On any given day, I’d say 75% of it is taken up by thoughts about girls. Girls I’ve hooked up with, girls I want to hook up with, girls on Instagram, girls I see on the street. It doesn’t matter. It dominates discussions with coworkers and friends, and if you had a looking glass into my brain it would be thoughts about mostly food or sex. Not at the same time, obviously. Can’t be incorporating a turkey sandwich into a sex fantasy. But it’s not like I can help it, which is probably why most of my writing is about trying to have sex with girls. I’m not going to apologize for it. So let’s get into it.
Coming off a week and half of PTO, my first few days back in the cube have been nothing short of a living hell. That’ll happen when you throw the old out of office automated response on and butcher Bud Lights with reckless abandon for nine straight days. But like most Mondays and Tuesdays, I’ve already started looking forward to the weekend coming up, when I throw caution to the wind and tie one on with friends, acquaintances, and a lot of times just random strangers. However, this Tuesday, this particular Tuesday is special. I have reason to believe this could be an important weekend for me, unlike a standard one where I’m just browning out on domestics with other desk jockeys.
You see, about two and a half months ago, when college football was still in its infancy, I went to a brunch spot on Saturday morning that is known more for its ability to get people wasted than it is for serving quality food. Aside from a stray hair that I found in my mac and cheese, I had a fantastic time at said restaurant. It was a balmy 45 degrees, I had my favorite pair of Ray-Bans on and I had just paid 40 USD for an all you can eat buffet and unlimited Miller Lites, mimosas, and bloodies. It was somewhere around my third or fourth Andre-infused mimosa when my buddy introduced me to a girl that I’ve since become absolutely smitten with.
Within a half hour of meeting her, she was telling me about a cringe-inducing Tinder date she had just been on which involved her going back to the guys house only to find out that he lived with his parents. To counter, I told her about the time a girl I had met in person 6 hours previously had peed in a bed that I was sleeping in. We were hitting it off. In summation, I got her number that afternoon in early October.
The only problem? After asking her out on a date the weekend following, she shot me down. Well, she didn’t exactly shoot me down, but she told me she had a lot of work to catch up on that particular weekend, and that it wasn’t going to work on the date I suggested. And this is the major problem I have with getting a girls number while drunk at a bar. Upon receiving the number, I’ve always said that you have right around one week to ask the girl out before you both just sort of forget that you even have the number.
It’s a strange phenomenon, and I can tell you that a majority of the time, I don’t ever end up texting a girl that gives me her digits. It’s not because I don’t like the girl. It’s just that a lot of times I simply forget. And I definitely think it goes both ways. After a week, that number is useless to the both of you. She knows it, and so do you. One of the things on my 2016 to-do list is to delete a shit ton of numbers. I can estimate that I use a total of 15 numbers regularly. And that’s a liberal guess. The other 100 or so that I have from guys and girls go unused.
In this particular case, I took the rejection as a sign that she wasn’t interested and moved on. No big deal, getting denied is part of the game. You simply can’t win them all.
Now, I forgot about this little minx until December, when she randomly added me on Snapchat. I added her back, and after viewing one of her snap stories I reached back out via text. I asked how she was doing, and since she told me she would be in Mexico on vacation until the second weekend in January, I asked if she’d be up for a few cocktails when she returned.
At this point in my sordid tale, I can hear a lot of you laughing. Something along the lines of “John, clearly she’s going to forget about this. Between a one month all-inclusive stay in Mexico and the crazy boy band ass she’s most definitely getting at the resort, you’re through. Hang up the cleats and get on the bus.” And to this, I say, you’re all fools. I’ve been getting snaps of her poolside or sipping margs for the better part of two weeks now. And her return is imminent. My only problem is I don’t know whether to slow play this thing and wait a week before initiating, or texting her this week and seeing if she’s free for the weekend.
This is not your run of the mill Hinge/Bumble/Tinder date. I really like this girl. Can’t really put my finger on the reason. And I say that about a lot of girls, yes. Like, pretty much any girl that shows an interest in me. But there was something about meeting her, getting my shot blocked, and coming back down the court with a strong left handed layup that’s telling me she’s interested. The chase is almost better than the act of hooking up.
Hell, this could get me out of the dating game, which is both expensive and exhausting. Maybe this is my opportunity to hunker down for the long winter with one girl and see how things play out. She’s mysterious as fuck. She’s hot and cold on yours truly and I’m intrigued. I don’t have a lot of answers right now. It’s only Tuesday, after all. Only psychopaths have weekend plans on a Tuesday morning. But I’m like 40% sure I’ve got a trophy fish biting on my line, and whether it’s this weekend or next, I’ve got a good shot at reeling this in. I’ll take 40% all day. Updates coming as they develop. .
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