I've Answered My Own Question

I must say, I looked absolutely fabulous at Drexel's graduation party. The one where I realized I might be a bit too promiscuous to keep my Good Girl Single Friend rep in tact. My friends were very complimentary and I noticed a certain guest giving me a particularly intense gaze for most of the night.

This is not to say I went in with the intention of getting blackout drunk or hooking up with anyone.

But once again, my good intentions rarely mean anything after a beer or seven.

I was pretty social and made the rounds. Liquid courage may have caused me to say things a little sillier than before I chugged that fifth Bud Heavy, but I continued drinking. Wrongly thinking I can handle my liquor as always.

It quickly got dark and we all gathered around the bonfire.

Once the sun went down, my memory seems to have shut down as well. I vaguely recall talking to my friend Drexel's 19-year old little brother, but not totally throwing myself at him. However, my sources tell me that I was sitting on the Little Brother's lap. And then our chair fell over. But instead of getting up (and retaining any dignity), we had a full on make out session on the lawn. Rolling around like little squirrels is how I picture it. This explains the various cuts and bruises I have found on my legs in the days following this alleged incident.

Fast forward to 5:59 AM Sunday morning. I woke up and was surprised to find myself in a bed. I looked around to make sense of my surroundings, and the first things I saw were...Oh No.

A condom wrapper and my panties, staring at me from the hardwood floor.

OH.

MY.

GOD.

I looked at myself under the covers and noticed that I was still wearing a bra. One less thing I'd have to gather up. I quietly put my dress back on to sneak out of the room. I texted my best friend Seraphina to inform her of my little blunder, and realized I was also unable to locate my shoes.

Clearly I would not be able to make a quick escape.

Surprisingly, Seraphina was awake at this unGodly hour, so I snuck downstairs, climbing over my friends and their various passed-out bodies. I consulted Seraphina, who was quite amused at the fact that the Little Brother is younger than my little sister. We tried to figure out what I should do next. Korey was upstairs with Drexel and we drove to the party together. I called her despite the fact that it was now only 6:30 am. I think I was still drunk and that is the only way I can justify such phone calls.

Korey was not happy to be woken up and I remained shameful and shoeless in Drexel's house. Joining my friends on the floor looked rather painful so, against Seraphina's advice, I was forced to retreat upstairs to the Little Brother's room. Thankfully I passed out for another hour or so.

Waking up with the Little Brother wasn't awkward. We chatted briefly and went downstairs together, getting a few laughs from my now-awake friends scattered in the living room. Having no idea how I got to his room, I figured everyone now knew what happened (if they didn't before). Bottles of water were passed around to nurse our hangovers and we all discussed dreading our various drives home. Korey and I located my shoes and then said good-bye to Drexel's parents and...the Little Brother.

Who said he was sure that we'd talk again soon. Nice one, Lil Bro. As if.

But my number is now apparently increased by one. At that very party causing me to question my sluttiness. Signs are pointing to yes.

Waiting for Prince Charming

Korey recently broke up with a...psycho with bi-polar tendencies. To put it delicately. He was Mr. Right Now and when they talk now it's always cruel bickering. She has concluded she liked the idea of having a boyfriend (at the time) more than thinking they were destined to be together forever.

She now realizes after settling for him that she'd like to fall for the right guy next time. Prince Charming.

As I have said previously, I do not want to settle for anyone. And I'm glad Korey has now adopted a similar attitude. This person does not have to become my husband or anything, because the idea of marriage or anything like that is totally over my head. But it's funny, because my dear friends Janelle, Seraphina, Belinda and I always end up talking about "husband-hunting" (to quote Janelle) and the future.

Scary right?

As the perpetually Single Friend, I have always joked that I am never going to get married. If so, I picture myself being not unlike Katherine Heigl's character in 27 Dresses. I even have the over-stuffed leather day planner. But when discussing who of us 4 BFFs would end up married first, Janelle concluded that it would be me. I made some sort of sarcastic comment, but she said she thinks some guy will just "sweep me off my feet and that would be it".

