CHECK OUT MY NEW JEWELRY LINE –> GOLDEN LOVE DESIGNS
The first time we met we hugged, and five minutes later his friend accidentally knocked the drink out of his hand and onto my tan, suade boots. It was a good start, considering we had chatted only a few times on the dating application, to what would turn out to be an adventurous 3 weeks.
His chest tattoo, one of many and precisely the reason I was so excited to meet him, peeked out from underneath his v-neck, and I mentally high fived myself. In my three years at college I had yet to meet a guy with tattoos.
We slurped each others personalities up like we slurped the colored alcohol from the three $6 margaritas that we ordered. Tipsy, but immediately latching onto each others rebellious personalities, we were already getting in trouble for sitting at the wrong table in the busy Mexican restaurant. I successfully flirted with the nervous preteen server who quietly gave us permission to continue our premature infatuation with each other at the illegal dinner setting.
Aggressive sips of our strawberry tinted alcohol led into 2 hours of story time and flirtatious hand groping, and friends of both mine and his came over to ask if we were surviving. “I think he’s an asshole, but I like him. He’s fun!” I would say. Was the sober part of me trying to send out an SOS, knowing that although I was giggling, the insurgent-quickly turned criminal stories he was telling me set off a siren inside my head. Not in school? Okay. Don’t have a job? Whatever. All these details bypassed my filtration system. I labeled him a “grand ole time” and grabbed his hand to leave.
Feeling loose, we trudged through the snow to a local bar and danced like teenagers on an open dance floor. We (although I say ‘we’ tentatively as I later found out that he didn’t remember composing it) made a list on his phone of rules. Sensing that the alcohol was blurring the boundaries between two strangers, I instructed that I could only be kissed on the cheek, that he could not drink too much, and that he could not touch me anywhere inappropriate; rules that went duely unnoticed. Like the actual enforced legal laws he said to have once broken, he was breaking my personal rules, but tingling with spontaneity (and a hint of an alcohol induced buzz), I let it slide.
As the bar turned on its lights to my horror, revealing my red and sweaty face, I was quick to peck him goodbye, and skip out the door, latching onto the hand of a friend. Of course I raved about him on the walk back to the dorms, but I wanted to leave with an air of mystery, a sense of desire, a need to embark on the chase- you know, like all girls wish to do.
“You are fun!” he texted me about 10 minutes later, and then told me he was driving home…drunk. Bad decision number one and an absolute turnoff. And so the complications began.
1. French Connection Fast Metalika Skirt $188 2. Ariel Gordan Rose Cut Opal Ring $495 3. Zara Wedge Sneaker $129 4. LuLu Frost Necklace $250 5. Trapeze Top $20 6. Gorjana Star Studs $35 (find similar here and here) 7. Topshop Moto Fringe Stud Hotpants $70 8. Madewell Chelsea Boot in Calf Hair $240 9. Topshop Ponyhair Bar Purse $40 10. French Connection Grand Adventures Bomber Jacket $178 11. Topshop Geo Dangle Earrings $28 12. Topshop Short Brim Fedora $50 Zara Combined Leather Coat $100
I don’t know men’s shoes. Women have an array of options from heels to flats, boots, booties, oxfords, ballet flats, wedges, clogs, sandals, stilettos, pumps, kitten heels, boat shoes and sneakers. So, I did myself a favor and Googled the names of mens shoes and discovered that last night I went on a date with a guy that wore a combination of hiking boots and loafers. I could not find the precise word for his footwear just as I could not find the precise description of how the date went. We met for coffee at 9 p.m. That seems obscure but was a non-issue considering we are college students and he was busy doing homework and I was busy watching the Kardashians and painting my nails all day. Anyway, we had met a couple weeks before at a party and really vibed, but of course, with alcohol involved, even Nicki Minaj and Mariah Carey could vibe. So I forced myself to evaluate the situation sober, sipping on some jasmine green tea (oh how dainty of me but really, I only had $2 on me so my options for some kind of overpriced, whipped up latte, no fat, no sugar with an extra shot of diva were slim).
The overall consensus was this: he was cute and funny and I enjoyed my time. However, when I got home I couldn’t stop thinking about all the dumb stuff I had sad. Considering this was my first real date with someone I didn’t particularly know well, my skills were unpolished. I realized quickly I probably shouldn’t have told him my family was “dysfunctional” or that my brother was an asshole. How horribly negative of me. Sure, my family is dysfunctional but that’s really nothing of note considering that 1. I accept it and 2. whose isn’t?- except for apparently his. So that set the mood off just great! One of my biggest flops was basically telling him that I hated his hair in one of his Facebook profiles and that his musical choice of the blues sucked. Both of these statements were true, but should have been saved until at least 3 months of dating. He talked about both of his brothers and I think I seemed a tad more interested and enthused about their lives, which were ridiculously awesome, than I seemed every time he would talk about his own life. Crap.
And then a really awkward moment came up when I asked if his roommate was offended when my friend and I said, the night before, that he looked like Clay Aiken… “Clay Aiken is gay,” I said. He asked if I was homophobic. Jesus Christ. Obviously, what I meant by that was some oversensitive people become all dramatic when you compare them or their looks to someone who happens to be gay, which, if you think about it, would make them seem homophobic. But in this scenario, absolutely no one was homophobic but rather the opposite and I had to spend the next five minutes explaining how some of my good friends were gay and that I freakin’ loved them. Shit.
After briefly mentioning my ex-boyfriend, venting about a friend that was getting on my nerves, and telling him I don’t know much about politics, religion or geography, I told him that he “didn’t need to walk me back” and I meant it- he didn’t need to. Honestly, I just wanted to run away to my room as I was already 3 feet into a deep analyzation of all the mistakes made over the last 2 hours. I was in more panic than I was before I got there. He seemingly happily complied, we hugged, and he said “we should do it again.” And that made me laugh.