Gabrielle, Number Seven. Every Now and Then, I Still Sigh.

(Previous Story: Jaime, Number Six.)

Okay, this was one where I admit the failure was on my part. I think I tried way too hard. That, and I probably wasn't confident enough.

I worked at my job at University X, along with about 20 or so other students in one of the administration offices. I really enjoyed my co-workers, as their rather geeky personalities were totally compatible with mine. We liked similar shows, similar video games, similar movies... and so on.

There was a woman who worked in the same office complex. I'd run-into her from time to time while at work. She worked in a cubicle down the hall from me. Her name was Gabrielle. She was of Italian extraction, and I kind of had my eye on her. Most of my co-workers were computer geeks... well, okay, I was one too. In fact, I was kind of one of the 'head geeks' of the office, if that makes any sense. It doesn't bode well for your reputation when women hear that you're the 'head geek'.

How can you tell if he's the 'head geek'? He's got dirt on his knees. *ba-doom-BOOM!*

Ugh, that's terrible.

(If you don't have a dirty-enough mind to get the joke, here's an explanation.)

As for Gabrielle's looks... okay, she wasn't the best-looking woman in the world. On looks alone, maybe she was a 5.5. She was skinny and her teeth were slightly crooked.

My brother met her once, and quietly said to me "You know, she kind of looks like a penis with arms."

"Everything looks like a penis to you." I grinned. "Wishful thinking?"

But it was her personality that really got me. I thought her personality was awesome. She was smart, career-oriented, self-confident. She was interested in art, literature and world affairs. Factoring-in her personality, it made her about a 7.5 in my eyes. I don't know what it was initially, but she had that ineffable je ne sais quoi about her that made me instantly hooked.

One Day, I Get Really Confident All of a Sudden

I was about to end my shift. I see her in the hallway, and it was obvious that she had just ended her shift too. Feeling oddly bold, I decided to ask her out.

"Hi, I'm about to go to lunch. Care to join me?"

"Sure."

Wow, that was easy. Refreshingly so.

Actually, I've had my eye on her for a while. Up until now, I'd been too timid to say anything to her. We go-out to the university's food-court. She's a psych major, and I have a few pre-made questions on the topic, which she eagerly answers. I brag about all my academic achievements, but I do it in an incidental, 'not bragging' kind of way. We have a pizza. It turns-out that she's from out of town and lives by herself off-campus. Her parents are clear on the other side of the state.

When the bill comes, I look in my wallet- oops. They don't accept credit cards here, and I'm a few dollars short.

I look at her. Boy, this is embarrassing. Crap.

"I'm sorry to say this, but they don't accept credit cards here, and I'm a few dollars short..."

"No problem." She hands me some money. I'm aghast at myself.

Way to make a first impression, chuckles.

"I'm sorry about this. I'll tell you what? I'll make this up to you by taking you to dinner this weekend? What do you say?"

She smiles and relents. I have a date this weekend. (Note: this was before I adopted the idea of women making an effort to pay on a date.)

The Date

That week was very unusual: Clinton's impeachment hullabaloo was in full swing and the U.S. Air Force was bombing Iraq for Operation Desert Fox. Naturally, this made for interesting dinnertime conversation and 'Wag the Dog' jokes. She avidly follows world-affairs and we have some neat discussions on U.S. foreign policy.

The restaurant was one of my favorite bistros; she'd never been there before... in fact, she said that she didn't know how I did it, but I'd read her mind when she knew exactly what sort of restaurant she liked. (Wow, what a lucky coincidence.) Her parents immigrated from Italy in the 1970s, but she was born in the U.S. She spoke near-fluent Italian, as a result. I find it so attractive when a woman speaks a foreign language. Or more than one, even.

I also find-out that she also had a new cappuccino machine. I mention that I love a good cappuccino and she asks if I'd like to have coffee at her apartment. Wow, that's nice of her. I eagerly accept.

We drive back to her apartment, I walk-in. It's small, but pretty nice. As she turns-on the coffee machine, I scan her bookshelf. Within minutes, I hear her machine start to burble. I noticed, as she opened her freezer, I see a pint of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream. I made a mental note: that might be her favorite kind. I also notice on her computer-desk, she has a book laying-out in full view. Best of Edgar Alan Poe.

"Poe?" I beam. I turn to face her in the kitchen "I love it when a woman reads Poe!"

"Oh, I was just reading it casually." She said. I get a smile thinking of some of his creepier works. Tell-Tale Heart. The Raven...

"Do you want any flavor in your coffee?" She asks.

