Image copyright to Dragon Faerie]

However, Emo-Girl was more tentative to declare her feelings for Octopus as deathless love, since her feelings for Goldfish weren't as unconditional as she had pretended they were. 

Though, Octopus appeared to be a better candidate for her spastic, unstable affections than Goldfish. He was going to college (albeit community college) and had a job.

The Hunt was on again. 

She began by stalking finding him and talking over Facebook Chat because clearly Emo-Girl didn't learn from her first mistake. 

Facebook moved to Instant Messenger, which moved to text messaging, and finally to phone calls. [If you're not having violent de ja vu, your brain capacity is equal to that of a ground squirrel. Offense should be taken and hate mail should be sent.]

Though, unlike last time, the more they talked the more she liked him. She didn't have to force her feelings like she was eating unrefrigerated week old trout.

Another exquisite difference: they were able to have conversations about more than three subjects, which secured that Octopus had more than 4 firing neurons. She even was bold enough to believe that he had at least 30 that were continually working.

However, the magical, intelligent goodness that they shared was in grave danger.

Psychopath had turned her fickle attentions to Octopus, since Corgill had made it very apparent that there was nothing between them.

Now, due to unspoken [crazy] women laws, she expected Emo-Girl to bow out.

Emo-Girl knew this, but apparently she had a death wish.

Since, when psychopath liked a creature of the male species, no other female could even daydream about him without disastrously infringing on her rights.

But, Emo-Face continued to talk to Octopus secretly at her own peril.

Of course, because Emo-Girl couldn't lie to save her life and her sneaking skills were somewhat like walking on tile in a pair of lead flippers, she was found out fairly quickly.

You can guess what happened next:

Emo-Girl however did not, however, implode into panicked, fearful spasms of remorse and servitude.

She continued on her merry way, ignoring the fire-breathing psychopath that was intent on singeing her eyebrows off.

Eventually, after it was again made clear that she would have no luck, psychopath stopped drinking liquid flames and turned her attentions elsewhere. However,

 resentment festered.

[If you're not notably unsettled by this, you do not understand the monstrosity that is psychopath's wrath.]

<Fast Forward through the boring parts, which consist mostly of drama inducing IM conversations. To avoid boring you further, I will skip directly to the most exciting part, which by nature will quickly turn to the most horrific. You're welcome.>

It was a lovely autumn day. The weather was the kind of weather that was perfect for going on outdoor adventures, having magical experiences with the glories of nature. 

Emo-Girl, on the other hand, was:

-sitting in her room

-by herself

-trolling on the 1nt3rn3tz

-with all the lights off

...because that's how she rolled.

She was obviously a creature of the night.

However, despite her penchant to be vampirically antisocial, she knew something was wrong. 

She had not see icon nor screen name of Octopus all day. 

She was beginning to think that something entirely horribly had happened to him, like a herd of venomous deer with lightning for horns had caught him on his way to work and convinced him to join a nudist colony. 

Or worse. 

A Jehovah's Witness might have shown up at his door and given him pamphlet's about "Global Warming" which were really just thin disguises for their religious sect.

With these tantalizing prospects hanging over her head, she felt her fears had been realized when she was startled by psychopath's unmistakable panicked knocking on her door.

But when she answered, nothing was wrong. 

In fact, psychopath seemed to be eager for something.

Emo-Girl was bewildered. 

She went back to what she was doing, trying not to let psychopath's antics derail her from her very important fretting.

Then her phone rang, which startled her into more terror induced phantasms. 

At least until she saw who it was.

It was Octopus!

Her fears allayed, she answered the phone. 

They had some nice small talk, but then the conversation took a strange turn.

Kate: So, what's up?

Octopus: I... I don't think we can hang out over break.

What could this horrible omen mean for their wonderful future involving comic drawing children?

Stunned, Emo-Girl felt herself spiraling into anguish. 

Kate: Wh-what? Whyyy?

Octopus: 'Cause I'd much rather just go on a date with you.

Emo-Girl could not compute. 

Her brain had crashed and was now issuing the blue screen of death. 

Kate: Wah-... buh- Uuuaaaaaaaaht?! 

