How to Be a Normal Person

by TJ Klune

  “You should probably go to the burn unit for those burns,” Bernice whispered.

  “Oh my god,” Gus said. “Bernice. What the hell.”

  “Where is your maybe boyfriend?” Betty asked.

  Gus rolled his eyes. “I made him stay at the coffee shop to finish up the chapter he’s working on. He needs to turn the next portion in by the end of June and he’s been procrastinating. I told him he can’t come over here until he’s done.”

  Almost quicker than he could follow, Bernice was standing in front of him, liver-spotted hand curled in the cuff of his red Hawaiian shirt, pulling him down until they were face to face. “He’s working on DesRinaDale?” she demanded. “Speak, boy. Tell me of the secrets he writes within his pages lest I bloody your nose in glorious retribution.”

  “Lest you what?” Gus squeaked.

  Bertha sighed. “She really does love those books.”

  “A little too much if you ask me,” Betty said.

  “Uh,” Gus said. “Guys? Some help?”

  “They can’t hear you,” Bernice hissed. “Tell me what I want to know!”

  “I don’t know what DesRinaDale is!”

  It’s Desmondo, Catarina, and Martindale!” she all but shrieked. “It’s how I ship them!”

  “I didn’t understand anything of what you just said,” Gus said, struggling to get away.

  “Bah!” she shrieked, shaking him a little. For being an elderly lady, she was frighteningly strong. Gus made a mental note to increase his workout regimen to ensure he could take Bernice in a fight if he had to. He was not looking forward to that day.

  She let him go and took some deep, calming breaths. When she opened her eyes again, they were free from fandom rage and she resembled the sweet old lady he’d known for years. “Sorry about that, dear,” she said sweetly. “Sometimes I forget myself when I Hulk out. I take DesRinaDale very seriously. I can’t promise it won’t happen again, but just know I apologize in advance.”

  “That is not as comforting as you think it is,” Gus said. “And maybe Casey doesn’t even want to date me. He’s asexual. He doesn’t like that sort of thing.”

  Bertha frowned. “Now you’re generalizing and that’s not fair. Sex and romance don’t always have to go hand in hand, Gustavo. And there’s a difference between being asexual and aromantic. Asexuals experience little to no sexual attraction. Aromantics experience little to no romantic attraction. They’re not the same. And you can be one without the other. Or both. Or neither.”

  “You just have to decide what you want,” Betty told him. “And decide what he wants. If they’re both mutual, then it goes somewhere. If it’s not, at least you have a new friend out of this.”

  She was right, of course. Gus was just trying to pawn off his own insecurities on Casey when he should be dealing with them on his own. He wasn’t quite as normal as he wanted to be, but he was getting there. He figured he would just need to try harder.

  “I could invite him to the Strawberry Festival next week,” he said begrudgingly.

  “You mean that festival you say is the worst thing in the world?” Bertha asked.

  “That festival where the town gathers to interact and the only day every year you actively try to leave Abby?” Bernice asked.

  “The festival where you said, and I quote, ‘I would rather burn on the surface of the sun than ever be caught dead at because oh my god, a strawberry festival? Seriously? This is not the nineteen fifties and we don’t live in Mayberry. Shoot me in the face.’ End quote. That strawberry festival?”

  “Your impression of me is terrible,” Gus said. “I don’t sound anywhere near that dramatic and what was with your face? Are you having a stroke? Do I need to call 911?”

  “That’s what you look like when you scowl,” Bertha explained.

  “I regret ever having talked to any of you,” Gus grumbled.

  “Well,” Bernice said. “This has been lovely. So, since you will be in attendance to the conveniently timed festival, the only thing that remains is the easy part, which is to formally invite him as your date.”

  Gus never understood what true terror was up until that moment.

  HOW TO Ask a Guy on a Date

  So! You’ve got your eye on someone, do you? Congratulations! It’s a great feeling to find someone you connect with. And now, you’re ready to take that next step and ask him on a date. It can be nerve-racking, sure, but with these easy-to-follow steps, you’ll have that guy of your dreams on your arm in no time!