"Can you mix-in a Cask of Amontillado?" I grin. "Nah, better make it half a cask." She smiles politely.

Jeez, you're a dork.

We sit-down and sip coffee. We have a reasonably intelligent conversation. Time flies. Before I know it, I glance at my watch. It's getting a little late. I don't know what it was, but I just had to kiss her. During a lull in the conversation, I build-up enough confidence. I lean-forward and kiss her lips.

To my surprise, she smiled. She kissed me back.

"Why did you kiss me?" She asked.

"I couldn't help it. You are so pretty. Do a lot of people tell you that?" I ask.

"How did you get so sweet?" She gushes. I feel a shiver of pure pleasure run-down my spine. I dunno, something about the way she said that just made my spirit soar.

We kiss a little bit more.

We lie-down on her couch, still kissing. Actually, time flies pretty quick. It's getting really late. This feels great. But, at the same time, I want her to know that I'm not merely after sex. I want her to know that I like her for her.

"I want you to know, I never have sex on the first date." Okay, obviously that was a white lie... but from now on, it's going to be true.

"What makes you think that I was going to have sex with you?" She asks.

Oops. Didn't see that question coming.

"Oh, it's just... " I stammered. "I... I want you to know that... I'm not after sex. Er, well, I mean, that's not my primary goal in life. Er... I mean, I respect you very much and I don't want you to think that it's all I'm interested in. Do you know what I mean? I'll just shut-up."

"It's getting late." She laughs.

"No problem." We get-up and she unlocks the door for me. Before she closes it, I look at her. "Thank you. You've made my day. I'd really like to go-out again, soon." I give her a goodbye kiss.

Time Continues to Pass...

The next weekend, we have a second date. Afterwards, we go to coffee. Wow, I just get lit-up talking to her.

I tell her that I have to leave town for an academic conference (which I do). She hopes that I have a good time, and asks me to call her while I'm gone.

The conference lasts about four days. In the meantime, I call Gabrielle, but I leave a message on her answering machine. I hope that she'll call my hotel room, but I can understand if she doesn't want to pay the long-distance charges. I don't hear from her or get a chance to speak to her that week. I think I'm developing a major crush on her; I'd really love to hear her voice.

After the conference, I come-back home, and as soon as I get to my phone, I give Gabrielle a call.

"Hi, I haven't heard from you in a while. Are you really busy?"

"Ohh.. I'm sorry I didn't call you... I've been really sick..." She certainly sounds sick. I start feeling sympathetic.

"Oh, I had no idea... are you okay?"

"It's my throat. It's really sore. I'm going to see a doctor tomorrow. I feel terrible. I think I'm really sick. I've been in class feeling like this all week."

"What? You haven't taken time-off?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Have you eaten anything yet?"

"No..."

Oh, honey, you need to take care of yourself.

"Gaby, get into bed. I'm coming over to take care of you." I hang-up. I wanted to make her feel better. Oh boy, I really want to show her what a great guy I am. I really want her to feel like the luckiest gal on the planet. I put-on my coat and drive-over with a can of soup and a pint of Cherry Garcia ice cream.

I ring the doorbell, and she answers; she certainly looks under the weather and is dressed in a flannel robe. I give her a peck on the forehead.

"Get into bed. I'll be in to see you in a few minutes." I say sternly.

"No, don't worry. I can manage."

"Gaby, no, I want you to lie-down. You had no rest today, and I'm going to take care of you."

She slinks-off to bed, and I head right for the kitchen. I make her a bowl of soup and deliver it to her on a tray.

"NiceGuy, I feel awful!" She moans. "My throat is killing me! I can't sleep or concentrate on work..."

"That's why I came-over. And if you want to take the day off from class tomorrow, I'll go collect your assignments for you. Don't worry about work, just stay in bed. I brought-over some Cherry Garcia for you, too in case you wanted to swallow something cold. Do you want me to get you anything special tonight? Just name it, and I'll get it for you."

She shakes her head, sips her soup and looks at me with a look of pure gratefulness in her eyes.

"How did you get so sweet!?" She gushes. I feel a massive wave of pleasure wave over me. Yes, that was precisely the response I wanted. I put my arms around her and cuddle her.

"Gaby, I'm going to take such good care of you."

"Hold me?" She whimpers. And I did.

On The Way Home

I think that went rippingly well. I smile to myself. Yes, I got a lot of pleasure out of doing what I did. I wanted her to feel special. How did I get so sweet? Oh, hearing her say that felt like heaven! Wow, I wanted to make her feel like she was the most treasured woman on the planet. I got a real jolt of pleasure from making her happy. She was all on her own in a faraway city with no one to care for her; I was really glad to get points for doing something nice.