I realized she might not be so far off. I just don't want to date someone for the sake of doing it, if I don't have real feelings for them. Although the idea of my Prince Charming coming is a bit unrealistic, Korey and I think that he has got to be out there somewhere. No one is perfect and we understand this. But why not wait and see?

Guilty Conscience

This weekend I went out in the city to celebrate Seraphina's birthday. Belinda's boyfriend met us at the bar and introduced me to his friend, let's just call him Vineyard Vines. They had been trying to set me up with VV for quite some time because he was apparently funny, smart and "totally my type".

VV and I made some attempts at conversation. I was bored (and much more interested in my friend who came to meet me) so I bopped around the bar and didn't pay him much mind. Not a long while later, I was feeling guilt tripped by Belinda's boyfriend so I tried to talk to him. He bought me a drink. We briefly chatted about our jobs. The conversation was forced, and he did not crack a joke or a smile. Clearly not funny at all. Uninterested, I then wandered off to chat with Aurelia. On my way back, VV just went in for a kiss. Drunk and confused, I let him give me a little peck but continued walking.

I wandered back and forth between him and my other friends, and then he tried smooching me again. I wasn't feeling it, but in my attempts to be nice I stood near him anyways.

At which point he started trying to finger me outside of my fabulous white jeans.

Um. Ew?

I moved away but he pulled me back and tried again. Then began asking me to go home with him. I told him no, and he asked again. As if I had given him some sort of indication by pulling away that I wanted to go home with him! Although I found the fact that he was left handed rather sexy (and enjoyed his preppy ensemble), that's where my attraction ended. I had no desire whatsoever to talk to this character at the bar, nevermind wake up next to him the following morning. I was perturbed by his behavior and majorly turned off to the idea of meeting a friend's boyfriend's friend after that. And I felt like I was in high school being publicly felt up OUTSIDE of my pants (This is better than if his hands were inside my pants but then again I would have had much more control over that happening). I really have no idea what in his drunken mind thought that this would in fact, persuade me to go back to his apartment. But I do know that next time I am not interested in someone, I'm not letting guilt lead me back to him.

The Fear of Commitment?

I was recently talking to a friend about what will happen when The Single Friend does in fact, become The Attached Friend.

While I often laugh about never wanting this to happen, this is not necessarily the case. This friend even suggested to me I get together with a few of the different guys at the party. I told him the ones he selected were not my type. Which obviously prompted him to ask my type.

Tall? Pretty eyes? Reasonably built? I don't really have a type at all, unless you ask Seraphina and Belinda, who often mock my attraction to the country-club metrosexual. (Read: pastels, polos, khakis and loafers). But this is probably because the majority of the guys at my college dressed in such attire. I gave my friend some BS answer and tried to change the subject.

Luckily the conversation progressed from me onto other things. But I realized that there are a number of reasons I will likely remain The Single Friend for quite some time.

One is that I think very highly of myself. I am truly a catch, so I really see no reason to bother with some sub-standard guy. Call me critical, but I just have incredibly high standards. A man needs to be able to match my wit, have some sort of brain and understand how unbelievably fun I am.

The other issue is that I have an emotional wall that is probably equal in size to the Great Wall of China. I have a difficult time letting people get to know the "real me" versus the "public party me". Janelle has told me time and time again to break down the wall, and I know I will have to at some point. But perhaps the person who can break it down has not come into my life yet. I also have a fear that if I do commit to someone, there is always that chance of something better. Or that, like has happened in the past, when I like someone enough to date them, something will go terribly wrong and I will have nothing to show for my time. I guess I've just got a major fear of commitment.

Does That Make Me A...?

This weekend, I attended a college friend's graduation party. It was mostly new and recent alumni from my sorority and our (essentially) brother fraternity. There were maybe 30 of us at any given point. I was thrilled to see everyone. We all caught up and chatted about this and that, reminiscing about funny college stories and laughing about hating our jobs (or for new grads, being unemployed).

While sitting casually and sipping my beer, I looked around at the crowd. I then realized that I had slept with 1...2!? People at the party. Yikes.

Does that make me a....slut!?

