When I ask you to picture a crossing guard what do you see? I’m sure you, just as everyone I have asked, pictures this old white hair lady somewhat resembling your grandmother or some cliche version of her. That’s exactly how I pictured them to be too. In fact that’s the only way I have ever seen them before. 

I have always assumed it was a job for some old geezer that wanted to piss off their kids by refusing to retire from work and settled for part time crossing guard. A fulfilling job nonetheless, one that anyone would want their grandmother to work. I was just unaware that you didn’t need to be over sixty five and retired to be a crossing guard.

This elementary school down the street from me had the first and only attractive girl crossing kids across the street. Maybe it was because she wasn’t an old lady stopping traffic for the kids to cross the street and was the first crossing attendant that made me look twice.

I had to scratch my eyes, look around, and make sure I wasn’t the only one seeing this. When I opened my eyes and saw nothing but Dads and older guys, cousins, or siblings picking up the kids from school. There wasn’t a single mom in sight. It was like this Twilight Zone where the wives stayed in the cars while the husbands went to school to get their kids.

Only this time they guys were taking their time at the pick up, letting their kids play on the playground with their friends until they were good and ready to go home. Pro tip, if you want the dads to be more present with the kids at school, hire a crossing guard that is covered in gray hair and that wears leggings. It seems to do the trick.

People go away to relax. That was exactly what I had intended to do when I planned to go up to Maine. The itinerary consisted of nothing but great times with some good company simply relaxing together. There were trails to hike, beers to drink, and smores to roast on the campfire for us all weekend long. I was going away to find that euphoria.

I found it instantly. Unpacking wasn’t even the first thing we wanted to do. We saw the waterfall in front of the house and it became our first priority. We stepped over stick bugs, ants, and grasshoppers, careful not to step on them eagerly racing to dip our feet in the fresh waterfall. Me being the caboose felt like I was the one that had to mark our territory with these bugs and gave one of them a piece of my mind. I told them that this was our world now and he was just living in it and proceeded on to the waterfall.

It was beautiful. There we were standing at the foot of a waterfall with no one around us. We were miles from anyone that lived nearby and felt like we had our own little section of Maine all to ourselves. Neither of us could speak, neither of us wanted to, the only sound we heard was the calming sound of the water crashing onto itself. We were floating on cloud nine together and we hadn’t even unpacked yet.

Before we spent the rest of our night sitting by the waterfall we figured we should unpack. I led the way back out, meeting my ole little Katydid back on the street after I had just put him in his place. With my friend behind me I figured it was a chance to stand my ground to this bug and officially claim our territory. I circled him once, talking smack to him the entire time, letting him know I was about it, you know.

I looked away for a second, gloating to my friend about how he didn’t want any of this smoke, still taunting him as I turned back to face him. I had no idea these things could understand English. As soon as I crossed the line with my words, saying something about his mother, this leaf looking bug thing jumped on my leg evading my kick of self defense causing me to kick myself in the calf.

I took that personally. There was no way I was going to be humiliated by a freaking insect like that. I stood my ground to face him straight up, ready to stomp his brains in. Just when I thought I had him lined up he sprung from the ground again this time landing on my face. I think he just did that to piss on me and hop off. I don’t know if bugs can pee, but my cheek was wet after he embarrassed me like that.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran to the house and never went down to the river again that weekend. It was clearly that bug’s territory and I wasn’t capable of fighting him for it. He embarrassed me. It was like he was this Bruce Lee insect of Maine. Even with me being a human I didn’t stand a chance against him. That fucking thing scared me so much he had me made me running back to the house like a little bitch. I’m just happy there isn’t any video proof of it.

She is the most attractive girl I have ever seen. She is truly beautiful. I fell in love with her the first moment I saw her and there was no looking back. The more I got to know her the deeper and deeper I fell. One date turned to three and then before we knew it we were sharing the same bed, cooking dinner for each other, falling in love right before our eyes.

She has been glowing since we first met her and it has been impossible for me to ignore. She has only seemed to shine brighter each and everyday since. Now she’s a thousand miles away and I know I can’t be the only one that sees her shining. I know there’s people out looking to steal her attention just as I did to her. Some maybe want to steal it from her just a night while others maybe want it for the rest of their life. Regardless of how it’s twisted it kills me.