Octopus: Yeah, would you be up for it?

Kate: Wha- cuh- ffff, yes! I mean- shyeah, I'd really like that!

Octopus: Great!

Since Time is run by an ornery five year old with a temper problem, the night of the date arrived slower than Emo-Girl would've liked.

But it arrived. 

After much hassle with Emo-Girl's crippling indecision, the two had decided to go out to dinner and then to a movie.

The date started off well.

But then, they pulled into the restaurant.

<insert DOOM>

Emo-Girl had this notion that she was self-sufficient.

But when she went to exercise it by opening her door to get out of the car, Octopus nearly had a conniption and insisted that he get it for her.

She felt that she was perfectly capable of pulling on a handle and then pushing a door open.

Octopus was argued that it was the principle of the matter.

Emo-Girl was not convinced, but she ceded, not because he was right, but because he locked the passenger side door and would not unlock it unless she agreed to let him open it for her.

Opening doors from the inside was another skill that eluded Emo-Girl.

The date resumed normalcy until it came time to pay. 

As you can guess, Emo-Girl wanted to pay for herself. 

Octopus acted as if she had stabbed him and dumped salt in his open wound after which she lit on fire and laughed maliciously to organ music. 

Emo-Girl did not [and still does not] understand the courtesy of accepting people's generosity. She felt it was the same as indirectly enslaving someone to do her bidding. 

It also undermined her inner masculinity and frustrated her minute testosterone levels.

[Feast your eyes on her manliness. That poor creature next to Emo-Girl is her kid sister, Sqwaunkie.]

So, she insisted that she pay for herself.

However, when the waiter came around, he agreed with Octopus to have the tabs combined.

He didn't even consider Emo-Girl's unreasonable dilemma before he went then back to his business.

The silly girl-child was put out. 

So, in watered down feminist revenge, she paid for her own movie ticket and hid twenty dollars in his car while he wasn't looking.

She was so pleased by her rebellion that she didn't make a fuss for the rest of the evening.

She even let Octopus hold her hand during the movie. 

When they got out of their deeply romantic film [Bolt], it was still early in the night and Emo-Girl wasn't ready to part with her Mildly Chauvinistic Cashier.

Kate: So, whatcha wanna do now?

Octopus: Well, I don't have to have you home until 12:30, so what do you want to do?

Emo-Girl had another bout of immobilizing indecision to which she asked:

Kate: Why? Why do you do this to me?

Octopus: Because it's easy. 

Kate: ...

Octopus: Seriously, what do you want to do?

[Scott Pilgrim copyright to Bryan Lee O'Malley]

Kate: Well, we could go talk somewhere... Like a parking lot or something, since nothing will be open. 

Emo-Girl was not an avid watcher of horror films so she didn't realize her suggestion was somewhat abominable. 

But, despite her inability to sense a murder scene, they went and sat in the parking lot near her place of employment. [The only reason Emo-Girl had a job was because her father owned a business. Not because she had skill. Don't be preposterous.]

So, the talking commenced as they sat in his car. 

Suddenly, Octopus leaned across the seat and laid his head on her arm, which was laying unobtrusively on the armrest of the passenger seat. 

Emo-Girl was perplexed.

Men were still a foreign species to her and her lesson with Goldfish did not increase her knowledge in any respect other than what to avoid in the future.

She wondered if this was the beginning of the male mating ritual, since there was clearly no other reason to lean almost a foot and a half over in a car onto a female's left arm. 

With this in her mind, she had to decide what to do.

The three four choices from before surfaced in her mind, since she had no other point of reference and her teen fiction romance novels had failed her in every instance in the past.

But she quickly cast them aside because they didn't really apply in this situation (save for "Make Babies," but she felt that 'doing it' in a car was entirely undignified). 

She devised a new list of ways to react: 

1.) Ask what the hell he's doing.

2.) Spontaneously grow a third arm out of her sternum and poke his exposed ear.

3.) Pat his head.

Even though she preferred the second, she picked the last and gently tapped his head with her fingers, noting that his hair felt like what she imagined a goat would feel like. 

