Oh, what a tangled web we weave… Part 1.


When my college roommate Satan set us up on a double date with a Navy guy she had met in Hawaii and one of his friends, I wasn’t exactly what you would call on board with the whole situation. Really? A guy from the Navy? At this point in my life I already had my hands full with my on/off relationship with Mr. X who lived one floor above me in the dorms. I had already made out with two other guys in the same dorms and was pretty much wreaking 21 year old havoc throughout the San Diego area. So I not only didn’t need to be set up on a blind date with a guy from the Navy, I didn’t want to.

“Just go with me. It’s not like you have to kiss the guy,” she said. True, I wasn’t being forced to do anything and I was in desperate need of some time outside the dorms. I had been laid up for about a month after a drunken flag football accident took out my right knee. The score was Stacy: 5 beers. Everyone else… 3. As I was running for the guy who had the ball and just about to grab his flags/gym socks that were hanging out of his waistband, he suddenly changed direction on me. I planted my right foot and pivoted my body to my left and heard a very loud POP come from my right knee. It wasn’t a great feeling as I fell to the ground cradling my knee to my chest. As a result, I had spent a good amount of time in the campus Medical Center listening to the motorcycle accident victim in the bed next to me screaming while he got asphalt pulled out of his arms and legs with tweezers. I left with crutches and a knee immobilizer. I don’t know if you have ever seen one of these things but they aren’t exactly flattering. It’s like a giant cast for your leg but it comes with Velcro so you can take it on and off for showers. Mine was dark blue and had a hole so my knee could stick out. Between the immobilizer and the crutches, campus life had become a little difficult. Technically I didn’t have special needs, at least none I was willing to admit. So I didn’t qualify for the groovy cart that would drive students around campus and drop them off at their classrooms. Considering San Diego State is a pretty big campus to get around, having to do it on crutches made life pretty shitty for a while. So when Satan told me about the Navy guys, I was honestly happier to be going out than I was about my escorts.

The day of the dreaded blind date, Satan’s recently engaged cousin Tracy had come down from LA to make it a fivesome. Now that we had an extra person I felt a little better about the situation. This way I wouldn’t really have to talk to my date if I didn’t want to. The three of us girls piled into Satan’s car. Admittedly, it was somewhat awkward, what with my stupid gimpy leg sticking straight out and draped over the back seat. Nevertheless, we were on our way to pick up the guys. When we pulled up right outside the Naval Base in San Diego, Satan said, “There they are.”
“So which one is Robert?” I asked. Robert was the guy she had met in Hawaii.
“He’s the shorter one,” she said. And as they started walking towards the car I noticed that Robert’s friend was actually pretty damn cute. He had dark hair that didn’t have the traditional military haircut, dark eyes, and a really beautiful smile. The guys opened the door to the back seat and Roberts’s friend just took one look down at my leg and then looked back up at my face. “Hi, I’m Scott,” Roberts’s friend introduced himself to me.
“I’m Stacy. Nice to meet you,” I said as I flashed him the pearly whites.
“How are we going to work this out?” he asked. I guess I’m going to have to sit on your lap. It will be a sacrifice, but one I’m willing to make.
“Well, I guess you guys are going to have to sit and I’m going to have to lay my leg over your laps. How’s that for a first impression?’
“Works for me,” Scott said. Then we went on with the formalities and blah, blah, blah. Time to get drunk.

We drove down to the Red Onion in Pacific Beach, one of Satan’s and my usual haunts. When we went to get out of the car, Scott got out and came around to my side and helped me out. Wait a second…is this chivalry? I’ve heard about this but I thought it was some sort of urban legend. That’s when I noticed he was just a little bit taller than me, which is exactly how I like them. Then as we walked into the bar I noticed he had a really nice ass. This night just gets better and better.

The guys started buying us cocktail after cocktail and Scott kept complementing me on how pretty I was and how long my eyelashes were. I gotta’ tell you, the more he told me how wonderful I am the more I was thinking, You know, he does have a point. I’m just kidding. What I was really thinking was, I like this guy. Then Scott asked me to dance.
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Yeah. I mean you can stand on it, right?” He did have a point. I could stand on it at this point and walk on it; I just wasn’t supposed to be bending it or entering any hopscotch contests. So he took my hand and led me out to the dance floor where he danced and I hobbled around looking like an idiot. I’m pretty sure that if the powers that be from San Diego State had seen me try to dance, they probably would have let me ride the groovy cart. The whole time Scott was dancing he kept making this face that said, I’m a cocky guy and you love it. And to be honest, I did love it. I was having a really good time with this guy.

