Mr. 10(A) High School Musical

Carrie –  For the past nine months, I have withheld my re-born again virginity from potential suitors in hopes that the next guy that I slept with would amount to something more. Not necessarily as in a boyfriend and not even necessarily more than one night (although ideal) – I’m talking about someone that I felt a connection with.

What was this weird self-imposed pressure to make it meaningful? Well, you see, the next guy I would sleep with would be my tenth. For someone who lost her virginity to someone she loved for five years after, I hadn’t ever envisioned myself having sex with more than one partner, much less eight others after that. Sex should be something more than lust, right? I started losing what sex had meant to me so I became infactuated with this idea that hitting double digits – the big 10 – should be something. Maybe 10 would even be my next One + Nothing (1 + 0) because everyone else before that didn’t really mean much.

Yet alas, the spell has been broken…

10(a) : Mr. High School Musical

            Upon heading back into the cesspool that is Ottawa from my May abroad, I felt hopeful my first few days of June. “Summer is the best season in Ottawa,” everyone boasted. With a best friend from the 6ix moving in with me for the summer and a good drinking crew, I was looking forward to Canada’s 150th anniversary in the capital.

Continue reading “Mr. 10(A) High School Musical”

Mr. UK Bae

I’ve been told that the story of this night seems so ridiculous that it is like something out of a movie. As such, like most movies this post comes with a rating:

R – the following blog post is rated R for Relationship. If you are in a relationship, proceed reading with caution and hold all judgement for the comment section below.

Mr. UK Bae, a film by Samantha Jones.

The scene is downtown San Francisco. Two girls (Samantha and Charlotte) are on vacation and staying in a dorm at a hostel. A couple from London, Mr. UK Bae and his girlfriend of a year “Andie” are in the dorm as well. Andie looooves UKB, but he’s a little more meh about her.

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That night, all 4 attend the hostel pub crawl along with 50 of their new best friends. The night starts off as innocuous as any and at the second stop of the night everyone finds out it’s Samantha’s birthday. From there the drinks start flowing and soon enough she is very drunk….the following is her account of the rest of that night….

My 24th birthday was one of the best of my life. I was on vacation in San Francisco, had gotten my first tattoo earlier that day, and was having the time of my life with not a care in the world. The only thing getting me down was “Ken”, a guy from my hostel who could not take a hint and was hanging off my neck most of the night. By the third bar I was officially over this stage-75 clinger and asked UK Bae for help in getting away from him. He grabbed my hand and led to the dance floor out of the clutches of Klinger Ken. There, amongst the crowd of gyrating bodies, we stood perfectly still,  holding hands and not breaking eye contact. I don’t know what it was about this guy but from the moment we met I was attracted to his vibe. Now, standing there on the packed dance floor I was definitely feeling a slightly different vibe, so dropped his hand and walked away to grab another drink.

Some time (and many drinks) later I stumbled outside for some much needed fresh air. I stood there catching my breath when UK Bae walks around the corner laughing at me standing there doubled over, trying not hurl.

I honestly don’t know who made the first move but the next thing I know he’s pressed me up against a wall and we’re engaged in what I can only describe as the hottest make out session of my whole damn life. I know it was morally wrong, this is why I put the rating at the beginning of the post, but something about the “badness” of the situation made the whole thing 10000% hotter and I was totally caught up in the heat of the moment.

We reluctantly separate and go back to the bar to avoid suspicion, where Charlotte and Andie are looking for us to hit the next bar on the list. Andie was NOT happy that she’d been left alone and broke down begging him never to leave her again. He told her he’d been helping me since I was sick (semi-true) and Charlotte accepted this at face value, I have no idea what Andie must’ve been thinking.

We acted causal the rest of the night and ended up heading back to our dorm in a pack including him and I, Andie, Charlotte and the guy she picked up for the night, and a blonde AF, Frodo-looking sir who really wanted to walk me home. Friggen squad goals. I suppose a nicer person would’ve felt guilty about the situation but maybe I’m not all that nice a person…Help me out here people, was I wrong to break “Girl Code” or is the onus on him to not make a fool of his girlfriend? The cavalier way in which he so easily crossed that line REALLY makes me suspect I am not the first person to be his “Other Woman”…I’m not justifying my actions…but maybe I am.

