Confessions of A Naughty Girl

Marx Was Left, Stalin Was Right, But I Am Ambivalent

Conundrum: on Sunday night, I went out with my friend Amy. I'm sure many of you know of, or even know Amy, as she has become a very welcome, regular fixture in my new surroundings.

Amy and I were quite unsuccessful in our manhunt. We went in with full makeup and cute outfits, all set out to woo and impress good-looking guys, and came out with bellies full of calamari, vino - lots of vino. There was also a random episode of Cabernet McDrunky and not-so-projectile vomit on the side of my car at the Taco Cabana drive-thru, but I digress.

Anyway, we met up with some of Amy's friends, and I spent the better half of the last few hours at Apres Diem talking to one of them. He was cute. Nice, even. But I was kind of tired of the scene at that point and just wanted to go home and pass out, so I let down my guard. I was working my D- game - throwing out my very worst fliratious lines - that I didn't think he would possibly even take me seriously. Honestly, I was just f*cking with the guy, really. But, per the usual, it totally backfired.

After the obligatory exchange of phone numbers, he actually called my bluff and called me tonight. And I feel terrible, because I have absolutely no feelings for him one way or the other. Well, actually, I'm lying. I kind of liked the fact that he is a part-owner of a Dairy Queen (ahhh the smell of an Oreo Blizzard...just rocks my socks off right now). I mean, free Blizzards are nice, but could I even stand to look him in the eye the next morning? I just don't know.

Rare is the occasion that I find myself completely ambivalent to someone's affections. Per my post earlier tonight, I can usually tell right off the bat if the guy is f*ckable or not. (I think more like a man...this has already been established.) Two good examples:

Dustin Diamond: Not do-able. I never liked Screech, even when he was with Violet, which was a simple, yet pathetic ploy by the "Saved By The Bell" producers to show Screech's soft side.

Brad Pitt: Call me. Call me, call me, call me.

The guy from Sunday: Hmm...smooth vanilla goodness with sprinkles???

(Unrelated tangent: Remember when Dairy Queen had a "sister" restaurant called "Brazier"? What the hell was it, how the hell do you pronounce it, and what the hell happened to it? Five bucks via PayPal to the first person that can answer all three questions in succession.)

See how easy that free word association game is?

So now I am stuck in the dilemma of whether to call this guy back or not. I really am a nice girl, but I just don't think that the promise of free fro-yo is worth the agony of a date.

posted by KA @ 10:13 PM