Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Laxer Radar

My stress over this situation is so not worthy of a post, but whatever, write it out right?

Alright, so like, two years ago when I started working at my bar (fuck, been there WAY too long) I was introduced to this dude via my bar's owner. I had spotted him eating dinner, he knew the owner, low and behold dude had played lacrosse at Georgetown. I seriously have radar for this shit, I swear tot God. Which meant two things - one, he and I knew way too many of the same people, and two, dude was more than likely exactly my type.

Truth to both.

He was a typical, preppy, private school, tall, Irish, hot, rich laxer. And for the first time in a long time, I wanted to bag him, not just bone him.

We make plans to chill, shit falls through, eventually he gets flakey and I find out he's like, patching shit up with his ex girlfriend, who in her own right, was pretty fuckin' hot.

I then pull a Harvard Crazy on him, and text him like 30 times trying to make something work. I admit, I went totally batshit, and I have no idea why. By far not the hottest dude I've ever met, by far not the only guy who's ever blown me off. But for some reason I got a little too shady and eventually we stopped talking. I was actually pretty embarrassed after I regained my "this isn't funny anymore, this is crazy" sensibility back.

Dude walked into my bar tonight. Thankfully, I have on a bangin' outfit. I looked pretty fuckin' hot, if I do say so myself.

We get to talking, I'm running out to catch my train, he stops me.

He proceeds to ask me if I'll be around after the holiday because he'd like to grab a drink. He'd like to hang out. It's been way too long. We're way overdue for a drink.

I know he's not with the hot gf anymore, that shit's been done for a while (thanks, Facebook). But dude blew me off once, and there was probably a reason, and I feel like he's going to flake so now I'm getting my hopes up for NOTHING.

I never get like this over boys. Really...for the most part I'm a bang 'em and leave 'em type of chickie. The only guy I can remember getting worked up over in the last couple years has been soccer kid. He was the only one I was like, planning on marrying, moving to Europe for, and having 12 babies with. And like I've said, I've banged way hotter, more successful dudes with better personalities. But this one has me a little bit flustered, and I'm pissed about it. I hate over thinking it. Especially for a laxer. So lame. SO, LAME. The next two weeks I'm gonna be all "Fuck are the holidays over yet??!?" like that chick from He's Just Not That Into You where she keeps staring at her NON RINGING PHONE. That'll be me. But thinner and with better hair.

Fucking lacrosse. This shit was supposed to be done and DONE when I graduated college. It finds me, it's like I have radar to just pick out the dudes who are the dbag typical laxers that I want to marry. But I really don't because all those dudes end up being fat, wearing terrible plaid pants, and cheating on their wives who are too fucked up on pills to notice. (My town was an awesome place to grow up in). But at the same time, I'd totally date this dude.

What the fuck. I need a vacay now, and soccer hottie's unattached, no strings penis. Fuck.

PS - that picture is a very typical face I make when I think too hard over a really stupid situation.

1 comment:

  1. I love your honesty. Hell, I'm exactly the same and I tend to like the ones that don't like me back, why? I hate my life.

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