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Back in our shared dorm, I’m on the top-bunk when I get a very racy text from the bed across from mine. It was UK Bae. In what felt like a scene from a really bad teen movie we begin texting back and forth what we want to do to the other while Andie and Charlotte lie sleeping below us. The whole thing was so naughty that the tension was almost too much to take. We planned to wait till everyone was asleep to make our move and I eventually fell asleep too.

A few strong taps wake me up and and soon I’m on my way to meet him in the shower room down the hall. Why the shower room you may ask? Well, hooking up in hostels is HARD, especially when the person you’re hooking up with is travelling with a significant other. I don’t think she was too interested in having a threesome, so we needed to make alternative plans.

Anyway, after all that build up we immediately got it on in what was one of the sexiest experiences I’ve had in a long time. I’m a girl who likes a little roughness and he seemed to know just what I wanted. The whole thing didn’t last more than 15 minutes, but hey, after about 5 hours of foreplay can you really blame the guy?

We head back to our respective beds and I wake up the next morning still turned on from the events of the night before. Hell, I’m even getting a little turned on thinking about it as I write this. He had some sort of crazy sexual hold over me where all logic and morality flew out the window, replacing all my thoughts with the image of us fooling around in that alley outside the bar.

Now, I know what I did wrong. Andie is a very nice girl and had any guy done that to a friend of mine I’d castrate him. But the circumstances and distance between their lives and mine made the whole thing feel surreal, and boy did it feel good to be bad. By the time Charlotte and I returned to our hostel the next night they’d checked out (this was planned and not a consequence of our actions) so whether or not he tells her is none of my concern. All I can say is Happy Birthday to me, I’m one year older, wiser and a little sluttier too 😛

Ms. All About That Bass

Yup, you guessed it, I hooked up with a girl. A really cool bass-playing, long hair having, bra-wearing female. It was a Saturday like any other and Miranda and I were out in Kensington causing trouble when we stepped outside for a smoke. Well, to be clear I was not smoking, but instead lecturing those around me about the danger of cancer sticks.  Anyway, I stood alongside Miranda and another fellow ranting away when a girl approached us asking for a light. She was playing bass in the “battle of the bands”-ish event happening across the street and asked if we wanted to come watch. Being the loveable, free-spirit that she is, Miranda was immediately down and we headed inside.

The details aren’t important, but I could tell very quickly that this girl was interested in getting to know me in a very non-friendship sort of way. The night soon progressed to us very publicly making out in the middle of the bar, which according to Miranda looked just like a mass of dark, curly hair flailing about. This was soon followed by a slightly inebriated conversation with myself in the bathroom that went something along the lines of…

  • Me: But you’re not into girls in a sexual way…
  • Also me: So what, you’re into sex!
  • Me: Good point.

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I’ve never been with a girl before. I mean, I made out with one once in Barcelona and had a couple kisses with some friends in high school, but that’s about it. Nonetheless, nothing felt weird or forced so I just went with it. Funnily enough, Ms. All About that Bass said that I gave off lesbian vibes (whatever that means) and I actually do have a reputation for getting drinks from women at bars, so I didn’t blame my friends for not being surprised when I told them about our hookup. In fact, Miranda was the most surprised, at the fact that I hadn’t ventured into same-sex hookup territory before.

We ended up having a great time together, and a great hookup. We clearly had chemistry and got along really well, as I said nothing felt forced at all. I left her place around 4am, throwing out some excuse about walking the dog that I’d been taking care of that week and that was it.

Anyway, I woke up the next morning feeling really giddy and a little guilty. We’d had fun together and I didn’t regret that at all, but I was feeling weird about how MUCH fun we’d had. Our convos from the night before pointed to an actual connection (romantic, friendship, or something different all together) so I didn’t really want to blow this girl off like I might another one night stand. At the same time, she is out, proud and had been for years, and I was still trying to figure out what this hookup meant to me, if anything at all.

