Confessions of A Naughty Girl

The One That Gets Away

It is inevitable: every time before I move, I meet someone great. It happened in college, and it's happened again. Except for this time, I am re-meeting someone, and now I have no shot. How depressing.

In college, I was a lab instructor for a class. It was a cool job, because not only could I get paid to freshen up my computer skills, but I could be around hot, young freshman and sophomore guys guaranteed for like, an hour or two every week. Hot, young guys who sought my help and undivided attention. Best job I ever had.

So my senior year, I developed a slightly unprofessional crush on a sophomore. And I wasn't sure whether he was smoking grass or what, but every time he was around me he'd get all nervous. Or at least I think he was nervous. And that made me nervous. Suffice it to say that our initial conversations were like two autistic children fighting over the last brownie at Sunday school. But alas - there was a total attraction. If you were to ask me what my ideal person looks like, I would name him. No joke.

In college, we talked for a little bit and spent a couple of times hanging out in my apartment, but the whole fling was sort of platonic. No action. And although my roommates insisted that he was no good for me, I kept at it until the semester ended and then I gave up on the whole thing and met someone else.

I've thought about him every now and then over the past three years. I even made a top ten list of the hottest boys I ever hung out with, and I believe he was somewhere on there. But anyway, last night, on one of my last hurrahs in Chicago, I was at the bar with Grant and assorted friends, and he magically appeared right before my eyes. I decided that, being the modern woman I now am, I would not let this opportunity pass me by, so I started talking to him. We started talking, and as luck would have it, he moved here a couple of months ago and is now living in my city. I almost pooped my pants when I found out, but anyway, we ended up hanging out the rest of the night. We watched Anchorman and ate pizza. It was seriously the best night I've had...in a long time.

It was one of those nights where you feel like such a loser because you are seriously so excited that you're hanging out with such a cool person, and you can't figure out why they are hanging out with you, and all of those Beverly Cleary teen angst moments apply, where you find yourself thinking things like, "I don't really want the night to end." This feeling has only happened to me a handful of times before, but it's frightening every time.

At any rate, I will confess that we spooned, which is not something that I am normally into. But I am either still drunk, or so foggy from my haze of being around someone so beautiful, that I have zero control of my actions at this time and cannot be held liable.

So the plan is to hopefully go out again before I leave. But before he left today, I seriously considered kidnapping him and putting him in my pocket forever. But it was 11:30 am and there was laundry to do.

Dude. I'm seriously f*cked.

posted by KA @ 12:11 PM