  Step 1: Set up the Scene

  When you are ready to ask the guy out, make sure to avoid high-pressure situations. If you are both police officers, don’t ask him out in the middle of a drug bust of a Colombian drug cartel. If you’re a video store owner, make sure it’s not on a day when you have reduced-price rentals as those days tend to be the busiest.

  “What,” Gus said, staring at his computer. “No. Seriously. What.”

  Make sure the object of your affections is comfortable. Don’t force an answer and don’t put pressure on him to answer right away. Make sure to act calm, cool, and collected. Don’t get upset if the answer is no. Sometimes, these things happen. And it’s okay if it does! That just means that the timing wasn’t right or the guy sees you as more of a friend than anything.

  “Hi,” Gus said as he walked into the coffee shop the following week.

  “Hey, man,” Casey said, looking up from his laptop. “That time already?”

  “Sure,” Gus said, trying to radiate confidence. He glanced at Lottie, who was doing a shit job of pretending she wasn’t listening in, which meant the We Three Queens had already gotten to her. Damn them. And damn her too.

  “Cool, man. I got some good word count out today. I think I’ve—”

  “Can I talk to you?” Gus blurted.

  “Sure,” Casey said, cocking his head. “You know that. Anything, Gustavo.”

  “Okay,” Gus said. He looked around, scoping out the scene before looking back at Casey. “Are you comfortable?”

  “In this chair?” Casey asked, sounding confused.

  “With your surroundings,” Gus clarified.

  “Um. I think so?”

  Good, now that he’s comfortable, make sure you maintain eye contact. It shows that you are confident in your ability to ask someone out, and will help put the guy at ease. Try to show in your eyes that you are paying attention to him and only him so that there is no misunderstanding at what you want.

  Gus stared at Casey, barely blinking.

  “What are you doing?” Casey asked, squinting at him.

  “Making sure you understand,” Gus said. “Do you feel at ease?”

  “Oh my god,” Lottie moaned in the background.

  Make sure that if the guy should say no, you have a way to leave quickly and safely. Don’t be rude about it; it’s possible that the timing just wasn’t right. If he should say no, have a planned reason for needing to leave, like you just remembered you left a cake in the oven or you are taking a business trip to Uruguay and the plane leaves in forty minutes.

  Gus looked at the door to the coffee shop. If Casey said no, he’d remember to tell him he’d left a business cake in Uruguay (or whatever it was, Gus couldn’t really think clearly right now), before running as quickly as he could out the door.

  It’s okay to be slightly flirty! If you do decide to flirt, keep it clean and low-key. Don’t make overtly suggestive comments as they might make him uncomfortable. Complimenting a person is a great way to flirt, but don’t overdo it.

  Also, don’t wear revealing clothing because you are trying to ask a guy out, not hook up in the back of a bar where the techno music is too loud. Keep it sexy, but also keep it classy. Make him work for it!

  Gus looked down. He was wearing jeans that were frayed slightly and a purple Hawaiian shirt. He’d undone the top button and hoped that it wasn’t too revealing. He didn’t know how sexy it was, but he didn’t think Casey cared about that part too much. He just h
oped he didn’t look like a club whore.

  And flirting! He could do this. He had practiced in the mirror in the bathroom at the Emporium. He looked up at Casey, cocked an eyebrow in such a way as to hopefully be considered slightly provocative, and said, “Hey. I like your hair and your tattoos and your face and your personality.” And then he winked.

  Lottie wheezed something fierce.

  “Thank you,” Casey said, visibly struggling not to grin. “I like those things about you as well. I also like your nose and your eyes and the way you scowl at Girl Scouts when they try to sell you cookies but you end up buying them anyway.”

  “Cool,” Gus said. “That’s real cool.”