I am a millennial at my core so I obviously don’t think that sexuality is cut and dry. Hooking up with guys throughout my life makes me no straighter than hooking up with this girl makes me gay and there’s no need to label it as one way or another. However, I definitely wasn’t looking to pursue anything and this led to me acting pretty awkward when she texted later the next day. I’m not proud of this but my responses were very short and distant, I was acting like a total “fuckboi” and this really bothered me. I’ve been on the receiving end of enough similar situations to know that if I was her, I would not like how I was behaving. The ambiguity of the situation was a tough one for me to navigate and she stopped texting me after picking up on that vibe. All week it was bugging me that I’d acted in a way that I so often condemn. I wasn’t overtly mean, but we both knew what I was doing and that just wasn’t cool.

Cut to the next Saturday when I received a text from her asking if I wanted her to drop off the stuff that I’d left at her place. I was so thrown because honestly, who’s that nice??? Definitely none of the guys I’ve dated! Feeling even worse about how I’d acted I said she could just toss my stuff out if she wanted and again she stopped texting…rightfully so. She’d handed me the second opportunity to explain myself but I punked out.

After letting her message fester for the next 12 hours, I texted her and explained why I had essentially gone like the wind. While I may have padded my response a little, I basically stated that she was awesome and I just wasn’t sure what I want right now. This is actually true, but more in the context of whether or not I want a relationship, not whether or not that relationship is with a man or a woman. To her credit she was extremely cool about the whole thing and grateful for the explanation. We left things amicable enough that I probably could message to hang out in the future if the mood struck again.

The biggest surprise of this whole thing turned out to be how easily we understood each other. She knew what I was implicitly saying through my friendly but dismissive messages and I knew she was looking for an explanation. Men always say women are impossible to understand but we really got each other because I was able to actually put myself in her shoes (or combat boots lol).

At the end of the day I still want to end up with a man and missed the sex part of our hookup, despite how bomb it may have been. Nonetheless, I leave this with a reinforced disdain for ghosting and a much greater appreciation for my own sexuality and the complications that come with it.

Mr. Special Ops

Carrie – When my friend offered me her place to stay in Seoul and my credit card supplied me with free flights, I impulsively booked my four Asian-metropolis trip for May: Tokyo, Shanghai, Busan and Seoul.

We met interesting people along the way, that’s for sure. One night in Tokyo, we ended up at as the only two girls at this karaoke bar, where I proceeded to get serenaded and dipped by the big, burly bartender to Enrique Iglesias’ “Hero” (song is forever ruined).

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Cue to my last weekend Seoul, where I develop what I will term “Seoul Goggles” which is essentially a “do it for the blog” mentality.

Continue reading “Mr. Special Ops”

Dating Woes? You DESPERATELY Need to Read This Post

What’s the most vile word in the English language when it comes to matters of the heart?  I’ll give you a hint: Seth Cohen noticed it, Chandler Bing embodied it, and if you’re a millennial in today’s dating scene, you probably smell of it.

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Did you guess? If you did, well done! You’ve correctly identified the number one most avoided noun in the history of verbiage. Desperation in any form is bad enough as it is…no one says they’re jumping for joy desperation or choose to make the desperate choice first, but when it comes to dating this effect is 100 times worse.

Recently I heard an interesting podcast about the dominant hookup culture that rules the day (I swear my life doesn’t fully revolve around dating – just mostly). Sociologist Lisa Wade explained how a woman would rather be called a slut than be called desperate, because a slut may have slept with a bunch of guys but the desperate girl…well….at least when you’re a slut someone wants you.

*PAUSE TO TAKE IN THE FKD UP-NESS OF THAT SITUATION*

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What’s so sad is that I can’t even say that this is something I don’t identify with. I have definitely been in the unfortunate situation (more than once) where I did something with someone that I wasn’t fully comfortable with just to feel wanted, to feel like I fit in, or that I’m just like everyone else. Well, I’m here to tell you that the sad truth is that sleeping around doesn’t make you like everyone else. In fact, feeling desperate and alone probably brings you closer to feeling like the rest of us than getting laid does.

