Turned Tables?

My best guy friend Porter has a friend, Dirk, who has become a part of our core group over the last couple of years. So we have developed a friendship as well. Nothing out of the ordinary. He's offered career advice and what not, and I'm pretty sure until recently he thought I was an out of control wild child. I've asked him to lunch, not thinking it was anything but platonic.

But then a few times he asked what I was doing and to hang out. Uh oh. Was he crushing on me and thinking my touchy nature meant I was flirting? Or just desperate for a new friend who was chatty and revealed her entire life story on one train ride? Not sure. He often made half-serious self-depreciating remarks and still whined over his ex-girlfriend a year later.

Seraphina tried to encourage me to go out with him. I was completely disturbed by this idea. Not only was he freakishly nerdy, he was very much like my dad. Some say this is a good thing. The similarities were not attractive. Especially since their wardrobes were almost exactly the same despite a thirty year age gap. And when I was bringing up all the reasons why I would NEVER date Dirk, Seraphina said "well, he doesn't like to go out".

DING, DING, DING! If that's not a red flag, then I don't know what is. Granted I'm not trying to date someone as crazy as I am (that would be toxic) but Dirk is the guy who sits in the corner alone! And cries over an ex? Even worse. It's just crazy to me that this one time a guy is maybe interested, and actually knows me for ME...Not the crazy girl at the bar, he's an utter disaster. No self esteem and an emo? No thanks.

Life Lessons

On a whim, I decided to order some dating advice books from Amazon.com. While I frequent the library, I am far too ashamed to check out Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man. I will keep y'all posted as to what tips these genius authors have to offer.

Jekyll & Hyde

So after my blackout hookup (does it qualify as a hook up?) with Cornell and thinking back on past situations that were not dissimilar, I have concluded that I am a drunk slut.

No, but really. Sober I am a good girl who can say no with conviction no matter how badly I'd like to get in a boy's pants. I'm smart, polite and even rather articulate. But drunk me lacks all control and logic, and is more often than not freakishly horny.

Bad? Not for the guys on the recieving end. But for me, the next morning is always a painful puzzle. I am missing sections and piecing together how one thing led to another and why my clothes are on the floor rather than my body. In college, I found this perfectly acceptable. But now, a year and a half after recieving that life-altering diploma, I am starting to lose respect for myself. While these hookups now occur once every few months, when I find an occasion worthy of drinking to forget, I am still bothered by the mere thought of it happening again. But yet, it always does. Sober me freaks out about what a horrible impression I've made and how publicly embarassing I probably acted. Nevermind the whole one-night-standish-thing: the being "easy". Too much liquid courage and all shame is out the door. I'd like to think others involved can separate these two me's from each other, but I know this is not the case. I'm just hoping that perhaps the new year will mean the end of my blackout hookups; that I've learned my lesson and I can start fresh. Unfortunately, there are a few too many guys who experienced me blackout and while I don't remember a thing, I'm sure they always will.

The Aftermath

I have already concluded that I crush too hard. Over the weekend after I texted Cornell (and his responses were normal), I wasn't feeling so full of regret. But now I keep thinking that I screwed it all up. I got drunk and publicly assaulted the kid, and gave most everything up the first time we hung out alone. I figure he won't be calling. I mean, why would he?

Obviously I can't turn back time. And had I not thought he were a decent guy, I wouldn't care. But I tried and then I messed up and I guess now I just have to deal with it. And try not to screw it up again when someone new comes along.

Minor Vindication?

I went out with Seraphina and her ex-but-current boyfriend last night, to the same place where Middlebury, Cornell and I had a snack and a shot. Figuring it couldn't hurt, I asked the waiter if perhaps a black velvet blazer had been left behind a couple nights before?

A moment later he appeared, a vision in an apron, toting my lost jacket.

So obviously I had to text Cornell to inform him.

He responded right away and we kept the convo short. But of course, he was just so damn sweet again. Perhaps I confuse his nice-ness with his liking me, I don't know. But now that my jacket has miraculously appeared (and Cornell acted normal via text), I feel slightly less filled with regret. Obviously, the post cocktail party behavior was not my best. But I am no longer out a hundred bucks, and I didn't have to feel like a pscyho when texting Cornell. Granted, I still hope he calls (he won't). And even if he still has my panties, I declare it his loss.