You know... at the same time, I feel a little intimidated around her. I mean, she's obviously an independent, damn smart woman with high expectations and high standards. She could get bored of me pretty quickly... I mean an 'independent woman' is a woman who doesn't need you, right? What happens if I screw-up? What happens if she all of a sudden gets tired of me? Oh, dear. I started to worry.

No, no, no. Don't worry, just be your sweet self and everything will just be fine.

After the Next Date

She gets better in about a week, and I take her to dinner. I love our conversations. Boy, she's got a big brain; I like that in a woman. After dinner, we come back to her place and watch X-Files. The episode sucks. In fact, it was the episode where Mulder switches brains with a Man-In-Black. Ugh, what are they thinking? 'Hey, let's do a remake of Freaky Friday!'

After seeing X-Files, now I finally know why I like Gabrielle's personality! She's a lot like Scully! Scully is 'the thinking man's crumpet' as a British magazine once put it. Maybe a bit cold at the outset, but Scully hints that can be quite warm when you get on her nice side. I've always wanted to date a woman like Scully.

Afterwards, we kiss. She puts-on some music and turns-down the lights. She makes me feel electrified.

Between kissing, we trade some light, cheeky conversation.

"I'm glad I've gotten to know you. And... when I first talked to you, I was kind of afraid at work that you heard I was a big geek or something."

She grinned. "Actually, you're one of the less-geeky guys working there." I chuckle. Kind of a nice compliment. I don't mind being called a geek, so long as it's established I'm not much of one.

The make-out starts to increase in intensity. Our bodies start to heat-up. I start to slowly work my hands under her bra. We start peeling-off each others' clothes.

"Come on." She gets-up, takes my hand and leads me into her bedroom.

After We- Well... You Know.

We lay next to each other. I look at her; I say in my most sincere voice: "Thank you." I put my arm across her chest and kiss her cheek.

"You don't have to thank me. You know, for a guy your size, you actually have a surprisingly large penis."

"Wha? Oh... why... thank you." I stammer. "I... I haven't really compared... it... to anyone else's, so I don't know." My, my. How blunt of her. In fact, I would later find-out that she was habitually a blunt person. "I love your body. I think you're so gorgeous and you are in such good shape."

"I bet you say that to all the girls. How many women have you slept with?"

"Me? Well... um, I don't know if I should tell you. I don't want to scare you. Um... before you, six. Is that bad?"

"Actually, no, that's good. Oh, I'm kind of embarrassed now. For me, you're the ninth. Some of them, I look back and say 'what was I thinking??'"

It didn't matter to me, though. She was with me now.

"I promise I won't go psycho on you. I'm very trainable in bed, if you know what I mean. You can teach me to do it exactly as you like it." I put my hand on her cheek. "Hon, I'm going to be so good to you." I whisper. I stay the night, and we part the next morning.

Our Sex Life

As time went-on, I found that she was more than a little kinky. She had a drawer full of sex-toys. She liked being spanked. I wasn't really comfortable hitting someone. One time, we were in bed. She asked to be spanked like a naughty child, I took her over my lap and gently tapped her butt.

"No, hit me harder!" She insisted.

"Um... bad girl!" Tap.

"NiceGuy, come on!"

"Okay..." I grimaced. I don't want to hurt you... "Naughty girl!" Whap! "For not doing..." Whap! "...your homework!" Whap!

"OooOOOOoohh!!!" She shivered and curled-up close to me with her eyes closed and a huge smile on her face... She loved it. I didn't like hitting her. I mean, no disrespect if you're into that sort of thing, it's just not my cup of tea.

She also liked being tied-up. I didn't like tying-up someone; I like having a woman's arms around me. She liked it doggy-style, I liked being face-to-face.

I guess sexually, we weren't all that compatible. But, I liked her for way more than just sex.

Her Mom Comes to Visit

A few weeks later, it turns-out her mom came to visit her from out of town.

"You don't mind if I spend the weekend showing my mom around town, do you?" She asks me.

"Oh, not at all. Don't worry." No date for us, that's okay though.

But at the office that weekend (yes, I was working weekends), I notice Gabrielle and an older woman in the office. It must be her mom. I walk-by.

"Hi." I say.

"Hi, I'm just showing my mom around the office." Gabrielle says. I shake hands with her.

"Busy day today. You know... Urgh!" I ball-up my fists and grimace for half a second. "Hope you have fun this weekend." I head back to the my workspace.

"See yas." She says.