I know I can’t be the only one who takes you home. She’s in a class of her own, elegantly stunning from head to toe. Her hair always looks like it’s been done by God’s best angels. Her nails are always uniquely done, setting trends each time. I haven’t seen anyone else that knows precisely, methodically, how to apply their make up without taking away from their true beauty the way she does. It is art in it’s purest form. Even better to see her when she’s finished.

I can’t be the only one who sees it. I know there out there all over her. Hell I can never take my hands off of her. I can only impinge what it’s like when she’s out there a thousand miles from me. I know I haven’t been the only one that knows her. I know she’s met some other people before we found our way to each other. That’s life, but we’re here now. I know I can’t be the only one looking to steal your attention. I just want to the be the one who has all of your attention.

I want to be the only one she always thinks about. The only one she wants to be with. Because she is the only one I want. I don’t want to go another second of my day without thinking about her. If I won’t ever be the only one to take you home then tell me now. I will forever love you for what we had, what we found, and the fun we had. But if there’s a slight chance she thinks I can be the only one for her just as I know she is the only one for me, then let’s buy that ticket and take the ride together. I know I can’t be the only one that wants your attention, I just want to be the only one you give it all too.

There’s no rules to any of this. There’s no boxes to check off or any time frame on how long it takes us to get things done. All we have are the smiles we create. It’s all about making the most of our days, enjoying them as they come, before they inevitably come to an end. All we’re supposed to be is happy, but what is happiness?

Is it a job that pays the bills? Is it having someone waiting for you when you get home? Is it about having a house to live in, a nice car to show off, or a family you can call your own? Who’s to say that’s what it’s all about? Who says we’re supposed to have our fun and then settle down when we’re done and buy a house to start a family?

What if there are other ways to be happy? What if all we want to do is live a life we can hang our hats on? What if our happiness wasn’t measured by the number in our bank account but by the amount of smiles we have in our lives? Who would be the happiest people then?

There’s no right or wrong way to any of this. It’ all subjective. There’s a million different ways to make a living in this world. As long as we are paying our bills it really doesn’t matter how we live our lives. Aside from that nothing else really matters. All that matters is that we end each of our days happy with the bed we’ve made.

For some maybe it’s having a bigger house than your neighbors. Others want that fancy FU car while there are some people that would rather be careless sleeping in their parents basement while they save their money to travel and explore the world for everything it has to offer. Who’s to say there’s a right way to do any of this?

All we’re supposed to do is to enjoy our days as they come, until our time inevitably comes.

There isn’t anyone out there that I truly hate. Yeah I may not like everyone, but I can’t think of anyone that’s out there calling me their enemy or I’m calling my foe. I like to think I’ve done a decent enough of a job thus far with my life staying on good terms with everyone I’ve met that I don’t have any bad terms to worry about with anyone. At least I don’t think so. I mean standing on a ledge, gun to my brain, if I had to pick someone I absolutely despise, there would only be two people I could name. Which is perfect because there’s no way I’ll ever see them again.

The only person that even knows about these personal vendettas of mine is my best friend. I’m not much of a fan of this one kid strictly because of playing sports with him growing up. We would always clash, one upping each other every way we could, and naturally hated each other. And honestly, subconsciously still do. We just haven’t crossed paths since eighth grade so I haven’t been too worried about him anymore.

The only other person that I truly loathe for no reason is this one guy I’ve honestly never met a day before in my life. I was dating this girl one time and he seemed to be lurking as my shadow everywhere I went with her. There was this time we had our first real fight between us and I’m sure you can guess it, he was there for her immediately. Once I wasn’t in school anymore he was the guy meeting her at her locker everyday after school not me. He would do anything he could to be with her while I wasn’t there. There’s no way I could like him.

And that’s exactly when I found out who my best friend was. All that stuff went down back in middle school and in high school. Just recently my buddy was telling me how he saw one of those dude’s car in the driveway near his house, my shadow guy actually, and promptly went into his house to get some of the fresh deli in his fridge.

He ripped off a few slices of cheese from the bag, walked across the street in the middle of the night, and slapped on two slices of cheese onto this guy’s car. He didn’t do it for any personal grudge, he did it for me. He said one of the cheeses was for me and the other one was for him. He did it for absolutely no reason at all other than the sheer fact of me not liking this guy. My buddy hated him for me and stood in my corner. A real friend.

That day solidified him as my best friend. I have never had anyone stand with me as sternly as he has with me… time and time again. I don’t deserve a friend like him. It was only by chance and by the way of being sorted alphabetically by our last names in high school that we became best friends. A best friend that I never thought I would have. Thank you.

