From the Archives: Mr. Mind-F*ckboy

Carrie – How do I begin to summarize the most complicated and confusing relationship that encompassed eight months of my life? Although it’s been a while since we last talked and nothing in particular brought him up, I still think of him in late hours of insomniac nights.

Let’s go back to January 2015. Mr. Mind-F*ckboy was essentially a one-night stand of a wild weekend gone awry. Newly single Carrie had just had her first overnighter with a stranger who departed with a “thanks but you know I’ll never see you again.” I suppose that’s what I wanted at the time, that’s why I chose this random out-of-town guy who was visiting the first week of my last semester of undergrad.

Flash forward to the next night and I felt a little confused and off-kilter from my first one night stand. My friend, Mr. Stanford Blach in fact, was going out and told me to join so I put on my glasses and granny panties in a preventative form of birth control. We get to the bar and I’m waiting with my friend’s boyfriend from Ottawa who sees his friend from high school. And he was HOT. We get introduced and I’ve never been so attracted to someone (other than Zac Efron) right off the bat. Later, sipping on my G&T, I spot Mr. MFB brooding in the corner as we make eye contact. He starts moving through a crowd in my direction and I frantically chug my drink in preparation. We hit it off with a surprisingly deep conversation that flowed from classic rock to hook up culture to volun-tourism to neoliberalism and I hadn’t felt that strong of a connection with anyone before. He asked to come home with me and I agreed, silently cursing myself for the granny panties.
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