Though, upon actually feeling a goat at Zona Rosa, she was aghast at the horrible coarseness and realized that boy hair was nothing like it. 

Goats aside, Emo-Girl, unsure how to react further past the head pat, suggested that they go sit in the back seat, so they could talk better.

Unsurprisingly, this didn't occur to her as strange either, nor did it spark her inner "horror" detector. 

Octopus was not adverse to this suggestion, but he made sure to ask if she was comfortable with that.

The moderately dim poser didn't understand [or denied] what he could mean, so she responded with affirmations between bouts of nervous laughter.

They sat in the back of the car exchanging their past love stories, to which Emo-Girl grossly exaggerated her own, pretending that Goldfish was more like a telephone post than a hoers.

The conversation lulled after a while, since neither of the two of them had much of a romantic past. 

Suddenly, as if a storm cloud had taken up residence in the car with them, tension spiked to an electric level. 

Emo-Girl's fountain of hormones began to rush as if someone had stabbed her in the uterus, releasing a wave of womanly passions.

Octopus seemed to feel it too.  

Octopus: May I ask you something?

Kate: Yeahsurewhatsup?

Octopus: I know this is kinda soon for this sort of thing...

Kate: What? I'msureit'sfine. Shoot.

Octopus: Can- Can I kiss you?

Emo-Girl, despite her overwhelming joy, was cooly indifferent in her response.

Kate: Sure. That's fine. 

The process of kissing was less awkward than the first time, though trying to kiss a mule would be less awkward also.

They hesitated momentarily before touching lips, but when they finally did, it... 

It was not nearly what she had expected.

She had imagined it causing her heart to do something like this:

But alack. Nothing even remotely similar happened.

This was probably because she had her expectations up too high. 

Though, it would be quite a feat if a single kiss in the back of a car in a parking lot in the middle of the night caused a young girl's heart to explode out of her chest in a fiery, passionate blast.

It would also call into question your role as a possible serial killer. 

Though, because Emo-Girl had never been truly kissed, she decided that was what they were supposed to feel like and forcibly made herself like it.

The date ended with another short kiss, but it felt the same as the first.

<Fast forward> </Fast forward>

Returning to the veritable hell hole that housed her psychopath, she had an interval of drama, vomiting, and bitter, unmitigated weeping. 

Then Octopus came to visit for the weekend and she was free of her 160 pound ball and chain for the day, since she wouldn't deign to hang out with them. 

Albeit the day started well, but the visit went horribly awry by the end of the night.

It progressed as any hang out day would:

-Watch Octopus play Halo with Corgill and his other more intellectually advanced friend, Wallaby

-Wander campus in search of Enlightenment and the wild pudding bush

-Watch episodes of Invader Zim.

-Then send him home before it got too late.

Though, as they were carrying out the last step, Emo-Girl and Octopus had trouble letting each other go.

So, rather than do the mature thing and part without making things awkward, they decided to sit in the back of his car and talk for a time. 

Though, that quick declined into a three hour make-out session. 

Some new couples would call this a step forward, but for Emo-Girl this was a declaration of marriage. 

After he departed, Emo-Girl quickly fell into doubt. So she went to the only advisee she knew of:

Psychopath. 

Of course, if you recall from earlier: 

The resentment still festered.

[The terror this photo evokes should be similar to waking up to an axe murderer standing over your bed with a bloody hatchet and a glass of Tang to pour down your throat as you die to make your last moments full of sour watered down orange drink.]

So, going to the psychopath, her mind was warped and twisted into believing that Octopus was quite possibly going to kidnap her away to Yunnan to live with the Buddhists the next time they met.

His wonderful image in her mind had transformed from this:

To This:

[Art and Image Copyright to ChongoZilla]

So she resolved to break up with him the very next day. 

When the time came, because she was still a wuss, she called him on the phone and, unlike last time, ended the relationship in a tired, but dignified way, since it was nearly midnight.

<The author of this post would like to extend a not-so-apologetic apology for not including the break up call on the post. But she's still friends with Octopus (or at least she was) and she does not want to encroach on his dignity anymore than she already has. She also extends a thank you to her friend for letting her post this.> 

Thus, concludes the chronicles of The Not So Tragic Love Life of Kate Awkward: Part 2. 