My addiction to frat boys is nothing that I did not know. I think I had also made out with at least two or three boys at the party as well, no big deal. And really, a couple of the times I slept with the boys it was really unavoidable. I had to lose my V-card at some point, right? And another one of the boys was on our fabulous senior trip to the Bahamas. We were on vacation! I just wonder if the boys also realized how many of us have shared partners. Or if they have any sort of opinion on it. Luckily, I am not the sluttiest of our sorority sisters by any means. I can at least consider these boys my friends and hope they have some amount of respect for me.

It's a Small World...

On Memorial Day, my friends and I decided to hit up a beach bar. While the subpar crowd was a bit of a turn off at first, we made the best of it by starting the morning off with some shots of tequila and Red Bull Vodkas. The Ed Hardy-wearing, tattoo-bearing crowd looked much less toolish after a few of these various cocktails, and we began to loosen up.

While back and forth between the bar and perfectly placed table we grabbed, I kept my eye out for someone (anyone) who might be more my type than a boy wearing a rhinestone-studded t-shirt. Luckily, I spotted a tall blond wearing no shirt at all (and some dark Prada sunglasses). For some reason, he looked strangely familiar. I swore he resembled someone I saw at the indoor/outdoor bar the night before. I kept my eye on him while I waited for the perfect opportunity to pounce.

Unfortunately, I am not quite sure how exactly our conversation began. I vaguely recall standing by the bar. And at some point I asked him if he was at the bar the night before. He assured me he was not, but did tell me we'd met before. I was dumbfounded, and was pretty positive I had never seem this man before in my life.

Until that is, he told me that we'd met at the bar once and he was from this lame and faraway town. Ah yes, Mike. I did remember you. He was the very character who inspired my entry regarding boys who ask for your number but fail to (ever) call. So I told him that yes, in fact, he was familiar but never did use that phone number. He apologized and I accepted the rather insincere I'm Sorry and suggest he buy me a drink.

Mike claimed to have lost his wallet except for a $5, so he purchased his own drink and I purchased mine. (Why I let this happen, I will never know). We exchanged numbers again. He then put his hand down the back of my bikini bottom and started telling me what a great ass I had. This I already know, so I giggled flirtatiously and tried to pull his hand out. While the crowd was lacking any level of class, I did not want to succumb to this tacky display, complementary or not. I laughed about it a couple more times and then wandered off to enjoy my friends.

I frolicked with my friends for an undetermined amount of time and my phone began vibrating repeatedly. Mike was calling. Interesting. He told me to come to the beach. I told him I would in a bit. Five minutes passed and he called again. Wow, someone really enjoyed my ass. After a bit of persuasion from Mike, I told Janelle I was off to the beach for a little rendezvous in the sand.

I found Mike, sitting on his previously abandoned towel. We started making out almost immediately. Between smooches, I pulled off his sunglasses because I was obsessed with his sexy blue eyes. Since we weren't far from the bar, we had an audience. He told me that the girls about 15 feet away from us were jealous of me. I quickly became uncomfortable with the idea of being watched. Mike grabbed my hand and we walked down the beach.

On our two-minute walk to a less populated area, I found out that Mike is 27, an engineer, and went to UConn. All very interesting. We settled back into making out, but I was still weary of the teenagers within earshot and the family sitting out on their deck. I went along with the making out until my top fell off (eek!) and Janelle told me our friends were trying to leave. I scurried back to our stuff and bid Mike good-bye.

Unlike after our initial meeting, Mike made (over)use of my number for the remainder of the evening. He called and texted for our entire ride home and then some. He kept trying to get me to come to his faraway apartment (despite the fact that I was in no condition to drive). I put him off and pretended I was considering it for a while, until I finally told him "No" a solid two and half hours after I got home. This was the last bit of communication between the two of us.

Which is totally fine. And I completely understand him trying to get in my pants (or in this case, my fabulous bejeweled bikini). It's just so strange that I ran into him and he remembered me. And I made out with him on the beach for so long, almost getting abandoned. I had a "moral hangover" the next day for fitting in far too well with the trashy beach bar crowd. Norbert assured me that I am too hot to have such thoughts, and not to regret my sandy session. Now that a week has passed, I don't. But it's still so odd? Annoying? That the guy who didn't call was the one I ended up on the beach with three months later. I'm glad he was at least hot. But he still never called the next day.

