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  • He was the one in school that bullied me everyday; the one that sent me home crying and feeling like I didn't belong on earth. When he walked though the hallway, a stream of the cool girls followed him and his bros said "great game" or slapped his ass. When I was in high school, I was convinced he had it all.

    I was the shy one; the girl that woke up early to go to The Salvation Army and find sweet sweaters, rode a skateboard around the city and refused to wear a Northface jacket and Uggs. Nobody high fived me, and throughout high school, my locker never got wrapped for my birthday; the classic, vital event of the typical high school girls birthday celebration.

    We met at the go to doughnut spot on the vineyard. I was with my goob best friend and he was, alone. He jumped into our conversation, minutes later admitting he had no social life on the island. Somehow, I ended up giving him a ride home that night.

    Once we ditched goober, he began to open up to me about how degrading it was for him to not have a social life because at home and at school, he never had to work for friends. They just came. I stayed quiet and listened to every word he spoke, slightly in shock. Here he was, Captain Lax Bro exposing his scars to the blonde chick he met less than an hour ago. Something that night told me that this was just the beginning of the shockers.

    From that night on, we continued to foster a friendship that I will never forget while trying to find more loners like us. He'd stop by my surf shop to visit me at work and "whats up" was our way of saying that we needed someone to hang out with because life was kind of lonely. Eventually, I was able to play his lax bro con artist game better than him and truly mastered knowing what he was thinking before he even thought it. Somehow, this was unintentional and more intuition. He just came easy to me.

    The weeks went by and our adventures continued. Mellow nights star gazing would turn into us jumping off the docks without boardies or bikinis on and he would always end up starting random conversations with out of the box people. When the moron Irish dude that I thought I was kinda dating did weird stuff. my ginger haired friend became my pillow to lean on. The advice was never good, but that didn't matter. Advice was borderline useless with me; I always follow my heart anyways. However, his friendship meant the absolute world to me and that was what I really needed on the night we met.

    Eventually, the lack of a massive group of bros and gorgeous blondes got to him. I knew it was coming, though I didn't want to admit it. He needed more than the beach bum, artsy, shy girl, indie jammer that I was and wanted hot chicks to make out with, beer to drink and guys to tell him how great he was. Finding that on the vineyard had proven to be impossible for him. The moment he came into the shop to break the news to me, I felt a part of myself kind of die inside. He had taught me so much, brought out a whole new side of me and certainly opened up my world a bit. I was far from ready to end the adventures with him. Yet at the same time, I had come to care about him enough to know that it was time to let the lax bro go back to his own kind and finally be really happy again. His job was over with me whether I liked it or not.

    The good bye was simple; a hug and a see you later. As he turned the corner though, I screamed his name. "Promise me that if you ever meet a quiet girl that's lonely and shy and kinda weird, you'll welcome her into your life with open arms. Because that's what you did to me and I'll never forget it." He looked, rolled his eyes, said fine and kept going on his way. We certainly were two worlds apart after all.
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