I had been talking to this one girl for a couple weeks at this point. It was long enough to where she finally deemed me cool enough to hangout with. We had only met once at a bar, just quick enough to exchange numbers before I had to leave. I thought it was crazy to actually make plans with me. Next we had to find plans.

Our first idea was a bingo night… that didn’t work. Then she thought we could go axe throwing one night so we made plans. We spent the whole night taking out our frustrations by throwing axes and banter with one another. One of the better dates I had been on truthfully, but just wasn’t something I was feeling.

We kept in touch for the next few days after the date but we just didn’t ignite a spark together. Our conversation dwindled down and became dull. I chalked it up as a lost cause and figured it just was just another night wasted. Our flame faded away before we even had a chance.

We went a few days without talking and it just felt like it was what it was. We gave it a chance and it just didn’t get running. That’s life. Naturally to distract myself from another failed attempt for love, I went back on the dating apps.

One of the first people I stumbled across was someone I never thought I would see again. Right there on my phone was the girl I have always wanted to meet from my apartment. The girl, who I always went to the mailbox at the same time everyday because I saw her there once, hoping I could bump into and see her for more than just walking past me in the hallway. She was right there, only a swipe away.

I swiped on her, went to work to finish my job, and raced back to my phone wondering specifically if she answered me. Seeing her notification on my phone made me smile like a little kid all kitty staring at my phone. I even did a little fist pump to myself at work, unable to contain my excitement.

I messaged her and she messaged me back just as quickly. Before I knew it we had each other’s numbers and were making plans to hangout based off of the spark we both felt overtime we walked by each other in our apartment. As I was messaging the girl I have been dreaming about, the girl from the axe throwing sent me the first message.

After three days of asking, she was wondering if I wanted to go to a concert that night with her. I couldn’t answer her right away, There was something bigger in the equation now that I had to solve. I finally struck my chance with this girl. I wanted to give it a real try.

The girl of my dreams texted me back and just like that we were off. It wasn’t small talk, we were vibing with each other. Out of the blue, just simply based off of the fire we had burning between us, she asked me if I wanted to go see a concert with her. The same concert that the other girl was going to see.

Just as she told the other girl, I said I couldn’t make it. As much as I wanted to sprint to the dance floor with her and get lost together, it wasn’t the place. The other girl would be there. I actually cared about this girl. A girl I have always craved to see again. I’m not the type of guy to talk to two girls at once. Nor am I the type of guy to talk to two girls at a one party. Nor am I the type of guy to talk to any girl at the party. So I figured my best move for everyone was for me to not show up, and make plans with the girl I have been dreaming about and another night.

She caught me in the midst of being a fuck boy, I couldn’t let me coming out with you and accidentally running into a girl I lied to, a girl I went out with a few weeks ago, be my first impression. As much as I wanted to get laid, maybe that I might of had two chances, I knew immediately when I saw her in the hallways that this was something real. I couldn’t ruin it for the sake of someone’s company for one night. I’d rather wake up to the love of my life than fall asleep next to someone who will leave in the morning. I just never believed that something as little as seeing her in the hallway would flip my entire world upside down.

Everyone has an alter ego. Mine just happens to be named Cornelius and he tends to come out as soon as tequila gets involved. Sometimes it only takes one shot, sometimes it takes three, but once the tequila touches my lips, you better start preparing to spend the rest of the night with Cornelius and not Troy. Cornelius came out to play last Saturday night.

My two buddies and I weren’t supposed to meet our friends for a couple hours. What better way to waste time than sitting on a rooftop bar taking some tequila shots. We only took one shot of tequila but it was enough. Immediately after I had to run to the bathroom to break my seal. Cornelius was waking up.

I was washing my hands and could see it in my eyes Troy was gone. When I got out of the bathroom I saw my buddies were at the bar talking to these girls. I tried to walk by with my head down, letting them have their moment, and meet them at the elevator, but that didn’t happen.

They called me over to them before I had a chance to get away. I didn’t know what the girls they were talking to looked like. I got over there and was completely taken back. They were easily the two most attractive girls in the bar that day. Looking exactly like your typical Italian girls. One of them didn’t turn around to say hi to me while the other one was this little ball of energy I couldn’t ignore her.