Cliche of the Day

Sometimes classy girls do unclassy things.

Just had to remind myself.

Oops, I Did It AGAIN

So, I acted as Cornell's plus one at this little cocktail party. Things went well: I looked great, my hair turned out surprisingly perfect, and he gave me a huge hug at the door when I arrived. And he was once again, wonderfully complementry and funny, as I expected. First stop: the bar. Strangely enough, they decided to serve the cocktails in giant glasses. I remained appropriate, calm, and sober for the duration of the party. But my lack of dinner and four enormous cocktails left me feeling pretty good when Cornell, a fellow coworker and I decided to take the party elsewhere.

We went to a restaurant, where Cornell and I split an appetizer. The boys insisted I have another cocktail, which I somewhat reluctantly agreed to. The other guy, Middlebury, decided it would be a great idea to order shots. Not to appear weak, I took mine like the champ I always think I am. The guys paid the bill and we went on to our next location.

This is where things get fuzzy.

All I can really remember is being in the back area of a bar I frequent regularly. Middlebury was floating around, I stood with Cornell. The next thing I remember is pulling him towards me by his tie and essentially raping him at the bar. Well, maybe not rape. I don't recall him protesting. But quite the classy move on my part. I was hoping my days of sloppy public makeouts were over. Wrong per usual.

Next thing I know, I'm naked and in his bed. We didn't have sex, but we (must have) messed around. I do remember him telling me I was hot on at least one occassion. And I think I tried calling him out on being a player, and he told me that was not true. Oh, the lines I fall for.

Eventually we passed out together, me obviously in no shape to drive home.

I awoke the next morning right around dawn, close to Cornell and needing the bathroom. I got up to go but I figured it was too early to leave so after I flushed, I got back in bed. Unfortunately, I couldn't sleep. Cornell turned over and spooned me for a while, but once he moved further away (and I saw the sun was coming up over the buildings outside), I crawled out of bed. I tried to be sneaky and not wake him, hoping to avoid an awkward goodbye.

My plan failed. Surprise!

I looked around and tried to gather my things, but I could not locate the jacket I had worn to the cocktail party over my dress. Speaking of dress, where was that? I spotted it across the room on the floor. My tights were strewn on a chair, and my coat was carelessly thrown on the couch. Shoes were easy to locate. But I still couldn't find that jacket. Cornell woke up and asked me if I was leaving.

Duh.

I told him about my missing jacket and he told me to turn on the lights. I did, but my jacket remained elusive. As did my black lace boyshorts. I told him I just had to go but he told me to take my shit with me. I told him this jacket was not find-able and that perhaps it was at the bar. He reminded me that I was pretty drunk the night before. Ouch? I threw my coat on, said see ya later (there's that awkward good-bye), and let the door slam behind me.

I was traumatized to be missing this jacket, since I had purchased it only a few days before. I prayed all of the next day for a text that it was under his couch or behind his bed, but none came. I called the bar before making a move. No jacket there. Finally, a little more than 24 hours after leaving his apartment, I inquired. No jacket at his place either. Evidently I threw $98 and my dignity away at the bar. Cornell was nice about it, always great at covering up his jerk-dom. I also told him that the other 'thing' I had left (panties), I wasn't concerned about. He'd figured. Thank goodness I at least wore sexy underwear.

So that was that. I did it again. I got blackout drunk and hooked up with a guy. But this one I actually LIKE(D) and would have definitely TRIED to play hard to get with. That is, had I had 5 fewer cocktails. WHYYY do I always do this to myself? Get wasted, aggressive, and he now probably thinks I am a whore. Which for all I know, he thought before anyway. But he just acts like such a sweetheart. He is still a frat guy, I suppose. And he did go MIA for an entire month. At least I have comfort in the fact that I most likely will never see him again, unless he initiates contact. Of course I am hoping he will, forgiving my drunken antics and for some reason wanting to hang out with me (and my apparently hot self) again. I want to think he actually might like me? As a friend? Piece of ass? Even more unlikely, given the whole disappearing act. I guess my worst fear has come true, and he is in fact, just like that guy who dropped off the face of the earth after getting (at least some of) what he wanted.