  Have an event or date already in mind. It will help when the guy you’re asking says yes and you’re not left floundering for ideas. This will be especially helpful if he asks right away what you’ll be doing or if he wants to know what the date will entail before he says yes. Make sure the date is something pleasant and able to be enjoyed by all. You should not be asking a guy on a first date to your parole hearing or to pick you up after having a growth removed from your back. Make it something fun like a lecture on Mesoamerica or a pottery class that you both can make clay plates you will never use.

  Okay, the flirting was out of the way. He’d botched it a little, but Casey had blushed the tiniest bit, so Gus considered that a win. He’d expected to go down in flames, but so far, he was doing reasonably well, no matter how much Lottie seemed to be choking in the background.

  “So,” Gus said. “You’re comfortable. You feel at ease. I winked at you, which honestly, I might be starting to regret. Do you know the Strawberry Festival?”

  “You mean that festival that the chamber of commerce has literally covered the town in flyers for?” Casey asked, leaning toward Gus.

  “Yes,” Gus said. “That one.”

  “No, man,” Casey said. “I have no idea.”

  “Oh,” Gus said. “Well, it’s a festival. For strawberries.”

  “Really?” Casey asked, not even trying to hold back the smile. “You don’t say.”

  “Really,” Gus said. “There is food and music and games. And strawberries.”

  “Huh,” Casey said. “And you enjoy that?”

  “Not in the slightest,” Gus said. “Er. I mean. Yes. It’s a wonderful event that promotes a sense of community.”

  “Okay, you want to go, then?” Casey asked. “It’s on Saturday, right? You could close the Emporium early and we can go together.”

  “Yes,” Gus said. “I want that. That sounds nice. Yes please.”

  “Cool,” Casey said, sitting back in his chair and looking satisfied. “Then it’s a date.”

  “Cool,” Gus echoed. Then, “Wait. What?”

  “We’re going on a date,” Casey said. “To the Strawberry Festival.”

  “What? But… that’s not… oh my god… you weren’t supposed to… I was going to ask… why did you just take my picture?”

  “I have to document this moment,” Casey said. “The world needs to know that this just occurred.” He started typing furiously. “Hey, followers. Just asked Gustavo out on a date. This is his reaction while saying yes. Winkie face. Blushing face. Heart eyes face. Hashtag took long enough. Hashtag Grumpy Gus has leveled up. Hashtag mountain town adventures. Hashtag what will I wear. Hashtag strawberry festival. Hashtag leave no stoner unturned. And posted.” He put the phone down and looked up at Gus expectantly. “You’re very popular with my followers. They ship us and call us Tibards, for Tiberius and Richards. It’s awesome.”

  Gus didn’t really know what to do with that. He didn’t really understand what shipping was. And he thought Tibards sounded like tuberculosis. “That’s bodacious,” he said. “Or whatever the kids say these days. I don’t even know.”

  Casey demanded, “We need to hug now.”

  And who was Gus to argue with that.

  No one, that’s who.

  And besides, he was getting really good at hugs now, given that this was their ninth one. He thought about looking up how to give better hugs on the Internet, but he didn’t think normal people did that. Because that was just weird.

  He didn’t need it, anyway. From the way Casey held on, he was doing good.

  And he was almost able to ignore Lottie behind them while they hugged, giving Gus two thumbs-up and winking.

  Almost.

  Chapter 13

  NOW, IT should be said that Gus had never been on a date before. Not necessarily because he didn’t want to go on a date; the opportunity had just never really presented itself. The few interactions with people he’d been attracted to in the past usually led to him fumbling through his words, a red heat of embarrassment washing over him, or a quick sexual one-off that left him feeling slightly hollow and confused as to why it didn’t mean more than it did to him.

  Maybe the “hangouts” he’d had with Casey could have been construed as dates, but now that there was an actual Date on the table (capitalized and everything in Gus’s head), there was a feeling that this held monumental importance and he needed to treat it as such.

  Sometimes, Gus didn’t understand how he found himself in the situations that he did. Even if he was the common denominator, he obviously was not at fault. There had to be some other cosmic power that lorded over him. That made sense. Well, a lot of things made sense now that he was high.

  Anyway.