The Eye F***er

Last Sunday, I went to an indoor/outdoor bar with my cousin Frieda and her friend in celebration of the long weekend. We got there early and tried to mingle with the crowd. My cousin saw a lot of familiar faces since she runs a local grocery store/deli with my uncle. She said hello to some of them and we went on our way. To the bar, of course, where we enthusiastically accepted two rounds of drinks from my cousin's much-older man-friend. While waiting for the shots to be ordered and poured, I scanned the crowd to find the night's victim. I was disappointed with what I saw. Except when turning my head toward the bar (for the shots that had finally arrived), there was a tall, reasonably attractive guy staring right at me. I made eye contact, gave half a smile and turned back to the bar. I took my Red Headed Slut like a pro and looked up, only to see his eyes still dead locked on me. I even looked over my shoulder to see if he was checking out someone else, but no. Totally eye f---ing me.

Let's set the scene. He was standing with a guy and a girl. I tried to figure out if the girl was his girlfriend. I hoped not for two reasons. One being that eye f--ing is not something I take lightly. The other being the girl standing with him had a terribly botched nose job, which left her with an uncanny resemblance to Miss Piggy. I pointed this eye f---er out to Frieda, who confirmed that I was not imagining this. She also found it hilarious. And happened to regularly sell lunch to Eye F---er's friend.

Frieda took the reins and after quick lap, we wandered over. I forced her to introduce me to this customer and his Eye F---ing friend (and avoided Miss Piggy). I shook Eye F---er's hand and he said "Hi, I'm (whatever his name was)". And that was it.

Alright, maybe the Eye F---er wasn't interested. Or thought I looked familiar, and upon hearing my name knew I was not. Whatever it may be, he made no attempts at small talk.

After that went totally wrong (and Frieda scolded me for forcing her into a mildly awkward situation), we ran into a friend from high school's ex-boyfriend. We were catching up with him, only a few steps from the Eye F---er. Whose eyes I felt burning holes through my fabulous hair with his (still) incredibly intense stares. Seriously?

What the f--- was with the Eye F---er?! If he found me so irresistible that he couldn't stop staring, why the heck couldn't he have moved the conversation past the introduction?

The...Sweaty Stranger?

I am not much of an athlete, but I do make (weak) attempts at getting in shape. My workouts are normally limited to one hour at Planet Fitness. I work out better with a friend, whose comfort I seek by sticking by her on the treadmill or following her to the stretching mats. Point blank, I feel slightly out of place at the gym. Maybe it's my lack of athleticism or my aversion to working out. But one thing does keep me motivated and keeps me going back.

Eye candy.

Not only does eye candy remind me of why I am at the gym in the first place, but it makes the dreadful idea of being at the gym much more enticing.

I will admit, although I look far from my best at the gym, I strut around like nobody's business. Perhaps it is because I take comfort in my pretty awesome legs (and make it a point to wear shorts). I do feel eyes following me when I walk by the male-dominated weights section. This is all fine and dandy. I like checking out my fellow gym-goers and I'm glad they reciprocate. Except is it inappropriate to take it beyond a casual gaze?

I am not so sure. I love the idea of admiring that man lift a barbell heavier than my entire body, but do I want to initiate a conversation with him? Or is he concentrating so hard on tearing his muscles that the idea of chatting with an attractive woman is far too much? How about when they stare me down as I walk by? Is just a smile sufficient? Or is it really worthwhile to play dumb and ask how to use a machine? (Although I wouldn't necessarily be pretending in this situation). I'd like to think that the gym is a better place to meet a guy than say, a random pub on a Thursday evening. Except I still question whether or not I want to talk to a guy when I'm gross and sweaty from forty minutes on the treadmill. Or if he will want to talk to me, looking oh-so-flushed and frizzy.

There are just so many factors- Most everyone is wearing headphones, so you can't just make a casual comment about how "crowded" the gym is today. What about that guy you know you've seen around? Is it weird to say you think you know him from somewhere? Gym etiquette, especially in terms of flirting, is still quite foreign to me. Hopefully tonight I won't have to worry about initiating the conversation at all, and one of those sexy men working his triceps will talk to me.