According to this article in NOW Magazine, which went absolutely VIRAL in Toronto, us Millenials are significantly less sexually active than our Gen X predecessors. People claim to be too busy for something meaningful and overwhelmed by all the option, and it’s really no wonder why. We work longer hours, spend more time with friends than family and let’s face it, technology is complicating everything. At the tips of our fingers are option after option making people feel dispensable, so should we really be surprised when they treat us like we are?

It’s unsurprising that if you’re constantly talking about sex but not having it that you’d wind up feeling a little desperado, and there is absolutely no shortage to the sexual imagery that exists in every facet of our culture. Even as I write this I’m surrounded by content hell-bent on turning me into an attention-seeking single. The desperate divas from The Bachelor Women Tell All are whining on TV, I’m listening to James Arthur’s “You’re Nobody till Somebody Loves You” and that article I mentioned earlier? The ad at the end was actually promoting a dating event for foodies!! ‘Foody call’…very subtle LOBLAWS.

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Realistically, sex when you’re dating falls into two main categories: a) completely meaningless or b) meaning everything. I swear, now more than ever, the only time you DON’T have sex with someone is when you actually like them. As if the very intimate act in and of itself is proof that you don’t care about the person you’re sleeping with. WHAT KIND OF TWISTED LOGIC IS THAT? Most shocking of all, this mentality is something we women actually STRIVE for. We want to appear aloof, detached and totally okay with it…the less you care the better off you are. HAH. That sounds healthy…

There really is no win for women because men want it both ways: they want a sexually deviant, hot woman who knows what she’s doing in the bedroom until they don’t. For a woman to be deemed acceptable of “wife-ing up” she should still be seen as “wholesome and respectful”, which apparently doesn’t mean being overtly sexual or too comfortable in the bedroom. See the problem? Not only do men have ALL the power in relationships, but they condemn us for embodying the very ideals that they promote. Most of the time we end up feeling cheap and desperate because the only thing harder than getting someone interested in you is keeping that interest for more than 10 seconds.

I had a very illuminating experience last weekend. I approached a guy at the bar and we had a great convo for quite a while. My friend “Julie” ended up cock-blocking me so when he asked me for my number later that night I was stoked. Well, without my knowledge, another friend of mine, “Sara”, berated her for being the world’s worst-wingwoman and told Julie to go fix the situation. Julie claims he asked her where I was but I have my doubts. The result? Me, left wondering if he asked for my number because he liked me or because someone told him to…Worst of all – how PATHETIC I feel for even explaining this to whomever reads this blog. Why? Because this shouldn’t be a big deal at all, but what started out as a nice interaction/little ego-boost ended up rocking my self-esteem.  When I messaged him later that night and got no reply I immediately felt like I was the poor girl who needed her friends to get someone to talk to her, even though I’m not. And that is not a good feeling.

As women we are often too hard on ourselves. We overthink our interactions with men and then get mad at ourselves for overthinking them – all because we don’t want to appear, you guessed it, DESPERATE. Who knows, maybe with time I’ll stop caring so much about looking some type of way. If a guy doesn’t like me for who I am then that’s on him not me. I’ll forget my fears and feel confident enough to say: “Hey, you’re great and we should hang out”.

Lol, Just kidding…I’m not that desperate.

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How I Broke up with My Best Friend…Twice

I used to think that girls and guys could be just friends. I really did! I’ve had many guy friends in the past and am 100% comfortable bro-ing out. Hell, sometimes I NEED the testosterone in my life to balance out particularly dramatic periods of time. But I have finally accepted that in any very close male-female relationship, it is not possible to always be “just friends”. In fact, to quote my fave relationship guru and fellow DTT6 author Rachel Green, a guy and girl can only actually be friends if they both successfully pass the “Do I like this person” hurdle at least some point in the relationship. Why I bring this up you might ask? Well, for the second time in my life I have had my best and closest guy friend admit to having feelings for me and for the second time in my life I had to give up on a friendship that has been ruined by sex – or in these cases, a lack thereof.

