(11/16/16) Dear diary,
– The beginning –
I have a crush on a total dreamboat who is weird, smart, witty, and we have a lot of mutual friends, so he must be relatively normal. And I swear, I’m going to do it right this time! I’ll play it cool, I won’t text him too much or too little, I won’t get too into him too quick, and I’ll be a real class act.
(11/20/16) Dear diary,
– Losing my cool –
Before we had the chance to go out on our first date, or even meet for the first time, I ran into him at a bar. I was heavily intoxicated and he looked really nice in a tux and by god I brought him home.
I threw up while he petted my cat. He lost his cufflinks, I lost my credit card.
Surprising to us all, he texted me the next day. Well, the next night. It was 10:30 pm–he was drunk and I was not.
“Put on The Big Lebowski,” his text read. “I’m coming over.”
I looked at myself in the mirror–greasy hair and baggy eyes, aftermath of the day-long hangover from our previous encounter–and said fuck it. Like actually, I said out loud capital F capital I “Fuck It” and my cat opened one judgmental eye in response and I let this boy come over.
On his way over, he sent me snapchats of him in the uber belting out Walkin’ On The Sun by Smash Mouth. This could be love.
He wanted to have sex and I said no, I don’t know you well enough. He told me about his family, how his mom came from a broken family, that he’s closer with his mom than he is with his dad, his likes and dislikes, and even his biggest fears.
“Do you know me well enough now?” he slurred.
“Knowing someone isn’t just about hearing their story,” I replied. “I need time to know what kind of person you are when you’re existing, not telling me how you exist.”
(12/03/16) Dear diary,
– Bar fights and sleepovers –
It’s a close friend’s birthday party and I invite this boy. We’ve been hanging out for long enough that I can give him a name: Reid.
He’s the most interesting boy I’ve met in this city so far. I’ve met his dog and he baked me a pie. I like him.
The first person I run into at this party is my ex. We’d been broken up for 9 months after dating for 3.5 years, so the awkwardness is still there, but the pain less so.
I give him the dreaded side hug and slip away to find Reid…Both boys are unbeknownst to each other. Yikes.
As the night progresses and the drinks keep pouring, I find myself by the bar with Reid’s hand around my waist and we’re making out (ugh). Suddenly, I hear “is this really what you FUCKING want?” from my left, and I turn just in time to see my enraged ex swinging at Reid.
It’s over in a few seconds as boys swarm and pull them apart. Reid is baffled at why this stranger is trying to fight him and I’m so humiliated I could melt into the ground.
Thirty minutes later, a text pops up on my phone: “I hope this is what you wanted because I will never speak to you again.” Okay dramatic ex. Okay.
Two days later, Reid and I both woke up with strep throat.
And even now, as I write this blog post, we have yet to go on our first date.