If you haven't decided to hate me because I can't relay my life in a coherently amusing way, keep your eyes peeled for more awkwardness. 

If you have, well, screw you. 

I don't need your approval. 

Peace off.

The Not so Tragic Love Life of Kate Awkward: Part 1

[Oop! It's back. I previously published this in February, but I deleted it because I was ashamed. However, I liked it too much to delete it permanently. That, and I'm an asshole. Enjoy.]

All of the following is basically true. The names have been replaced to protect the dignity of all those involved except Kate, she gets to wallow in her shame.

Let's begin.

There was a girl. Her name was Kate.

Kate had no personal identity because she was lame. 

Falling into the alternative crowd in high school, she developed the desire to be emo. Sadly, she was only a poser. 

She looked like this:

She was very serious about her poserdom.

[Yes, this is an actual photo of me from that period of my life.] 

She was so serious that she took MySpace pictures of herself nearly every day. 

She updated her Facebook status to something tragically sad, like "What if I would go to sleep for days, would you count the hours?" and "I hate my life." 

Or to something unfortunate that happened, like, "I can't believe I have to go to stupid school" and "Why does this keep happening to me?" (The identity of 'this' remains a mystery, but it can be assumed that it had something to do with missing breakfast.) [Yes, these are actual statuses that I posted.]

Clearly, she was a catch just waiting to be had. 

[Note the sarcasm.]

She stalk-... pursued any male who accidentally happened to glance her way, misguided and fueled by bad teen fiction novels that told of instantaneous, "true" love.

She had no luck, to the surprise of no one. Not even her.

Then, this silly non-emo emo kid did something she swore never to do. 

She went to College. 

She proceeded to meet the craziest psychopath to ever walk the earth wearing the clothes of a human being and immediately befriended her.

This friendship swiftly became a doctor-patient-quite-possibly-lesbian situation. 

The non-emo, emo girl willingly played the doctor of the pair, while the psychopath in sheep's clothing was the murder victim in the ER.

This relationship consumed her.

While she denied her suffering for the most part, she used the accepted suffering to fuel her emo-ness. 

During their time together, the psychopath searched for a mate in a frothy, desperate frenzy, excreting angst all over Dr. Emo when her labors were fruitless. Dr. Emo absorbed it and gave the psychopath a dose of hope in each instance.

While trying to balance school, sleep, and taking psycho to the ER every Sunday for five weeks straight, Dr. Emo was trying to find love as well.

Little did she know she was getting in way over her head.

Failure el Numero Uno: Goldfish

Emo Girl met Goldfish while shopping in her favorite poser store, Hot Topic. He was a worker there and one that had caught her eye due to his blood red hair.

His looks and IQ could be likened to this:

Emo Girl was smitten instantly.

Blinded by teenage passion and desperation, she looked around his minor flaws and completely denied the major ones.

Poor Emo-poser-girl was far too shy to talk to him herself and ask his name, so rather than just suck up her fear and talk to him, she avoided it entirely and devised an unnecessarily convoluted plan. 

First, she needed a name. Then her plan could commence without hindrance. 

She knew the receipt would have the name of the cashier on it, since it was clearly out of her capacity to just read his name tag.

So, as time passed, she, in her loitering, over stylized glory, kept revisiting the store, buying pin-buttons, wrist bands, and anything under 5 dollars, hoping to be rung up by her Knight with Shining Nail Polish.

One day, her dreams were realized. 

Pretending to be entirely neutral, but not uninterested, she gave him the "glittering, innocent" smile while she waited [the one she had been practicing beforehand in the mirror at home].  

It looked something like this:

She hoped that in that moment she she had seduced his heart right out of his chest and was just acting completely unchanged by her display of well-practiced enticement.

Her unneeded emo accessories purchased, Emo-Girl left with the receipt, his name firmly printed on it.

At first, she quelled her desire to stalk investigate. She stored the receipt in her wallet for safe keeping.

Then she promptly forgot about it, since the psychopath was having a life threatening situation (meaning she was experiencing slight trauma and was having minor boy troubles) and in need of Dr. Emo's medicinal, and seemingly endless font of encouragement and support. 

