Dating / Mary Carmichael

He ate a flower.

Dear diary,

Boy do I have a story for you. I went with to a pregame last night with that cute (but flakey) guy I’ve told you about. And for the first hour, he was great. He spent the entire time talking to me despite every girl that walked in (of course they all seemed to know him). I was having a great time and honestly surprised.

But then I lost him for an hour. It was 1 a.m. and I was ready to go when he came stumbling in the door. He had been outside.

“Here pretty girl, here’s a flower I picked for you,” he slurred as he handed me a limp green stem with a purple daisy on top. One of those flowers that’s probably actually a weed. I took it. Dirt was still falling on the floor since he had hand-picked it out of the mud seconds earlier. “You’re beautiful, you deserve it.”

It was a cute-ish gesture. Emphasis on the ish. He was that guy who was so attractive you couldn’t help but swoon. The one who walks away and your new boss asks if you have a crush on him since you were grinning the entire conversation. The one who’s charming enough you pretend you’re 18 and make out with him in the middle of the bar despite the fact that he just used the same terrible line on you that he used when you made out for the first time (in college, when you were 18). The one who Facetimes you on Saturday morning shirtless in bed looking perfect and asks why he can’t see you as you lay there incredibly hungover in your pitch black living room.

But also that guy who, two years out of college, asks which frat party you wish you were going to tonight. Who tells you his favorite place in the world is that gross pool you went to together the summer before senior year. Who apologizes when you hang out for being too drunk the last three times you saw him. Who greets you at the bar with “I don’t deserve to be talking to you” since he accidentally left you stranded at a party where you didn’t know anyone the last time he asked you to hang out. Who hands you his ID as a “promise” he’ll come back and find you that night but gets distracted, and texts you two weeks later asking if he can have his ID back.

“Thanks,” I said as I held the flower a few inches away from me so dirt wouldn’t fall on my outfit before I even made it to the bar that night. Unfortunately, this was one of those nights he accidentally got way too drunk and this was that moment it became undeniably clear. Because less than ten seconds passed before he grabbed the stem I was holding, opened his mouth, bit off the flower, and ate it.

He ate it. He ATE the flower.

He chewed it as my friend, his friend, and I all stared at him. Mouths gaping. Eyes wide. Is he…wait…wait, what, he’s chewing this. What?

After struggling to swallow it, he said “Ew, that didn’t taste good.”

You THINK? You just ate a weed out of the DIRT.

I stood there dumbfounded as he stumbled out the door and invited me into the uber he was taking to the bar. This was that time the uber was full when he jumped in and it pulled away without him realizing he left me standing on the doorstep still speechless.

He texted me the next morning.

“I’m so sorry

really

lost my jacket, nd I woke up on my couch

Someone had too much to drink

Wasn’t even my fault!”

Xoxo,

Mary Carmichael

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