The 100 Girls, 100 Days Project

I’ve never been much for wakes. Something about sitting amidst crying octogenarians, and making small talk with a dead body at the center of the room makes it seem like some sort of bizarre dinner party, except you don’t get an hors d’overs.  It might have something to do with the fact that aside from my mother’s parents, nobody close to me has ever died. Or it might be the fact that if you sit in that room staring at the body long enough, you swear its breathing. This results in and all sort of mixed up zombie day dreams. So you either spend your time fantasizing about the waking dead, or avoid the subject at hand.

I further don’t understand the necessity for the multiple viewings, which log in some serious face-time with the corpse. I have a vivid memory of a four-year-old Travis sitting on the steps of the funeral home during his grandmother’s wake. He just sat and watched every mourner walk by and wondered if she died because he never hugged her and always rubbed away her kisses and affection.

Twenty-four years later and I sat on the same exact steps while watching a parade of mourners go in and out for a distant relative I didn’t even know.  I nervously tapped my feet while checking my email on my cell phone when I get scolded.

It’s a little rude to be checking a phone at a wake.

And I panicked. I figured it was one of my distant relatives, or the funeral home people, or pretty much anybody who could call me on my lack of tact. I muttered out some sort of apology before looking up and noticing it was none of those things.

You know, if you’re stalking me a wake is hardly an appropriate place to make contact.

Nicole just looked at me with deader eyes then the person in the other room. I didn’t really know what to say.

Sorry, I tend to make jokes at inappropriate times. It’s one of my defining character traits.

This got brought the elusive chuckle out of hiding. She was embarrassed to laugh at such a time.  I found the stalking joke funny because I’m the one who put up an ad on the internet over her. Let the lesson be learned that you merely have to attend a wake to find the girl of your dreams.

We talked about how we mutually knew the deceased, and how we were both there out of a sense of obligation, rather than remorse and mourning. Then I did something both smart and dumb.

You know I wanted to ask you something the other day.

Is that so?

Yeah, timing was pretty bad though.

How’s the timing now?

Well, we are at a wake so…I’d say we have bang up timing.

Are you really going to ask me out at a wake.

God no, that’s just tacky. I’m going to ask you what your phone number is, so I can ask you out in three days.

Three days?

I’m in mourning.

After three years, and two botched opportunities I finally got Nicole’s number. I don’t know if I’m going to use it, but it’s nice to have in case of emergency. It was just a matter of what that emergency was. Whether I was drowning in the flood of dates or stuck in a desert.