Quick background on me: I lost my virginity to my best friend in Grade 12, told him I liked him only as a friend, lost that friendship, realized I liked him a year later, dated for a year, broke up in what can only be described as world war 3, and hooked up on and off for almost 2 years until that went down in flames. If our breakup was world war 3 then the finality of our relationship was world war Z, and the carnage was epic on both ends. I decimated that friendship and almost 5 years after our initial breakup the wound has not properly healed. Safe to say I’m pretty sensitive when it comes to the treacherous waters where emotion meets friendship.

Despite this, I got very close to one of my male co-workers when starting at my current job. We don’t have much in common in terms of interests but for some reason we just click. Over the last year and a half we have gotten incredibly close, spending time together outside of work constantly and ingratiating each other in our respective lives. He’s facetimed with my family, I’ve gone for dinner with him and his dad and as time went on the lines between us grew increasingly blurry. Nonetheless, it never seemed like a problem worth addressing..I didn’t think of him him that way and didn’t think about how he felt about me.

Cut to – August 2016 when this great friend of mine turned into a compete a-hole. Seemingly overnight my closest male ally had become my enemy, acting distant and insulting at every turn. He pushed me away and I just didn’t understand why.

Never one to shy away from conflict I confronted him, at work mind you, and asked WTF was up. Honestly, I thought he was going to tell me he had feelings for our DTT6 resident Miranda and was absolutely FLABBERGASTED when he instead admitted to having feelings for me. I was shocked, confused, and a tiny bit flattered. His feelings ran quite a bit deeper than a crush, and his hurtful behaviour stemmed from an inability to balance our friendship with how he felt.After a very uncomfortable convo where I had to straight up tell this great guy that I was not into him we left the office in separate directions, me understanding what I did to piss him off (answer: not love him back) and him needing some space from our friendship.

I am not so naive to think this never would have happened. Tons of my friends had previously asked what was up, either believing he was into me or otherwise gay, so I was really the only one surprised by this news.The only explanation that I can provide is it’s a likely combo of  denial and wishful thinking. I never would’ve wanted to hurt him or our friendship, so I pretended the notion of us as being an “us” didn’t exist for as long as I could.

But now everything was out in the open and I totally respected the need for distance. I  went about my days as typically as possible, patiently hoping things would rectify themselves. And like most things do, our relationship eventually did go back to normal. We talked more, hung out, and I just assumed that his feelings had passed. “Maybe he was confusing closeness with intimacy and never even really liked me like that” I told myself this and honestly, I believed it. After a little while I didn’t even think about that 2 hour conversation that left us both without a best friend. The facetimes returned, the dinners too and I thought we’d made it past the hurdle Rachel so eloquently mentioned at the beginning of this post. In fact, we got even CLOSER if that’s possible and spent every waking minute together, at work and outside as well. He became my “emotional boyfriend” and while I definitely saw the danger in that I ignored it. He made me feel happy, secure and cared for without having the pressure to define anything because we already had a definition: Friends. At this point I actually did think about what it’d be like to be with him in a more romantic way, and it just wasn’t there for me.

Then came the holidays, a hard time for all single people. After a very boozy holiday party we ended up back at my place with two other friends. While they chilled in the main room we went to my bedroom to roll a joint. We were standing by my dresser chopping the weed when he looked over and leaned in #StonerRelationshipGoals. Honestly, this couldn’t have been more perfectly choreographed if it was intended for television but as he leaned in I leaned out, narrowly missing his kiss.

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(I am soooo not proud of my next few moments but they happened so I may as well be honest). Though I rejected him pretty blatantly, I was very flirty the rest of the night, even telling him “You don’t need to regret it” when he said he didn’t feel badly about making a move because the moment felt right. Ya, I was being a huge tease and an even huge-r asshole, but I wasn’t really thinking and maybe enjoying the attention a little too much.

