Chapter One. Zeke.

Dear Diary,

Hey. I'm writing to you as Zeke. At least, that's what they call me. It's a pretty rad nickname that they gave me one day a long time ago. It's stuck ever since. Those girls, they're so inventive. Psychotic, yet inventive. If there's one group of women that can keep any guy on his toes, it's them. Alien Girl especially. She is something else. We'd discussed this meeting for a while now, between you and I, Diary. I thought that it would be beneficial for us to get to know each other. Alien Girl says I'm really charismatic. I'm not a dull person to be around, I've been told. She usually introduces me first to the people she hangs around with. More than once I've stolen her friends. It's all in good fun. The girls she hangs out with aren't used to being friends with a guy like me, and I'm used to being surrounded by women. It's a blessing and a curse at times, but I digress. You don't really know me yet, but we're about to get exceedingly personal, Diary. I guess I should start with the basics:

I was born on March 13, 1986. I don't know what the purpose is for stating my actual birth date to you, but Alien Girl says it's valid. I could have just told you that I'm twenty-one, but if that's what she thinks will help, I suppose I'll follow along. I'm not really much of a follower; in fact, I'm the first to finish a double shot of Patron, and the first to sport the latest trends. The girls usually see me and follow my style. It makes me laugh at how clueless they are at times, but when you have issues, I suppose even the simplest of things get overlooked. Sometimes I think that without me, they'd be absolutely lost socially. I make it easier when they're introduced to a new person or activity, because none of them are the first to approach anybody new. I can't imagine what that's like, to be scared of strangers. It must be a major hindrance on social experiences. I mean, how is being a silent wallflower any fun at a party? It's not that hard to ask someone attractive to dance. I get invites all of the time. Maybe if the girls were a bit more like me, they'd actually get invites and then actually accept them instead of standing around hopelessly fantasizing about the day they might be attractive to somebody else. They all have the potential; I just wish they'd use it. Any guy is willing to be offered something, as long as the girl is willing to give it up. But those girls haven't found the balls to offer up anything yet, and it's a damn shame.

I'm 5'11". I'm very particular about my image, so I work out frequently. I have to be moving. I'm the first to climb the rock or to rush out into the waves. I've never sunbathed in my life and I never have time to read. I've got hazel green eyes and long, dark eyelashes. The girls get envious about my eyelashes. When they grow the balls to experiment with make-up, they always bitch about how they wish they could have my eyelashes.

"I'm so tired of these falsies."

"I hate having to use globs of mascara."

It's the same old shit. But even so, what can I say? I was blessed with great features, it's not my fault. Girls will be girls, I suppose. I just roll my eyes and move on.

I have black hair that I usually slick back. I use enough product; not a lot. I hate when guys turn their hair into a helmet on their head with massive amounts of cement. I just make sure to tame the frizz. Plus, what I use makes my hair shine - another topic at which the girls never cease to bitch about. I've got a few tattoos. I've been told that I have a strong jaw-line. I usually have a noticeable five o'clock shadow darkening the lower half of my face. I've gotten a lot of compliments on that as well. I don't do it on purpose, but my busy schedule doesn't always allot me the luxury of an assigned shower slot during the day. Between hang outs and dates, cologne and my striking smile are my two allies - and so far, neither one has failed me yet.

I don't want to come off strong, Diary. That's not my style. But it's the truth. And after Alien Girl gave me the run down about this meeting, and plans were actually put into affect - surprise, surprise - and she gave me the mic to speak to you, she only made me promise one thing. And coming from Alien Girl, that's a lot. She's never tried to control me, or any of us. So when she told me that I had to do one thing for her during our time conversing together, I was kind of taken aback.

"Since when do you have any say in what I talk to people about when I go out with them?" I asked. I was seriously weird with the idea that she would suggest anything to me about what I tell people when we're together. She'd never done anything like that before. It was almost like an invasion of privacy - no, it was an invasion of my privacy.

Alien Girl looked at me, straight-mouthed and serious. It was strange but nothing new. Her expressions had become so routine to me. "Just this one thing, Zeke."

"I just don't get why."

"Because, Diary is someone different. Diary deserves this."

I raised an eyebrow.

"It's important to me, Zeke. Just this one thing."

"Do you really think Diary is going to solve all of your problems?"

Alien Girl nodded. "Please. For me."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. I hate when girls try to cramp my style, especially when it involves my interaction with someone else. "Okay," I remarked irritably.

Alien Girl lifted her eyebrows in hopeful delight. "Promise?"

"Ugh," I cringed, shaking my head. "Yes, Hitler, I promise. I'll be completely honest."

Alien Girl smiled and threw her arms around me. "Thank you, Zeke. I knew that out of all of you, I could trust you the most."

It's hard not to be a people pleaser. It's expected of me. So naturally, I made it so. And I got another hug out of it. Sometimes being a guy has its benefits. But most of the time, it is a curse, especially with these ladies hanging around.