Later, after the psychopath had been sated, she found the receipt again and decided to do a little research.

She geared up her computer and with her l33t stalking powers entered his name into the Facebook search bar. 

After only a couple pages of Goldfish with multitudinous last names, she found her Goldfish, identified by his blood red hair. 

She was impressed by her own creepiness and was naturally hesitant to add him. But the distance of the internet and the desire of love compelled her to press the fateful button. 

Hours passed and soon the anxiously awaited notification appeared, telling her that he had added her as a friend.

She felt jubilant, but it was rapidly replaced by terror. What would she do now? 

Talking to him was absolutely preposterous. What would she say when he asked her how she knew him? 

"Oh, I was stalking you..." was not the smoothest path to take. Neither was "I visited your store every weekend for three weeks straight and conveniently 'found' you over Facebook."

So, time passed and, after a long day of emotional harassment from her favorite psychopath, Emo Girl plucked up the courage to FB Chat with him.

The conversation proceeded like a partially oiled machine, awkward, jerky, and spastic. Though, for Emo-Girl this was a step forward. In fact, he seemed amused by her. 

Though, the unavoidable question of who she was did arise.

She hastily gave a partial truth, saying that she knew him from his work, lying that they talked one afternoon while she was shopping. 

He took that story without question. (How this didn't alert her to his lack of functioning neurons will never be resolved.)

This match made in a highly materialistic Alternative store was progressing well.

Instant Message moved to text message (after Goldfish shared his number and Desperation Emo begged her parents to allow her text messaging) and then text messaging to phone calls. 

Their conversations would revolve like fish in a bowl on three subjects, Cars, iPods, and Music, since those were the only three things that Goldfish had the proficiency to address.

Soon, the anticipated day that they would meet finally arrived. Poser-Emo felt like this could be the moment they would confess their undying love for one another.

However, there was a hitch. 

Emo-Face was too afraid to go alone, so she asked the psychopath to go with her.  

As could be assumed, there was no avowal of souls during this meeting. The feelings in Emo Girl's self-blackened heart could be described as thus:

But she felt that it was more like this:

[Image copyrighted to ArtHawk]

Such tragedy.

The next time she saw her beloved Goldfish was when he attended her performance of Macbeth. 

She was playing the romantic part of Witch # 2. Dressed in lingerie with a bloody doll, Emo-Actress captured the heart of her Goldfish as she killed a mother and her son on stage. 

After her disturbing performance, they met up, loitered awkwardly outside the theater while struggling through small talk, then decided to go on a deeply romantic walk to the bluff near the murky, smelly Missouri river. 

Sitting down on the bench nearest the overlook, Emo-Actress' source of knowledge failed her. 

According to her multitudinous adolescent-fiction-romance books, the Bluff was a place where budding lovers discovered each other by the light of the moon. 

This hypothesis could not be tested due to the Abbey full of monks only 500 feet behind her, all of whom had the ability to hear her hair growing without having to open their windows. 

But more so than that, Emo girl was too distracted because Goldfish had his arm around her shoulder and that was the farthest she had gone with any man in her whole lifetime.

She was unsure how to respond. 

In her mind, there were three options:

1.) Scoot closer.

2.) Follow the example of a statue and do absolutely nothing. Not even breathe.

3.) Run. 

4.) Make babies.

That was four. Emo-girl can't quantify either. 

Following her pathetically under-developed womanly instincts, she chose the first.

Using the ambient temperature as an excuse, which was probably around 75 degrees Fahrenheit, she gracelessly jammed herself next to him until she was nestled under his shoulder. 

When he didn't appear fazed by her unwieldy display, she decided it might be safe to lean her head on his shoulder. 

Emo-Girl laid her head on him in such a way that she was still partially holding her head up, but was relying on his shoulder to support her. She did this because she felt resting her head too heavily without tact would signify weakness or harlotry and setting it too lightly would make her seem standoffish and stiff.

As could be expected, this position was comfortable for a grand span of 4 seconds. 