After we got done dancing, we went back and sat down for a while to talk. Suddenly the bouncer came up and told us we had to leave.
“Why?” I yelled in the giant man’s ear, trying to be heard over the music.
“Because your friend is passed out,” the bouncer yelled back, nodding his head towards Tracy. And sure enough I looked over and Satan’s cousin was completely passed out with her head propped up against a pole. None of us had even noticed because we were all busy talking. That sucks. Just when things were getting good.

So we carried Satan’s cousin out to the car and poured her into the passenger seat. Then the rest of us climbed into the back and we drove them back to the base. Satan and Robert kissed goodbye and Scott and I hugged and that was it, they were gone.
“You like him,” Satan observed.
“Yeah. I think I do.”

The next day I waited and waited and no phone call from the guys. No biggie, its just one day. But then the day after that came and went and even more days passed and I was starting to get a little antsy. Maybe Robert doesn’t really like Satan. I mean they only met once before and it was in Hawaii. Hawaii is a place of romance and maybe she’s just not doing it for him in the real world. Or maybe it’s because Scott doesn’t like me. Naaaaaa. Now irritated at Satan’s lack of drive I decided to take matters into my own hands.
“So, how do I get a hold of the guys?” I asked her the second she walked in the door one afternoon.
“What guys?”
Don’t play coy with me, Satan.
“The Navy guys,” I reminded her patiently.
“I have no idea. Robert just called me out of the blue. I know they are in port but they live on the ship. He never gave me his number.” Well this was just unacceptable. I wanted to see Scott again and I didn’t care who got in my way.
“Do you know the name of the ship?”
“I think it’s the USStherearesomefineassguysonthisboat,” she said.
“Well then, we must call them. What’s Robert’s last name?”
“I have no idea,” she responded. I really hope she’s not planning on going into detective work because she sucks at this sort of thing.
*Sigh* “This isn’t going to be easy,” I said while rolling up my sleeves.

It took a little over an hour and 7 different conversations with 5 different Navy guys before I was able to track down Scott’s name and get him a message. I left a message reminding him who I was (the chick with the messed up knee) and what my number was. Now the ball was in his court. If he wanted to see me again it was up to him. I had already stalked one guy within an inch of his life, and that hadn’t exactly worked out for me. After my extensive detective work to get a message to Scott, I felt like I was getting uncomfortably close to that whole “stalker” title again. So, fine. If he wanted to see me, great. If he didn’t, I had other options.

It wasn’t longer than 15 minutes before the phone in our dorm room rang.
“Hello,” I said.
“Is Stacy there?” Oh my God it’s him. I know it’s him.
“This is she,” I responded very nonchalantly.
“Hey, it’s Scott.”
“Oh hey. How’s it going?” Whatever you do Stacy, act cool.
“So I heard you made quite an effort to find me.”
“Yeah…well, what can I say, when I want something I go for it.” I said and then immediately slapped my hand against my forehead. Tell me you did not just say that!
“I like that in a woman.”
“All right then.”
“So what are you doing this Saturday?”
“Depends,” I said casually, while jumping up and down. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”
“How about dinner?”
Cover phone. Squeal uncontrollably. Contain. Contain. Contain.
“I might be able to do that.”
So Scott and I worked out the details. Another double date, because Robert wanted to go out with Satan again. So it turned out well for the both of us. Now all I had to do was some pre-emptive damage control to make sure none of the other guys I was dating would find out. Including my boyfriend back home in Los Angeles. Did I mention him? Oops. Oh, what a tangled web we weave…

To be continued….

Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Send questions, comments, brownie recipes or random brainfarts to: mrsdiagnosed@yahoo.com

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3 Responses to “Oh, what a tangled web we weave… Part 1.”

  1. I’m hoping that this story ends with us finding out how Satan earned her name… or if not, that we will find out at some point down the road…

    • Satan is hard to write. Because I’m trying to be honest without completely emotionally vomiting all over the page. It’s a typing tightrope.

      • Ahh. Understood. Not to worry, I just read the new blog… let me guess, Satan did hundreds of things, including: Leaving you at a party and telling your friends you wanted to be left there; telling you to pick the ugly guy rather than the hot one you were into during the Dating Game; and not speaking to you for days as punishment for the offense of speaking to the only person you knew well at a party, who happened to be her boyfriend. Satan sounds like an appropriate moniker to me!

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