I look-back, her mom looks at me. I hear her mom saying something to Gabrielle in Italian. Gaby smiles in response.

On Monday, after her mom leaves, I give her a call. We talk.

"You know what my mom said about you when you walked-away? She said that you're cute."

"Really?" I smile.

"Well, I didn't tell her about us. I mean... what am I supposed to say? 'This is the guy I'm having sex with'?" She laughs.

"It's nice to be complimented, though. I think your mom might like me if she were to get to know me, perhaps." Hmm, don't women consider it a bad sign when her mom likes you? 'If mom likes him, there must be something wrong with him...'?

That weekend, we go to a nightclub. I'm so happy being around Gabrielle. I'm starting to like her a lot. I'm out of place in a nightclub as I can't dance, but I love being with her so.

Happy Birfday!!

Her birthday happens to come-around two weeks later. I've been looking forward to this occasion. I want to give her a great birthday surprise. I just want to make her smile. You know, I think that a lot of women really appreciate it when their boyfriend goes all-out for their birthday... well, I'm going to go all-out! Well, um, I'm a student with limited means, but I'll try to do what I can to make her birthday special.

I go-out and get her a dozen long-stem Ecuadorian roses. (Well, I didn't SELECT Ecuadorian roses by name per sé, they happened to be from Ecuador.) I also bought her a book that I thought she might like, and I made arrangements to take her out to dinner at her favorite sushi place.

I come to her door with her presents in my arms. I can't wait to see the look on her face!

She opens the door.

"Hi! Happy birthday!" I give her the flowers.

"Come in!" She beams broadly. Ooh, seeing her smile was worth it!

I give her the present; she unwraps it.

"The Nitpickers' Guide to the X-Files?" She asks, in semi-disbelief. Er, maybe in hindsight, that wasn't a great gift? Ugh, maybe I should've gotten her something else?

"Well, I looked for a book to get you, but I just didn't know what you might like... Um... and I remember that's what we were watching our second date. I really had no idea what book to get, but maybe you might like this? It's a little funny on certain episodes. Well... I guess it's the thought that counts."

"Thank you. It's very thoughtful of you to do this for me." She smiled sweetly. Well, maybe it wasn't the best present in the world, but I truly had no idea what to get her.

"Ready to go out?" And she is.

We drive to the Heian Sushi Bar.

Should I have gotten her roses? That's a mighty strong statement.

In hindsight, I think I probably acted a little silly at dinner. I was thrilled to be with her; I was trying to be fun, but I probably just seemed dorky. My sense of humor can seem kind of wierd sometimes. I was also very critically examining my behavior; I was pretty sure that she was going to find something wrong with me at any given moment. For instance: at one point, she asked me to drink a shot of sake; I'm not a fan of sake as I think it smells vile and feels painful on the way down.

But, I swallow it and make a pained expression.

"Poom!" I grunt and clutch the bridge of my nose. It was like being hit on the head with a rubber truncheon. The instant I made that noise, I started obsessing over the dorkiness of my actions.

Poom?! Where in hell did that noise come from? What am I, a moron? What kind of dumb hobbledehoy says 'Poom'?! I instantly regretted making that noise. Indeed, I think she was looking at me like I just threw a lemon meringue pie in my own face. Or maybe it's just me being paranoid? Yikes, I'm far too scared of screwing-up. Calm-down, man.

I look at her. God, you know, she wasn't drop-dead pretty but every time I see her she just gets more and more attractive. I wanted her to find me as physically attractive as I was finding her.

"Gaby, do you think I'm attractive?" I asked her.

"Well..." She paused. She looked me up and down. "You have the potential to be attractive..."

Oh. Thanks. But at least she was honest, I'll give her that.

I bring her back home late, and she has to wake-up the next morning... so I won't be spending the night. I stand in her doorway. I give her a kiss on the lips. I looked down, into her eyes.

"Gaby? I want you to know... except for you, there are no other women in my life now. I'm strictly a one-woman-at-a-time type of guy. I guess... do you know what I'm saying?"

She smiles and nods. "I understand. Good night. Thank you for taking me out."

I head-home. I smile to myself. Wow, I felt good telling her the way I felt. I just wanted to be a great guy for her.

You Don't Need That Heart Anymore, Do You?? Rip!

The next day, I get an email from Gaby.

>"Dear NiceGuy, I know this is bad timing and everything but I think we might be a bit too different for this to work. I've been thinking about this for a while now; you're a very sweet person, but I think it wasn't meant to be..."

