I mean I'm good at waiting, i can wait for anything. I'm also attentive; in French the verb attendre means to wait, so it's a good word fro me. It's very appropriate in my life because so often I find myself the willing third member of a duet, somehow keeping my emotions, desires, and eventual machinations from rendering the threesomes a crowd or a triangle. I know when to say when. I know how to wait.

`When I was younger, I was arrogant and awkward. I suppose I still am, but I'm no longer proud of it. Brad was also arrogant, but not awkward. He went out with Chase when we were still inexperienced enough for every mixed-gender rendezvous to be an experiment. To say that I had a crush on Chase is to say the sky is blue. I often wheedled my way into their presence, and I think they allowed it because they were afraid of their own feelings and more importantly the potential those feelings had.

Brad was athletic in a stocky, rough and tumble, naturally gifted but also naturally unpassionate kind of way. We played tennis, soccer, tackle football in the fall when thick sweaters could be worn. Our friends always joined in with the momentary enthusiasm of competition. One time, David broke his arm- Brad himself got a bloody nose once on the soccer field. My point is we were neither slackers nor professionals.

And it was with this same attitude that Brad pursues Chase. He teased her, cajoled her, mesmerized her, insulted her, worshipped her. Thus, when she finally discovered he was interested in her, she was at once both surprised and told something of which she had been quite sure.

I myself had always been a worshipper of women, a waiter. I put myself in their presence and waited, knowing that if Fate existed all would occur as it should, and if there was no Fate, mine was the best position for opportunities. I preferred the Fate version, but found the opposite to be the the truth. Chase and I periodically walked the malls together, talking about her divorced parents, her asshole brother, and one day, about Brad. I served him up on a silver platter. I told her how he often spoke about her. Tennis games were sometimes wagered upon by us, the winner earning the hand of Chase. On restless moonless nights we'd sneak out of the house and ride our bikes to hers. I assured her every secret note she found in her locker was from him (half were from me). I explained that the teasing and the insults were just defenses against his own longings. I told her that Brad read her horoscope everyday.

Chase was enthusiastic, and just bewildered enough to show she'd hoped for such a thing all along. She gave me a message to tell him, which of course I edited, because I knew him better. Soon they were dating.

I became their confidants. Brad told me about their first kiss. Chase told me about their first arm-around-the-shoulder. Brad confessed the sometimes lecherous thoughts he had; Chase confessed the sometimes too-romantic dreams she invented. i chaperones, so to speak, their dates, on occasion, catching Chase's eyes when I could, feeding on her joy and doing my best to establish myself in it. Her eyes were light brown and I would revel in their contact with mine. If she would ever visit the lady's room while the three of us waited on a supreme pizza with no black olives, I would invariably mention to Brad the shape of her breasts, the smoothness of her legs, the undeniably attractiveness of her hips, only so that we wouldn't talk about her eyes.

Occasionally a female cousin would visit Brad, or one of Chase's friends would be bored enough to attend an evenings sortie. If they knew me form school, I spent the evening overcoming my nerdy reputation. Charm, conversation, flirtation. All for the benefit of Chase. but worked on Stephanie or Brenda or Janet or Pamela. The end result was that they didn't regret their evening, nor did they fear I'd enjoyed myself too much.

`I'm a waiter, and one who attends a situation does so for the express purpose of expectations. I have a nearly infinite patience if I think there will be an eventual reward (however slight), but absolutely no patience whatsoever if the task would be fruitless. At our first homecoming dance I knew the evening would be as dull for me as Mass for a Buddhist- and just as pointless. I waited until midnight and went to Jack's where the after-dance party was to be (his mom being conveniently out of town). I helped him set up the keg his older brother got for him, helped him party-proof the basement furniture. People started showing up around 1:00. When Brad and Chase came in, I knew my wait was nearly over.

On those occasions when the three of us visited a dark park or a bench by the river, Brad would drink a few bottles of beer lifted form his dad's garage stash, or an infrequent flask of peach schnapps. He cajoled Chase into partaking sometimes as well. My role on those occasions was chauffeur and controller, because when inebriated Brad tended to get both abrasive and forward. By the time they'd reached Jack's house, Brad was obviously enjoying the pre-dance fueling he'd done, and Chase obviously wasn't.

I wasn't evil. I didn't offer Brad another beer to help things along. I even told him a few times he was being an asshole. But I admit, I didn't try very hard. How could I? Chase's hair was sculpted around her perfect face. Her lips were rouged and they seemed proof to me that being alive was the greatest gift I'd ever received. Her red dress matched her body curve for curve, complimenting her breasts, accentuating her hips. Her stockinged legs were as an aphrodisiac to my inexperienced but oh so ready soul. I let her exist next to her soused boyfriend and I waited.

Jack thought he was some kind of artist. He claimed this his selection of songs was progressively romantic "to help my buds earn their wings." Talons, too, apparently- by three am Brad was well oiled and ready to consummate six weeks of dating. But he wasn't gentle (he didn't wait) and he was pushed away. Angry, he said things, things I knew he would say. He left. Chase cried. The waiting was over.

I touched her shoulder- she didn't flinch. We were friends, after all. I'd seen her cry before, over her divorced parents, so she wasn't afraid to let me see her tears. I sat down next to her, saying nothing, until she eventually fell asleep.

She fell asleep in my arms. Her head was on my chest, her arms around my neck. I could feel her breasts against my ribs, her hair under my chin. I was in heaven. Peace. Utter contentment.

When the sun rose I awoke too, we in the same position. She was already awake, staring at my face. Her eyes were immaculate, perfect, everything in the whole world. And she kissed me full on the mouth. I tasted her- it was the culmination of waiting a thousand years. She smiled, picked herself up, and went home.

Brad and Chase made up, dated, broke it off at Christmas, the perfect season for doing so. She and I remained friends. At a drunken party five years later, in college, we fooled around, a momentary amusement. She married a TA after graduation. We still keep in touch with cards now and again.