I wonder about the people in my life Lately

Goth and Giggles

There are people you meet who have stories so bizarre they sound like something straight out of a sitcom. That's exactly how I met Paul. I mean, there's no one more decent yet unintentionally hilarious than him. I met him in therapy, of all places. To this day, I'm not sure why he was even there. According to him, he was "shopping" for a therapist-because, you know, that's what people do for fun these days, right? He claimed he was just scoping out the good ones. Spoiler: he hated mine. But that's not even the weirdest part.

I was leaving my session-not exactly skipping down the hall like I'd just filmed a pad commercial, but more like contemplating whether I needed a full mental evaluation. Just so you know, I'm in therapy because I went through a goth phase. Everything was black: dark lipstick and heavy eyeliner that made me look like I was auditioning for a Beetlejuice remake. My eyes are big, so the eyeliner was like a neon sign screaming, "Notice me!" Oh, and the bangs-those awful, disruptive bangs. Chokers, platforms, and trench coats that had no business existing in our climate.

Naturally, my mom did what any rational person would do: dragged me to church like I was possessed. A few days of Bible recitations later, I was "cleansed" of my dark phase and promptly sent to therapy.

Anyway, that's when I bumped into Paul. He claimed he was just bored and decided therapy would be his new hobby. Seriously. That's what I found out, at least. He must have been in his last year of high school while I was barely figuring out how to survive as a junior. It was clear from the way he talked to me-a mixture of amusement and condescension-that he saw himself as the wise upperclassman. You know, the type who thinks they have the world figured out.

As we talked, he mentioned that we went to the same high school, which took me by surprise because I didn't remember him at all-probably because I was too caught up in my own goth world to notice anyone. But in hindsight, it started to make sense.

Turns out, Paul wasn't just any student-he was quite the infamous troublemaker. Just to make his point that we were in the same school, he chose to make his presence known in Mrs. Poodle's history class (yes, that was her actual name). And yes, it wasn't even his class. He barged in uninvited, scribbling on the board, "Dear Mrs. Poodle, you should embrace the future. Don't get stuck in the past-it'll never do you any good," and then doodled something wildly inappropriate next to it. After causing a scene, he'd vanish like a ghost.

Of course, being seen with him in the school hall didn't help my case. Thanks to my gothic appearance, I was the obvious suspect whenever trouble went down. So, when Mrs. Poodle asked, "Who did this?" all eyes naturally landed on me.

Fast forward to today, and Paul's still the same-larger-than-life and unconventional, always dragging me into his latest escapades. Today, I'm supposed to meet Paul because it's "life or death." Ridiculous, right? Same old Paul. On the phone, he said, "Big news. So huge, it'll bring me back from the afterlife." (A little gothic tease, naturally.) So here I am, sitting in this dreadful restaurant like a woman left by her husband, drowning in wine. Well, the wine part fits-I'm on my second glass, waiting for over an hour. The waiters keep eyeing me like they're about to offer me leftover cake from a birthday party. (Honestly, I wouldn't say no.)

Just as I'm about to gulp down the last of my wine and make a proud exit, in comes Paul. Dressed like a professor in a white shirt, blue-black blazer, and a useless scarf hanging around his neck. It's the middle of summer, and the guy looks like he's about to teach an art history class. He struts in like he's on a ballroom dance floor, and the moment he spots me, he yells across the room, "Josephineeee!"

Oh, God, no. People are staring. I bow my head, wishing I could disappear into the table. He saunters over, all casual, "Sorry, beings(His word for human), please continue." Then he sits down and grins, "Hello, kid!" (He's called me that since the first day we met.) "Sorry for my tardiness. I was stuck in a meeting I simply couldn't escape. Now, give your father a hug," he adds sarcastically.

I stand up to hug him, barely reaching his shoulders thanks to the ridiculous heels I wore just for him. I probably looked like I was walking on stilts at a carnival.

"You look good. Better than last time-I thought you were heading back to your goth phase, but nice."

"Thanks, professor," I replied.

"I know, I'm trying to impress some beings," he says, winking. "Now, what should we order?"

"Nothing. I've already had two glasses of wine. Let's get out of here. I need real food."

"Say no more, I've got it," he smirks, raising his eyebrows.

"No, you dog," I laugh.

"I picked this place for a reason."

"Are you going to propose?"

"Yes-to a job. A big one. Nothing about me comes in small packages." He grins.

I laugh, "Just say it already."

"I had a meeting with one of those people you like-flashy, into poses, colors, all that. Anyway, the guy works for Glamour as an editor. I showed him some of your stuff-don't kill me, I hoarded it from online-and he wants to interview you. I think he's smitten with your work."

"Shut up. Wait, you? Hoarding my work? If I didn't know better, I'd think you had a crush on me."

He smirked, "I'm serious. You've got an interview. Get ready."

While we chatted about my interview, I felt an electric buzz of excitement. "So, you really think they'll like my work?" I asked, suddenly anxious.

"Absolutely! Your creativity is off the charts. And besides, I gave them the perfect selling point-who wouldn't want to hire the girl who survived a goth phase and came out the other side with a killer sense of humor?"

"Great, I'm a one-woman circus act now," I laughed, shaking my head. But deep down, I knew he was right.

As we finished our meal, I glanced around the bustling restaurant, filled with laughter and chatter, and felt a warmth in my chest. Here I was, on the brink of something new, with Paul by my side, the kind of friendship that felt like a well-loved book-familiar, quirky, and impossible to put down.

"Ready for this?" he asked, raising his glass in a toast.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I replied, clinking my glass against his. Whatever came next, I knew I wouldn't have to face it alone.

As we devoured our food, I got lost in thought(as usual). Paul had always been my grounding force, my inner child in human form. Through highs and lows, he remained my constant guardian angel in a weird, tall body. He's the kind of treasure I'll hold dear, even if I have to crane my neck to look up at him. After all, I might be walking on heels, but he towers over me like a well-meaning, albeit awkward, giant.