Kate’s ex-boyfriend is the boss of his band. He is the tallest and has the ability to grow real facial hair, not just the patchy pubescent kind that most boys our age have. He is well-spoken and has a strong stage presence—he was in the town production of La Cage aux Folles. Kate and her ex are friends now, because all of their friends are mutual, and our little group requires broken-up couples to remain friends, or eveyrthing will fall apart, so they’re not together anymore by any means, but they still have a “thing.” I don’t exactly know what it is.
Ben is tall and thin and terrified-looking, and he’s also the bassist in Kate’s ex-boyfriend’s band. Oh, and by the way, he has a crush on Kate. And, in a recent development, Kate has a crush on Ben. She wanted him to ask her out. But it just wasn’t happening. (He’s also kind of shy.) Someone had to step in. And since Ben is one of my BFFs, I had no choice but to be the Cher to Ben and Kate’s Tai and Elton. No! Make that to their Mr. Hall and Miss Geist.
At their band’s last gig, Ben was trying to gather up the courage to finally ask Kate out. My band was playing the same show, so I was there early. I gave him a pre-show pep talk: “Imagine the relief. Imagine your confidence, and how you’re going to walk differently when you have a girlfriend. Imagine how it feels to kiss her. You rock, and you can do this, and she’s going to say yes. You can do whatever you want, and right now, you want this.” But he didn’t do it.
“Don’t be a pussy,” one of my friends told him.
“Hey, you are what you eat,” said Ben, to a chorus of disgusted noises and a smack upside the head.
He pinky-promised to do it the following day. I knew how disappointed Kate was. “You’d better. I might kill you if you don’t.”
The next day was Mother’s Day. I came up with a plan for us all to go out. To make it seem casual, I got my friend Sam to come with us so he and I could separate from the other two, and Ben would have his chance.
But he chickened out again. Kate looked disappointed. She later thanked me for trying. “No,” I said. “This is going to happen.”
I arranged for them to hang out again the next day. Alone this time. He didn’t ask her out. I called him, and he gave excuses and said he really wanted her, but he was scared. I must be the worst Cher ever. There was another peptalk.
“How do you know she’ll say yes?”
“Because she likes you as much as you like her.”
“What if she says no? How sure are you?”
“Ben, if she says no, I will chop off one of my fingers in front of you.” Ben sighed and promised to try again. He wanted this. He deserves to be happy.
I was going to wait until he asked her out to submit this diary to my editors. I was determined to have a happy ending. Unfortunately, there isn’t one yet. I am the worst Cher ever. ♦