Stark Raving Mad

Let me start by saying, I'm not a writer.  I like to pretend that I have the ability to wax poetic, but in truth, I entirely lack the skill or the talent to properly capture everything that I would like to put down.  Secondly, I am writing this post not for you, but for me, to ease my own fears of oblivion, of forgetting.  To that end, I will try and tell this story in its entirety, I will endeavor to remember as much as I can from the hazy, distant memories of ages past.  I would ask that you forgive any omissions or inaccuracies that will occur, but after years of pretending that everything was ok, it might ultimately be hard for me to recall everything exactly as it was.

I suppose I should start by introducing myself first.  I am, without putting to fine a point on it, uninteresting in almost every way.  I have never been particularly talented, athletic, smart, popular or good looking.  As a high schooler, I was a nerd through and through.  I played the violin, sang in the chorus, played Ultimate Frisbee, and hung out with only a select few people, all of whom did most of the same stuff I did.  I wasn't the social pariah that Hollywood would have you believe nerds to be.  I was never thrown in a dumpster or pantsed in gym class, I was never locked in a locker or had my lunch money stolen.  But nor was I invited to any parties or pursued by any of the girls in our class.  In the end however, I suppose I didn't mind.  I was a boy with simple needs that were easily fulfilled.  I spent more time caring about my KDA in Halo than I did about love or dating.  I suppose then it is only ironic that the next several years would happen to me and nobody else.  So before I go to much further, I'd like to tell you the story of Amy, the first girl I really dated, the first girl I loved, the first girl I lost.

Two Boston based friends host this comedy podcast as they attempt, with the help of their friends...