"What Goes Around Comes Around"
Thursday night, it was off to Liberty for a few drinks. After staying over Triathlete's all week, I thought it was about time that I had a girls night with S and C. What started out as an innocent evening, slowly turned into the parade of the ghosts of hookups past. Yikes. Harvard and Iceland both ended up being at Alibi, and between them, my girlfriends, and their guy friends, I was being pulled in about a thousand directions. Isn't it funny, the minute you start liking someone and become less and less available, the dating universe throws you a curve ball, or in my case, two. Iceland was easy to blow off, but Harvard was looking gooooood. I mean, REAL good. As my friends recall, I disappeared for about 30 minutes to go talk to Harvard in the lobby. Our hips were glued together the entire time, and I was having a tough time keeping myself vertical (and not because of the three shots I had had just prior). After literally dry humping while standing up, I snapped myself out of his sexy Jedi mind trick and walked my ass back into the bar. Crisis averted. Even though Triathlete and I weren't dating officially, subconsciously I knew I would have felt bad if I went home with Harvard. Damn, listen to me, when the hell did I get a conscience?
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| C and I at Alibi |
After another few hours of flirting with a hot medical device professional from Maine, I still couldn't get my mind off of Triathlete. "Well, he lives right down the street, why don't I just go there?" I thought. After a pep talk from one of my guy friends telling me to just call him and tell him I was coming over, I called him, at 1:56am.. classy. Next thing I knew, the sun was up, and I was getting ready to head to work. In the rush of things, I paused, kneeled on his bed, and took a deep breath. "I'm just going to throw this out there... you don't have to throw it back, or reciprocate, but I want to tell you something. I like you." Why the hell am I telling him at the ass crack of dawn that I like him? Is he even fully awake? Maybe this was my way of telling him with the hope that it might not register and I can just run out of there and go to work... While I'm thinking all of this and still babbling like brook, he responded, "Well, I like you too." Phew, now I won't vomit all over my shoes the minute I step outside of his apartment.
"Ayotechnology"
After a crazy morning and a day full of errands, I hadn't heard from Triathlete all day. Shit. It was 9pm and we had plans to pop open the bottle of champagne I had bought for him for his birthday earlier that week, yet I hadn't heard from him. So, I called S and we went out for a friend's birthday instead. I might like him, but I will not be caught dead calling a guy first on the night that we have plans. He has a cell phone, thumbs, and the capacity to spell "what's up", so ball was in his court. Still nothing. What the hell? Guys are so freaking weird. As much as I know how to manipulate them to take me out to dinner, buy me a drink, or into bed with me, I don't get them! After a few more bars, I chalked it up to a misunderstanding, kept my mouth shut, and went home.
"Seniorita"
By the time I got home, I was not a happy camper. How on Earth did I end up going home alone? This is not how a Friday night is supposed to work, ever. I'm horny, pissed off, and sitting on my bed without someones hand up my shirt. Looks like it's time to break out the proverbial little black book. I was mad, so I went for the heavy hitter, the sure thing, the guy I know who would cuddle with me and not have sex with me, my ex. I know what you're thinking, BAD MOVE.. I know, I know. Desperate times call for desperate measures. No more than two minutes later, I was in a cab on my way to Allston. After a big hug, that felt so familiar, some string cheese, and chit chat, we were snuggled up in bed, and while I wasn't feeling 100% better, it was pretty damn close. Sometimes, even stone cold bitches need to be held, too. Okay?
"Sexy Back"
I spent the whole next day with the ex watching football and eating wings; our typical playoff season ritual. Once 8 o'clock rolled around, I knew it was time to high tail my ass out of there. After a full day of his friends throwing me sideways glances (because I had broken up with him), he knew it was time for me to go, too. Once I got home, I rallied and put on one of the sexiest dresses I have. Long sleeve leather, backless, and short (my crotch wasn't hanging out, but I was one misstep from pulling a Britney). If this doesn't get me laid tonight, I don't know what will! It was S's birthday party at a bar in Back Bay, and I was about to put on my game face, strut my stuff, and hopefully sweep the cobwebs out of my vajayjay. Yes, two days without sex is a long time...
"Cry Me a River"
But who decides to text me??? Low and behold, Triathlete's phone does work! "What are you up to?" That's it? That's all you have to say for yourself? UGH. Bartender, Patron please... leave the bottle.
"I'm out," I responded. If you have a problem with that response, cry me a freaking river. I don't care. I ended up staying out until 4am with S, and after a couple of opportunities to get laid, I still went home alone.
Crap, I really do like this guy.
'Til next time,
A Babe In Boston
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