Love's Labours Lost?

A Daria fanfic by E.A. Smith

Legal Blather: Daria and all associated characters arethe property of MTV. This story ismy own.

Well, it's finally happened, the thing I have been dreadingfrom my first week here at Raft. James, my only friend here at school, asked me out on a date today, andI don't know what to do about it. I've been hoping this question wouldn't come up, that he wouldn't actlike every other member of his hormone-crazed gender and leave our buddingfriendship as just that, but it looks like he finally succumbed.  Now he's left me holding the bag,forcing me to choose whether or not to risk the most promising thing I've foundyet at this place. After all, it'snot like my track record in male relationships is stellar.

There was Trent, first of all. God, that's embarrassing to think about now - all thatobsession and self-doubt, over what was just a stupid schoolgirl crush.  I move to a new town, convinced thatlife is going to go on just as miserably as before, and on my second day atMoron High I meet my first real friend, the first person who's ever understoodme. And, to top it all off, she'sgot an older brother, a man who meets almost every definition I have of theword "cool" - he's an outsider, a musician who doesn't bend to society's rules,who pursues his own dreams without worrying if they're practical or evenachievable. And, I hate to admitit, he wasn't incredibly bad-looking either. I fall head-over-heels, so taken that I find it hard to evenverbalize in his presence. Sotaken, in fact, that I don't even notice that his talent is less thanoverwhelming, and that his laziness far outweighs his ambition.  Or, maybe, I just didn't want tonotice, but rather let just this one aspect of my life be ruled by romanticdreams rather than hard reality. Of course, when those dreams collided with a part of reality that reallymattered to me - my education - they crumbled, and I could see what I had beendenying the whole time. Any ideaof Trent and I being together was hopeless delusion. It hurt, and the only reason that I was able to be aroundhim after that is because I knew that he had been oblivious the whole time.

Then there was Ted DeWitt-Clinton, my first datingexperience and my first actual potential boyfriend. Jane was right, he was a kook, but not in any bad way.  He was intelligent and incrediblywell-read, two must-haves on my list of dating requirements, and his completelack of worldly corruption was a welcome respite from my own cynicism.  Looking back on it now, we really mighthave had the beginnings of something worthwhile. Then we went on our first "date", so to speak, and he blewit all to hell. Again, lookingback on it, I might have overreacted; what he did wasn't a result of maliciousness,just naivete, combined with his natural earnestness. And I was pissed off not only at what he did, but who he wasdoing it with. It was a betrayal,consorting with the enemy, and at that time there was no greater crime in myworld. And so I tossed my firstpotential boyfriend to the wayside, leaving him to tread the paths ofpopularity while I walked my lonely road with Jane.

And, finally, there was Tom. Oh, brother, what a disaster that was, from beginning toend. I should have known from thebeginning that that wouldn't work. There were too many differences between us, too many aspects of hispersonality and situation that I knew would press my buttons, not to mentionthe extremely unfortunate manner in which we originally got together, but Iwent ahead with it anyway. Why? Was I just beingblind, sincerely believing that he and I could be a viable couple, despite thefact that I loathed every aspect of his world except him?  Was I caught up in the moment, sweptaway by the tide of events, and by Tom's own confidence in himself and ourrelationship? Or was it all just agrand experiment, a relationship just to see if I could have a relationship, tosee if I could sustain such a fragile and precious state?  If that last one was the case, than Iwould have to say that the experiment was a miserable failure, a series ofarguments and misunderstandings punctuated with a few brief moments of actualhappiness. The fact that I haven'tspoken to Tom since our break-up, despite our promise to remain friends, speaksvolumes to that effect. Strikethree.

And now, there's James, ready to start the whole cycle overagain. I should have seen thismoment coming from the very first day we met, on the second day of FreshmanChemistry. Actually, I'm prettycertain he noticed me on the first day, when the professor, after reviewing thesyllabus, asked if there were any problems, and I responded "Just with theuniverse in general". I heard achuckle behind me, but since the professor proceeded on without so much as apause, I didn't give it a second thought. Then, the next day, James sat down next to me, with only a single emptychair between us; I didn't notice, since I hadn't paid any attention to who hadbeen sitting in that desk the day before. But then he started making little sardonic remarks under his breath,addressed to no one in particular but obviously pitched just so that I couldoverhear. Against my will, heactually pulled a slight smile out of me, and I started to respond inkind. And so we passed the nextfew days.

After the first week of classes, he introduced himself.  "James McCarthy," he said, sticking outhis hand. I took it warily, andjust as warily gave him my own name, worried even as I said it that I wasmaking a mistake. Never before Ihad sought out attention, especially male attention, at school, and thestereotypical reputation of "college boys" only increased my fears.  Still, his friendliness seemed genuine,free of ulterior motives, and I knew he wouldn't even be at this school if hewasn't above-average in intelligence - this may not be Bromwell, but none ofthe usual Lawndale cretins would stand a chance here - and the whole purpose ofcollege (or so I am told) is to expand your horizons. So I accepted his invitation to accompany him to lunch.  The absence of Jane in my life, for thefirst time in three years, was another factor, no doubt.  I was no longer accustomed to eating alone.