  It had started out good. Great, even. Well, as great as one can expect a locally produced, cheaply funded small-town festival to be. Which is to say not that great.

  But they were making the most of it!

  Gus did his best not to glare at the people walking by the video store that day. He even went so far as to put up in the window one of the large paper strawberries the chamber of commerce parceled out to all businesses. His happened to be a cartoon strawberry with big eyes and a smiley face with a word balloon saying IT’S TIME TO GET OUR STRAWBERRY ON.

  Gus was never the type of person to get his strawberry on, whatever the fuck that meant. In fact, in years past, he’d done all he could to avoid getting his strawberry on in any capacity. Anytime part of the town’s Fun Committee would stop by (god, how he hated the person that came up with that term with a fiery passion that burned like a thousand suns), Gus would conveniently be closed and unable to take their meetings.

  (Read: he saw them coming, locked the door, and hid behind the sci-fi movie shelves.)

  But now.

  Now he had a date and when Mrs. Leslie Von Patterson had approached the morning of the festival, her high heels clicking on the cement sidewalk, he swallowed his pride and stood behind the counter, waiting for her to enter. After all, normal people helped to celebrate Strawberry Festivals. And he was almost normal now.

  She seemed surprised when she tried the door, but quickly schooled it into the sunny, fake smile that all people on the Fun Committee seemed to have to make sure everyone understood they were fun. She pushed her way in, carrying the large cardboard strawberry that Gus knew was coming and dreaded with every fiber of his being. Especially since she was wearing strawberry earrings, a white blouse with little strawberry prints on it, and a red skirt. It was slightly vomit-inducing how into Strawberry Festival she was. And most likely how everyone was going to be.

  She said, “Gustavo! How lovely to see you.”

  He said, “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Mrs. Von Patterson’s smile slipped into more of a shark’s grin. “I see you are actively participating this year. My, how things change.”

  He nodded stiffly. “I figured it was time to show my support for an event such as the aptly named Strawberry Festival. And what charity are the proceeds being donated to this year?”

  “There are two this year,” she said, glancing around the video store, the distaste evident on her face. She hadn’t rented a movie in years, but Gus remembered her propensity for everything eighties fantasy and disliked her for that alone. “It was my turn to ch
oose both of them. The first is for Save the Narwhals.”

  “Narwhals,” Gus repeated.

  “Yes.”

  “The medium-sized toothed whale primarily found in Arctic, Russian, and Greenlandic waters.”

  “They look like unicorns,” she breathed.

  Gus barely stopped himself from banging his head on the counter. “And the second?”

  “Resources for battered women,” she said.

  “Oh,” Gus said. “That sounds—”

  “Who believe in unicorns,” she rushed to finish.

  “—like a misappropriation of charity money. Are you serious?”

  “My turn to pick,” she trilled. “I get that once every five years, Gustavo, and this is my year to shine. I love unicorns. They’re not real. At least not anymore. Ergo, I find charities that are as close as I can get. Also, I brought you a strawberry that you will put up in your window this year, so help me god.”

  He folded his arms over his chest and glared. “And if I don’t?”

  That shark’s grin widened. “Why wouldn’t you? Word on the street is that you’ve got yourself a date with that tattooed boy of Lottie’s. Surely you want to impress him? Haven’t you watched television? There is no better way to impress a hippie than to save women and narwhals.”

  Gus rolled his eyes. “He’s a hipster.”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Same thing. Lord knows that’s why California is the way it is. I heard it’s legal there to marry your cousin, even if she’s a goat.”

  “I’m not even going to touch that,” Gus said.

  “Plus,” Mrs. Von Patterson said, “Pastor Tommy would do it.”

  “Ugh,” Gus said. “Playing the dead father card. That was low, even for you.”

  “Anything for narwhals,” she said. “Strawberry?”

  “Fine,” Gus grumbled. “I’ll put one up.”

  “I knew you would see it my way,” she said. “Also, we have levels of donations this year. If you donate a thousand dollars, you can adopt your very own narwhal. Isn’t that wonderful?”