Second Time Around

Recently, I went to the city to celebrate Karlene's birthday, along with 20 or so of our closest college friends. Among those was a frat boy who I'd once had a fling with. Not exactly a fling. I had one of those weird nerdy-crushes on him and eventually one night we ended up drunk and in my dorm room. Clothes came off and one thing led to another.

Unfortunately this frat boy, let's call him...iBanker, had too much jungle juice and things just weren't happening for him. I tried to do what I could, but whiskey really had his dick. I don't exactly recall how the night ended. He may have slept over or he may have fled from embarassment. But, not surprisingly, he was often rather awkward when we ran into each other around campus.

But anyway, here he was at Karlene's big 2-3. Janelle didn't go to college with us, so she wanted the scoop on the guys in attendance. She commented on iBanker and I informed her that I had been there, done that. I looked around and tried to set my sights elsewhere.

This attempt failed and after a few drinks, I decided that iBanker deserved another shot. My friend Matilda also said rumor was he was well endowed. And I may or may not have been attracted to his shiny watch and well, title as an iBanker. So I put on my game face, and a few minutes later he was buying me a drink at the bar. Shortly after that, we were making out on the dance floor.

Whoops?

Then I was, alwasys easily persuaded, in a cab en route to his apartment, leaving Janelle and Korey to fend for themselves (sorry, girls). We chatted and smooched and I think we may have even held hands. He waved hello to his doorman and up to his apartment we went.

And OhMyGod was the second time better. We moved around, messed around, and I can in fact confirm Matilda's rumor.

I awoke the next morning, confused about my whereabouts until seeing iBanker's fraternity paddle. He wasn't in bed, so I gathered my things from the nightstand (read: earrings, thong, cell phone) and put my FMP's back on, preparing for the walk of shame. When I stood, it felt as though I had pulled a muscle in my hip area. Successful night? I think so.

iBanker was reading in his living room, and I'm sure it was something far beyond my scope of intelligence. He said he didn't want to wake me up and got up to peck me good-bye. I shut the door to the apartment, and slightly limped toward the elevator. Jacketless in November and wearing snakeskin shoes, I reluctanctly said good morning to the doormen (so much for sneaking out). But as I hid my face and walked to get a cab, I couldn't help but be happy it was better the second time around.

The Flashback

Remember that frat guy from school, who confessed his love to me? We would chat sometimes, and had amazing chemistry. He was a master of the hot and cold act. Then when I finally let him in and we slept together, he disappeared all together. Just keep that in your mind as you read ahead.

My temp gig ended a little over a month ago. On my last day, Cornell seemed to be sad I was leaving, texting across the office and popping over more often than normal. He said we should definitely get together, etc. So the following week, no longer working there, I boldly made a move and texted first. He responded with his normal wit and once again, suggested we meet up for a drink. I obviously agreed, and that was it.

Three weeks go by. And no word from Cornell, so I deleted all of our past texts along with his contact information so I would not be tempted to try again. And then, out of the blue he texted me, asking me how I was doing. This occurred on a Tuesday. Coincidentally, the company is having a cocktail party on Thursday. I had heard through the grapevine that he was bringing a guest, and I had decided I would not. Because of this, I was prepared for a rather awkward hello and an introduction to a girlfriend or something equally awful. So the texting went on a bit, he apologized for being out of touch with some lame excuse. I continued to delay and then finally he dropped a bomb. He said he was going to ask me to be his +1 to the cocktail party, but heard I was already going.

HUH? So I waited a couple hours and said I could act as his +1. He said something back but I stopped texting.

So he's popped back up in my life. Why? I'm not sure. My head tells me not to be excited, but I just can't help but to remember our effortless flirtation. My work pal was convinced something was going on between us, and while there was nothing, we concluded together that he's probably a bit of a player anyway. I'm definitely glad we can avoid an awkward encounter, but his disappearing act has me flashing back to that frat boy who so stereotypically got what he wanted and was never seen or heard from again.