So a few weeks ago my friend Jameson brought me to The U (she goes to school there) for some partying, dancing and general chaos. Having not bee out of my apartment for more than a pint of Ben and Jerry’s the past few months and subsequently not seeing a specimen of the opposite gender, you could imagine I was pretty excited. I slipped on my best high rise black jeans and Brandy Melville tank (one size fits most my shapely bottom BTDubs) in hopes of beguiling the fellas. We skipped the ankle-snapping heels since The U is in fact situated in the middle of the forest—and as every respectable college lady knows, uneven ground + heels + alcohol = young, beautiful corpse. After the first party gets busted, we end up at someone’s apartment with some thirty odd other coeds. It wasn’t Project X, but things were looking pretty groovy and, best of all, the wine had settled in.
While Jameson talks to people she knows in the living room I am left to my own friend-acquiring skills. A few awkward conversations later I had made some drunken friends. Then I spotted him, the only male at the party with a beautiful face and a bod to match. He was a little on the shorter side but who was I kidding? It was the best I would get for the night. We had had a few casual run ins and witty comments when I made the mistake of telling Jame and her guy friend (who is actually in love with her so I got to hear about that for a while earlier—why do guys think you want to hear about how great your friend is? It’s like, yeah I know, I chose her) that I was interested in this fox.
Word to the wise: a setup is always a bad idea. Did you get
that? ALWAYS. It will never work out in your favor then you end up looking like
a desperate tween who has never been kissed and is way too over eager.
And
that’s exactly what happened. So Jame’s friend is all “Oh yeah Mr.Sexypants is
my friend, I’ll introduce you!” RED FLAG. Meanwhile I’m getting the wide eyes
from Jameson that clearly say “Put it back in your pants or I’m not associating
with you.” Great, now I feel pathetic and desperate, and yet the wheels are
already turning and her friend’s mind (clearly in order to impress her). So now
I have one guy on the hunt for the other, meanwhile I’m trying to pull out the
“Oh it’s really not a big deal please don’t say any—no, please—uh no oh my God
don’t do tha—oh there he goes, oh he’s coming over. Shit.
So
Jameson’s friend flags down Mr. Sexypants
and states casually “Have you met Steph?” to which Mr. Sexypants replies, “No, I
haven’t.” At this point he’s literally right next to me. So Jame’s friend thing
tells him who I am, then says we want to hear him sing (apparently he has a
lovely singing voice). Jame and I throw out the dear-in-the-headlights looks,
and trying simultaneously to make a recovery and keep the conversation afloat,
I tell him I want a full on serenade (when in doubt start making jokes).
THEN—and this is where the wine kicks in—I tell him I want him down on his
knees. Mr. Sexypants looks both frightened and excited in my opinion, and
laughs. I continue on with some sort of “Yeah, totally” phrase when I slowly
start to her Jame and her friend from behind me going “Oh, no. Oh no stop
digging, stop, just—just stop.”
Mr.
Sexypants turns and glides away, out of my clutches forever. We still aren’t
sure if he heard the comments or not, though considering he was RIGHT IN FRONT
OF ME it seems pretty logical that he could catch comments coming from two feet
away. And thus ends my only dip into the wonderful world of romantic
connections.
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