Her neck tightened and her neglected muscles cried, but she didn't want to pull away. She was sure that he would feel utterly rejected since she was positive her most precious, awkward affection was the only thing keeping him from despair.

So, rather than do the logical thing, she stayed in that painful position until her whole body began to shake. 

Goldfish exercised the 4 partially functioning cells of his brain and pulled her closer so as to share body heat, since he still thought that she was cold- a ruse that a brain dead monkey could have seen through. 

As if someone had turned on a hormone faucet in her body, Emo-Girl felt the historic and thrilling moment of their first passionate kiss rising up inside her.

His lips were only inches away. 

As if he felt her hormone fountain spilling onto him, he turned his head toward hers and...

Emo-Girl balked. She didn't know how to kiss someone.

Short circuited by this sudden wash of confusion, she panicked and did the first thing she could think of to avoid a prodigious social catastrophe that would wipe out her dignity and self-esteem in the same blow:

She pressed her cheek against his instead.

Even though the initial crisis was averted, the desire to passionately exchange saliva still stewed in the back of her mind, dancing on her other thoughts like an Irish Stepper on PCP. 

Trying a second time, she slowly readjusted her head until their lips were nearly touching, since, much like asking his name, asking to kiss him was completely beyond her capacity. 

Both sensing each other's desires, they turned their heads into one another's like two rolling pins crushing a plate of dough and they shared their first kiss.

Emo Girl was too dazed by the shock of being kissed to realize that it was the most disappointing moment in her 18 years of life. 

It was wet, slobbery and unsavory, but because it was her first kiss and she was convinced she had found the man of her dreams, she denied it and pretended it was the most amazing thing since Ziplock bags filled with cornstarch and water.

After concluding their messy face stamping, they paused to assess the situation between them, unsure of how to proceed.

Goldfish: So, I guess we're dating now.

Kate: I guess we must be. I don't know.

Goldfish: I mean, we did just kiss and everything...

Kate: Yeah, I think we're dating now.

And so it was sealed. This couple was now connected by the bond of an awkward kiss with the witness of 30+ monks.

Nothing could go wrong. 

Goldfish left for home hours later since he had to get back before his morning shift the next day. (If it wasn't mentioned before, Goldfish was not in school nor did he have the desire to go back.)

Five days later, after thinking on her feelings for Goldfish and being mentally ransacked by a jealous psychopath who still had no mate, Emo-Girl had come to the conclusion that Goldfish was not up to her standards. 

Surprise.

She called him on a Friday, before her final performance of Macbeth. She was in hysterics even before she picked up the phone, since she had never broken up with someone before.

Her feelings were synonymous to this:

Clearly her woes were too great to bear.

Tucked away in a bathroom at the public eatery on campus, she dialed the number of her doom and raised the instrument of death to her ear. 

As it rang, despair edged into her mind. She felt like she what she was about to do was the equivalent to feeding a child to a pack of rabid marmosets. 

But luckily she had her trusty psychopath and her future roommate, Gwin, there to give her support as she called. 

The conversation followed similarly to this:

Goldfish: Hello?

Kate: Goldfish,I'msorrybutwe'renotworkingoutandI'msorryand-IwishIdidn'thavetodothisandI'msosososorryPleaseforgivemeInevermeanttohurtyou-IjustthoughtthatIknewwhatIwantedandI'msososorry! -hysterical babbling-

Goldfish: Wha-... what? No. Please don't. 

Kate: I'm sorry. This just isn't working. -more hysteria-

Goldfish: -getting choked up- But, you're the only one who keeps me from smoking... I need you.

Kate: I expect you to not do that for your own sake. I'm so sorry, but I have to go.

Goldfish: But... Okay.

She snapped the bearer of misfortune shut and burst into anime-class tears, throwing herself on the necks of her friend Gwin and her psychopath, losing the function of her legs for a couple moments. 

She was able to compose herself enough to kill the mother and son one last time. 

After the trauma had subsided enough that she could see normally, Emo-Girl felt better about her life and her outlook.

Little did she know, her luck with men would not improve.

And thus concludes the first portion of The Not So Tragic Love Life of Kate Awkward.

Peace off.