I think her seeing a fellow Italian like me naturally made her question how Italian I was. Just as I would have tested them if they didn’t beat me to it. The first test was my name, she asked and I said, “Cornelius, what’s yours?” without hesitation.

She pounced on me, “What kind of Italian name is Cornelius, That’s not your real name right?” I told her it was and she didn’t believe me. “What’s your middle name then?” She didn’t even ask me again what my real name was. Maybe she did believe me, or maybe she just wanted to move onto the next question. Usually no one ever believes that’s my real name. I never thought I would get any further than that.

I told her the truth this time saying my middle name was Paul and her opinion of me didn’t change. “No way you’re not Italian. Those aren’t Italian names.” I was starting to feel a little insulted. I mean I’m not going to argue that Cornelius is an Italian name, but I feel like if you had one look at me, you would guess I was Italian. Then she moved onto the third test, “Okay you’re Italian, so let’s see your chest hair.”

This was the last straw for me, “Look at my neck. My chest hair damn near connects all the way to my beard. I don’t have to show you my chest. My last name is Tartarini. It doesn’t get more Italian than that.” I was beyond offended. Up until that point I thought the people guessing I was Italian was the easiest thing in the world. She crushed my ego and the feelings of not just me but all the Tartarini’s before me.

Maybe she could see the disappointment in my eyes, or maybe she was testing me because she was looking for a purebred Italian but before I walked away she grabbed my arm and said to me, “This is my daughter, she’s a nice little Italian girl.” My mind was thrown in a blender. Was this mom trying to hook me up with her daughter?

This whole time I thought it was two friends hanging out at a bar. I had no idea this girl that was shattering my confidence was a mom. If anything, her talking to me, busting my balls, in hopes of finding a gym, tan, laundry type of guy for her daughter caused me to like them more. I made it far enough, passing all her tests, that she actually wanted to introduce me to her daughter.

Her daughter who I will never see again. Maybe if things went differently, if she wasn’t so cruel and abusive to me, things could have been different. Maybe I may have even gotten their names or maybe even a number instead of walking away despising them. I’m Italian and if you can’t see that from just looking at me, then things will never workout between us. I’m just glad Cornelius was there to handle that one for me.

They say you fall in love three times in your life. The first one is that puppy love high school sweetheart kind, proceded by the hard love that teaches you all those harsh lessons, only to be concluded by that unexpected love, that real thing that you never thought you would ever find. What happens next? Like after you found those three loves?

Is it over for me? Have I walked away from the only three chances I’ll ever have in my life to find that real love? How many times can you walk away from that one thing that can make all of your dreams reality? Am I too self centered? Too Petty? Was it really love? Is there someone else I’m missing or did I miss my chance at finding that everlasting love?

Thinking about it now scares me. It keeps me awake at night thinking that I’ve blown my chance at finding it. I chase the thoughts running around in my head of me living my life alone with no one by my side sleeping in an empty bed. If that’s the karma I have coming for me for walking away from love then I get it. After what I’ve done it would be well deserved for me to spend my life alone.

If that was it for me, if that is all the love I will ever find in my life, at least I’ll be able to die a happy man. I gave it a try. I found love more than once. Not summer flings, or someone to call at night, I find that real thing and each time it has made me the happiest man in the world. Each time I’ve found it has made me a better man. If those are the only times I get to fall in love then I’ll be buried with a smile.

Love is the best drug out there. There isn’t anything that makes you feel rock bottom the way love does, and because of that, there isn’t anything that can take you higher, or make you feel more invincible then love. It’s because of love I’ve been able to find out what happiness truly means.

If these are the only three times I fall in love in my life, then it’s been a life worth living. It’s been a life full of smiles, laughs, tears, and moments I will never be able to forget. It’s because of those times I’ve loved I’m the man I am today. It’s only because of those time’s I fell in love I can die a happy man. At least I tired. “I’d rather have a life of ‘oh wells’ rather than ‘what if’s.’”

Growing up I always thought my house was haunted. I was scared to be home alone, I was scared to shut all the lights off in the room, like I wouldn’t even watch anything scary in my house. I felt like if I gave them any sort of chance or darkness they would surface.

I believe in ghosts and truthfully they scare the shit out of me. Fortunately I haven’t ever seen one with my own eyes but I have seen their work and felt their presence before and that’s all I want to deal with. This shouldn’t be any new information to you,… Ghosts are real. Being back home now, a little bit more mature, hasn’t changed a thing. I’m still terrified of my house.