I stopped reading. It wasn't meant to be? But... but... I wanted it so badly! She was smart and fun and... I was so excited to be around her! I thought it was meant to be! And I get this the day after I take her out for her birthday!! Yeah, that is really freaking bad timing! My heart hurt. In fact, you remember the scene in "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom" where the guy clutches Dr. Jones' chest, chanting 'Karima! Karimaaaaa!' It felt slightly less bad than that, but not by much.

Last night, I bet she was looking at me, thinking to herself: 'How am I going to break this to him? I know, I'll do it via email! The second coldest, most detached method after the Post-It Note!! I'm so brilliant! I can totally purée his feelings without ever getting any guilt that might come from seeing his reaction!'

I called her. Answering machine. Doesn't she have call waiting? Crap. If she didn't want to hear from me, she could guarantee that she wouldn't. And I don't want to leave whiny, pathetic-sounding messages on her machine, I know she'd hate that.

So, I wrote a long email reply. In fact, I don't really remember much of it... but the gist of it was essentially me saying "very well, I'll respect your decision... but I'm extremely disappointed and sad because I really did like you, because you have so many qualities that I find attractive. I appreciated your inner beauty. I mean, I came over when you were sick and did my best to take care of you- I don't do that for just anybody. I was really hoping you were turning-in to the girlfriend I've always wanted, and I really wanted to be someone special for you... etc. etc. etc. etc." I just kept going on and on.

Gee, I'm pathetic. I'm an emotional cripple. I've probably made her think I'm totally unworthy for her. I started to wonder. Am I just too damn nice sometimes? What was wrong with me? How wasn't I good enough for her?

I had to know.

Post-Script

Some days later, I ran-into her in the office copier-room. There was no one else around, so I quietly sidled-up to her.

"Um... hi?"

"Hi." She didn't sound too pleased to see me.

"Gaby, I have to ask you a question..." Maybe I sounded a bit too whiny when I asked this.

"What, is this a 'what's wrong with me' thing?" Her voice sounded a little acidic. I was a little surprised. How the hell did she know that's exactly what I was going to ask? Maybe I should re-word my question.

"Um... not exactly. I mean... I mean, I really wanted to make you happy. I wanted to be the best boyfriend you've ever had. I just need to know: what did I do wrong?"

She sighed and turned to look at me.

"NiceGuy... for your next relationship, just remember: you can't force someone to love you."

Oh. That explains it. Yeah, I guess I tried way too hard.

Post-Post-Script

I was in the hallway outside the office. It was about a month after Gabrielle sent me her email-of-death. After I got a job offer previous to graduation, I'd sent her one or two emails saying how happy I was that I got a job with a good company and how much I'm looking forward to getting my graduate degree. You know, the kind of emails that 'just friends' send to each other... zero responses from her. Yeesh, sor-ry for trying to keep in touch. After sending two emails and getting no replies: I get the hint. I don't want to be a pest.

In the hall, I'm jabbering about trivial stuff with a male co-worker, as I do on any normal day between shifts. Then, Gaby walks-down the hall towards us; towards the restroom actually. I notice her, and I turn to look at her as she goes by. I feel the familiar pang of unrequited affection. The look she gave me back... it was a sort of look that indicated she was trying to look nonchalant... yet, there was an enigmatic component to it was well. It wasn't a hostile look; it was semi-friendly. It was a kind of knowing gaze. A sort of "I'd like to keep this our little secret" look. Or that's how I interpreted it.

She walks past. My male co-worker looks after her and grins.

"Chuh-CHING!" He says after she's out of earshot. He gestures by pumping his arm-back.

I half smile.

"She's a very nice girl."

In hindsight, I could've said something crude like: "Oh yeah, she and I did tha nastayyyyy bump-n-grind with spanks and leather straps, dude!!" And gotten a high-five, and perhaps started a rumor around the office... but I didn't. I decided to use discretion. I shan't besmirch Gaby's reputation.

I am, after all, a public gentleman.

Post-Post-Post Script: (02/13/02) Oh, Gaby and I had communicated through email recently... she even apologized and admitted that she terminated our relationship in a shabby manner because of her own personal issues at the time(!) She also invited me to see her sometime- while casually mentioning that she has a new boyfriend who 'reminds me of you, in some ways', according to her. Needless to say, I opted not to meet-up with her... Frankly, I have far more fulfilling things to do with my time.

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This entire series lacks one part,
But the eighth tale I dare not impart,
For Number Eight fills me with dread.
T'was Lying Whorebag- enough said.
But instead, get a glass of wine and sally-forth to Number Nine.

"...once one of the world's great sexes." -- Garrison Keillor, on men.

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