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From this time, unchained,
We're all looking at a different picture,
Through this new frame of mind,
A thousand flowers could bloom,
Move over, and give us some room

~~~Portishead, "Glory Box"

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Saturday night, and guess who is all alone. Yep! Me! Gordo is on a date with Miss Clueless and Miranda works late on most Saturday nights.

I decide to do a little online research. I find out that women and men generally operate from different parts of the brain. The left side of the brain dominates women while the right side generally controls men. Interestingly, the left side of the brain dominates emotional attachment and feelings.

I think there might be more to this.

After researching and writing a little more on the topic, I print it off just as Miranda comes bursting though the door. "Lizzie! Lizzie!!"

I quickly save my research and exit out of everything, hiding the printed pages in a drawer. I open up solitaire (how perfect for my present situation!) and pretend to be half asleep. "Oh, hey, Miranda. What's new?"

"Lizzie, I know you're in the depths of despair right now, but depart from your hateful male-malevolent mindset for just a minute and rejoice with me. I got asked out! By my manager! You know, the really really nice and handsome…."

"Yes, you told me all about him. I'm really happy for you." After receiving a 'yeah right' look from Miranda, I add, "I am! Really happy for you. Really!" I look away, trying to hide my true thoughts.

"Lizzie, just remember, time wounds all heels."

I manage a laugh. "What time is it, by the way?"

"A little past eleven. Why? You don't have to get up in the morning."

"Gordo's still," I start, but stop myself. It wasn't my business what Gordo did with his time, or his girlfriends.

"You're really worried about that girl, aren't you. I mean, you don't want Gordo to hurt her. Especially since she's such a close friend," Miranda adds, very sarcastically. "Lizzie, one of these days Gordo won't be there every time you turn around, ready to pick you back up. He won't wait forever."

I feel myself growing red, and quickly reply, "Wait forever for what, Miranda? Me? Yes, we might have had something for each other a long time ago, but that was then. I think you're the one who needs to realize that your two best friends aren't going to have the same last name. You're the one who needs to quit waiting around for that to happen." I grab my printed research out of the drawer and head into Gordo's bedroom, since I wouldn't get any privacy in ours. I can actually feel Miranda shaking her head at me as I retreat.

I apparently fell asleep in Gordo's room. I awaken and realize that I have a blanket over me. I look at his clock. Only 7:30. So much for sleeping in!

I get up and walk into the living room to see Gordo asleep on the couch in his boxers, with my research laying across his chest. "Gordo!" I shout, grabbing my papers and hitting him with them.

He calmly opens his eyes. "What now?"

"You read my research! That's my business!"

"You stole my bed. Let's call it even."

I smile. He was right. "Sorry. I just had a bad night."

"You have a lot of those."

"So," I start, sitting down on the arm of the couch, "How was your date?"

"You don't care to hear about my romantic life."

"No, really, hit me."

"Alright. Well," He sits up, rubbing his eyes. "I like her a lot. Seriously, she's great; smart, so much fun to be around,"

"And beautiful. Guys are so one-track minded." Gordo shakes his head at me. "What? They are!"

"You hypocrite! You mean to tell me that all those guys back in high school you dated because of their sensitive caring personalities?"

"You know, I liked you, too. And you're sensitive and caring."

"Yeah, but nothing ever came out of that. You never actually dated me."

"And whose fault is that? You never actually asked me out either."

"And where would we be now if I had? I would have become another boy toy added to your list, and we would not be able to be living in the same apartment together, talking to each other like we are right now."

"Yeah," I say. Just wait till I told Miranda this! Finally, maybe Miranda will be satisfied that Gordo doesn't still like me, and that whatever we had in high school never will happen. I smile at Gordo, and playfully hit him with a pillow. He pulls me by the waist off of the arm and back onto the couch. I land on top of him, laughing, shaking my hair in his face.

Then Miranda walks into the room. And all the information and facts I could give her about nothing being between Gordo and me fell through.

"What are you two up to?" She asks, leaning on one leg with her hands on her hips, and a broad smile.

"Hey Miranda," I say coolly. "What's up?" I roll off of the couch. "Hey, Miranda, I'm sorry about last night. I just don't want you to go through what I did."

"Not every guy is like Ronnie."

"They're all cast from the same mold."

"Agg! I'm going to go reclaim my room and let you two deal with this. Here." Gordo hands me my research and trudges into his room.

I turn back to Miranda. I hug her, knowing the pain she will soon experience. It just comes with being in love.

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The following Friday, the three of us go shopping at a local mall. Gordo's girlfriend is out of town for the weekend, so I suppose he must have been really bored to go with us. We go into this fancy New Yorker store that has both men and women's formal clothing. I find this evening gown that I want so bad! I know, I don't need it. But, I'm a girl.

Then I look at the price tag and almost faint.

"So, you want to earn a little extra money?" Gordo asks.

I turn around and smile. "Whatcha have in mind?"

"Well, my magazine is wanting an article written about why men and women are so different. Judging by the research you've been, um, researching, I'd say you're qualified to write it. All I have to do is put in a good word about you to the editor."

"Um, Gordo, I don't know about that."

"Come on, its one step closer to being an editor, you'll get paid enough to buy not only that dress but two more just like it if you so desire, and not to mention how this article might help your healing process."

"Were your parents psychologists, or salesclerks?"

"So, you'll do it?"

"Sure. What have I got to lose?"

And so began my new obsession.