To Friend or Not To Friend

For the majority of us, Facebook has become as integral a habit as brushing our teeth. Some people even find it necessary to post a status detailing that they are in fact, brushing their teeth. I personally take the middle ground approach when it comes to revealing information and photos of myself. I have nothing to hide, after all.

In the early days of Facebook, it was perfectly acceptable to Friend Request a stranger or Poke the cute guy in class. That time has passed, and now Facebook Etiquette is like a whole new set of Commandments.

Say you meet someone at a bar. A friend of a friend. This person is attractive but you didn't really talk. Creepy to Friend them? Probably.

Say you meet someone at a bar. A friend of a friend. You talked all night. Creepy to friend them? Probably not. Desperate? Could be.

I bring up the ever-present issue of Facebook after my friend was telling me about a new boy she met while studying abroad. He is friends with some of her good friends, and she thinks he's incredibly hot. She invited him to an after party of sorts at her apartment, and he accepted. Only to disappear a few minutes later. She saw him a couple days later and he invited her out with him and his friends, but he had gone by the time she got ready. She heard through their mutual friend he might be interested. So should she take the plunge and Friend him? Or try to remain aloof?

The Friend Request is such a simple action but can mean so many things. If you friend too soon, you may appear desperate. But if you wait too long, the person you Friend may have forgotten about you or find it strange that you waited so long. Writing on someone's wall opens up a whole new can of worms, so I will save those thoughts for a rainy day. But the same principles apply. Facebook must be dealt with on a case-by-case basis.

Just like in the real world, virtual friendships are simply not black and white.

Too Aggressive?

My freshly single and sexy Latina friend Marisol was out with some fellow single friends. They were at a loungey-type bar where the crowd was pretty chill, mostly twenty-somethings. After failed attempts to get a dance party started, Marisol got bored. She perused the crowd and although no one caught her eye, she hoped she could initiate contact to maybe help out a friend.

She approached a group of four skinny but average looking guys. The only potentially frightening thing about them was their too-tight clothes, giving them a wannabe Eurotrash look. But Marisol, feeling brazen, was undeterred and went over to chat with them. Rather than make small talk and discuss their jobs or the weather, the first boy cut to the chase. This miniature Shrek started talking about his religion. And how he wore rings on certain fingers as part of his religious tradition. Marisol drunkenly pretended she was interested, but did not want to discuss religion in any capacity. So she asked to be introduced to his friends. They tried to avoid her gaze, but Marisol persisted. She began talking to one of the wallflowers, who looked rather prepubescent and had a haircut usually reserved for poodles. Poodle began blabbering about his travels to various cities in Asia. A few minutes into this fascinating travel tale, Poodle said to Marisol, "Wow, you're really aggressive".

Marisol was dumbfounded by this remark. He clearly mistook her being friendly for aggressive, since Marisol did little to indicate any aggression. She did not offer her phone number or make any attempts at physical contact. What she said could barely even be taken for flirtatious. Strange.

So Marisol, still persistent, ignored his comment and made one last-ditch effort with the wallflowers. She began talking to another one of the boys, who could have easily been mistaken for a long lost Jonas Brother. Instead of travel or religion talks, this one began whispering in Marisol's ear. In what sounded very much like a made up language. What? Marisol said. And he did it again. She rolled her eyes and began to turn away, when she heard Jonas whisper something to Poodle about how "she didn't like that very much". So Marisol called him out on how he just spoke English. They snickered. And Marisol curtly said, "Goodbye BOYS" and turned and walked away.

Poor Marisol. What an incredibly bizarre exchange. If being called aggressive was not bad enough, these lame wallflowers went so far as to pretend to speak foreign tongues to get her away. What I do not understand however, is why they would want to freak out a girl so wonderful as Marisol. She claims they weren't physically moving away from her, and that their body language was neutral. So she has gone so far as to say she thinks they were enjoying this awkward (to say the least) game. What a bunch of freaks.