I’m not sure what it is that has kept them here so long but they’re definitely still here. I came back here and immediately started waking up at three thirty in the morning everyday to what I can only assume is a ghost hovering over me just staring at me. I wake up each morning to the feelings of their presence filling the room. I know they’re out there creeping on me but I just can’t see them.

Which is exactly why I hate being home alone. Hell I even hate being the last one to go to bed. The worst part about my days are when I have to shut all the lights off in the house before I go to bed. As soon as I hit the switches off, I take off in a dead sprint to the front of the house, up the stairs to my room, and into my bed before any of the ghosts has a chance to find me.

I’m twenty six years old and I’m terrified of ghosts. For the guys out there; I’m not a pussy. Ghosts are real, you’re just lucky you haven’t seen them yet. For the girls out there; I can be that guy that kills all the spiders and bugs that come in the house. I just need a girl that is willing to shut the lights off for me each night. Or at least someone that makes enough they’re not worried about paying their electrical bill and keeps the lights on at night. By all means I’m cool with just closing the door. It gives me a little of a night light to help me sleep.

Us humans have technically been here for almost five million years ago. The first homo sapiens however weren’t walking this earth until about two hundred thousand yeas ago. North America itself has only been home to humans for close to twenty thousand years. All I’m stating is that, as a whole, we’ve been breathing the air out of this planet for centuries.

We’ve been here that long right, but yet here we are, whatever amount of years later, still dealing with things like allergies. Isn’t that weird? It’s just baffling to me that after years of evolution and natural selection, and people reproducing new babies stronger than they the generation before, and we’re still out here struggling with allergies. It’s just perplexing.

Here we are with people going about our lives and some of us are still allergic to peanut butter. Something we’ve been eating for damn near four thousand years. Strawberries, pollen, cats, dogs, fucking grass we’re allergic to everything… Us humans are still carrying around epipens just in case someone touched a wrong plant before we made contact with them. All these things that have been around with us for thousands of years, breathing the same air as us, evidently is our kryptonite.

As for me, I’m not allergic to any of that. My parents blessed me with some superior genes. My body has been damn near impenetrable against all foods, animals, and plants. Well most that is, except for one… that Mary Jane. I have never been tested for it, I’m not sure how one would get tested for it, but I don’t think a scratch test would do it. Just trust me when I say I’m allergic to it.

Each time I smoke I sneeze ridiculously. I blow my nose more times and grosser than someone who just sorting a line of pollen while being allergic to pollen would do. My eyes get watery, my skin gets blotchy red, and my face was hotter than a stove top. There’s no doubt that I’m allergic to the weed. I’m just fortunate that that’s the only thing I’m allergic to. I guess for me it’s a little ironically unfortunate that smoking the weed is the only thing I’m allergic to.

I’m not really a cologne guy. I haven’t worn any sort of that spray stuff since I was in high school playing fifty in the mornings. All I do is apply my deodorant in the morning and let it just ride out. If my natural stench comes out then it comes out. I’m Italian, all I’m going to smell like is garlic and onions and if you use the bathroom after maybe some asparagus.

When I’m out in public all I ever smell like is sex, alcohol, and weed. Nothing has had more precedence of my smell than the cannibas. You’ll only smell the others if you get close enough to me but you’ll smell that Mary Jane as soon as I walk in the front door.

It’s completely arrogant of me to be stinking up every place I step inside. No one wants to smell that shit while they’re inside a restaurant eating their dinner. I get it, it’s rude, but sometimes it does work out in my favor. Before I go into any restaurant to pick up my food for take out I always take one more hit of that devil’s lettuce ahead of going inside.

I’m always going to be an asshole that walks into the restaurant, reeking up the place, ruining everyone’s meal. I don’t just do it to be a dick, I do it because it helps me. Do you know how much quicker I get served now rather than those times when I actually cared about other people and wouldn’t show up smelling like I just came from a Wiz Khalifa concert?

As soon as I walk in wearing my fresh cannibas for men cologne, they greet me immediately hoping to get me in either a corner booth outside away from everyone or finding my take out order so I can get out of the restaurant ASAP. Right when I saw I’m here for a pick up my food is miraculously always ready for me. They even throw in some extra fries for me just because you know.

I hate cologne but if I wear any cologne it’s always Cannibas for men. It seems to always work for me. It makes me new friends, new connections, and gets me my food quicker each time I’m out. I guess that’s why I never wear cologne.