And so it began, first with lunch every day, then withstudying together on the weekends. We weren't inseparable, but we could be found together more often thannot, and he never acted as anything more than just a friend to me, which isexactly what I wanted. Lookingback on it now, there might have been a few warning signs - he never seemedparticularly comfortable when I mentioned Tom or Trent, for example - butnothing that couldn't be explained away. We made a few jokes about other people assuming we were dating, but theywere off-the-cuff and never given a second thought. I was as happy with our friendship as someone like me couldreasonably be.

Then, after lunch today, he pulled the rug out from underthe whole thing. Voice trembling,knees almost knocking together, he asked me out, asking if I wanted to go havedinner this weekend, and see a play afterwards. I responded that he should be careful, that I might think hewas asking me out on a date with a request like that; his face red, hestammered out that that was exactly what he was doing.  I, the writer, the girl who always hasa snappy comeback for everything, was speechless; at the time, it seemed so outof the blue, so unlike anything I was looking for from him, that I couldn'tthink of how to respond. Finally,still unsure of what to say, or even what I wanted, I told him I would thinkabout it, and beat a hasty retreat to the safety of my dormroom.

Which is where I find myself now, two hours later and nocloser to an answer. My firstreaction is to flat-out refuse, to cut and run and avoid any future contactwith him, to forever despise him for taking a perfectly acceptable, simplefriendship and making something disturbingly complex out of it.  Or was it ever really a friendship atall? Did he plan this from thebeginning, cleverly slipping under my radar until I trusted him enough to evenbe considering it? I should haveasked him that, but my brain was too shocked at the time to formulate even sucha basic suspicion. Am I that easyof a dupe? Or am I being too hardon him, too black-and-white with the situation? Asking out a girl you like is hardly a crime, and he knowsme well enough so that I can be sure he's not just out for a quick lay.  And a friendship with an element ofattraction is still a friendship. He's not Upchuck, after all. (I think I would still be pretty safe if he was - Upchuck couldn't evendrum up the courage to hold on to a fake boob; how could he ever bring himselfto grab a real one?) And hisnervousness is reassuring - it shows that he's as inexperienced in this wholething as I am, if not more so. He's hardly a smooth operator.

I suppose the really important question is: do I want to goout with him? Can I even afford togo out with him? I haveschoolwork, after all, and that has to come first. No boy is going to come between me and a diploma, between meand my chosen profession. I don'thave the time . . .

Oh, who am I kidding?! Raft's a tough school, but if the average student here can do well whilestill having a life outside of their work - and I know most of them do - thanI'm certain that I can. The realquestion is not whether or not my grades can survive a relationship, butwhether or not my heart can. He'san interesting person, and I enjoy being around him, but I have not had asingle relationship with a male that has not caused me considerable pain (well,except maybe for my father, but that's only because I keep my expectationslow); why should I subject myself to that again? I can handle losing a casual friendship, but I can't takedating so casually; failure there hurts too much. And it doesn't help that I see so much of my pastrelationships in James - there's Trent's dedication and passion, Ted'searnestness, and Tom's intelligence and sense of humor.  All good qualities, but they can allcause problems too. If there wasnothing at stake, I think I would go for it, but can I endure failure again?

I wish Jane were here. I could use her advice, her wit, her perspective on the wholematter. But I couldn't object whenher father asked her to travel with him, to paint the sunset or photographCeltic rock formations or something like that. I suppose the news that his youngest child was going to beoff to college very soon, and a fine arts college at that, stirred some dormantpaternal feelings in the man. Ormaybe he just needed an extra pair of arms to hold his photographyequipment. Either way, Jane'sincommunicado until the start of the next semester, and I'm left to face thisone on my own.

But if I'm honest with myself, I know what her advice wouldbe. Jane's always encouraged me topursue every possible romance that has come my way, even - after the initialstorm had blown over - with Tom. She's never been less than supportive on those rare occasions when I'vereached out beyond just the two of us. If she was here, she'd tell me to go for it, maybe offer to lend me herlipstick. Go for it and have fun,and if it shatters and falls to the ground, take the next opportunity with justas much enthusiasm. She certainlydid - Evan, Tom, Nathan, even the bigheaded boy at Brittany's party - none ofthose setbacks ever discouraged her from trying again.  As long as she always had me to comeback to, she was never afraid to see where the newest romantic adventure wouldtake her. But I'm not Jane, I'mDaria, and Daria has never been one to set off on adventures.  Am I content with that?  Am I happy with that?

What do I do?