The next day I invited him to brunch with my roommate and acted like nothing happened. 3 days later I went to South Africa for a 2-week trip. We spoke often while I was away so I just assumed we’d had a weird moment but had gotten past it.  But when I went back to work nothing was the same. Fun and comfortable had been replaced by tense and forced and I was so confused. I didn’t even think about the almost-kiss as being the cause, the incident living deep in my long-term memory and clouded by 2 weeks of sun. Things became progressively more tense and I progressively more upset. How were we at this place again? I didn’t think he could possibly like me because he was always talking about other girls, or maybe this is just what I was telling myself.

We reached a boiling point at my roommate’s birthday, where even his best GUY friend admitted that the tension was palpable. I texted him the next morning saying things had felt off for a while and we couldn’t put off a conversation any longer. Apparently my timing was less than impeccable as he was heading to Florida for a week, so we promised to talk when he came back. A week goes by and he comes back to work on what turned out to be a horrible, HORRIBLE day for me. Separate from our issues, I had some pretty serious personal stuff going on, and he ended up passing me dashing out of the office mid-panic attack. Without me even explaining anything more than “I can’t deal right now, this is too much”, we went for a walk and he let me utter panicky nonsense on repeat for 20 minutes. Knowing we still had to talk he said he’d wait till things calmed down and made sure to check in days later to see how I was doing.

We finally had our talk. He told me that he isn’t over me and had been thinking about making a move long before the night he leaned in for the almost-kiss. I guess I hadn’t realized how far back our issues extended because I was away (or ignoring the signs). What really gets me is he admitted to intentionally waiting and acting cool while I was away because he wanted me to enjoy my trip…he was always putting me and my feelings first. Since I’ve been back it’s become too hard to be just friends and he doesn’t know if I can be in his life the way I want to be right now. Again, I totally understand, but this time it’s much harder. Maybe it was a result of all the other things I’m dealing with at the moment, maybe it’s because I wish we’d work out because who doesn’t want to fall in love with their best friend. I honestly don’t know.

What I do know is that all the weirdness fell away when he saw how upset I was at work and was still there for me in spite of how hard it was for him, and this realization broke my heart a little. He truly put me first, even before himself, and when I thanked him for his support I broke down into tears, something I’ve never done in front of him. You know what his response was? “You being real and vulnerable right now only makes me like you more”…needless to say if my heart wasn’t broken before, it was after that.

After this we sat around not saying much. Neither of us wanted to leave because we knew this was the last time we’d be just the two of us for a long while. It’s not fair to him to stay so close to me and it sucks for me to have to let him go, but what can I do? I let this happen by getting into a pseudo-relationship and now I need to deal with that. When he hugged me goodbye I felt him hold me in a way that was tragically final and way too reminiscent of an actual breakup, and it was painful.

So now we’re not friends.

We’re not in a relationship.

We’re taking space and I had to tell this guy not once, but twice, “I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way” (But I kinda wish I did).

Bachelorette in Hell

 

Carrie – Move over Bachelor in Paradise, there’s a new show called Bachelorette in Hell and it is my love life. (That was cheesy, I apologize.)

Throughout the first few weeks of January, in order to get over my obsession with Mr. Heart Emoji, I distract myself with an app called Bumble where the girl has to talk to the guy first. Now, I’m pretty good with alluring men with one liners. In fact, I arrange three dates in one weekend.

Keeping em? That’s a different story (aka this blog post).

Continue reading “Bachelorette in Hell”

Mr. Heart Emoji – Part Two

[Hey, if you haven’t read Part One, you might get confused. Click the link here!]

Carrie – In true blackout fashion, I remember saying “cheers” with my gal pal and Mr. Heart Emoji on our third round of tequila shots. Then not much more.

I am blackout at the pre but in cruel, cruel fashion, my brain can recall one interaction. Profusely flirting with Mr. Grilled Cheese, we end up as the only two people in the one of two rooms, probably because I was making everyone uncomfortable with my aggressive flirtation. (I was told later I was doing this IN FRONT OF Mr. Heart Emoji because I am a fuckgirl). I drunkenly confess to Mr. Grilled Cheese, “Well like you’re the last person I’ve slept with! Aren’t I the last person you’ve slept with?”

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I still cringe at how much of an embarrassment I like to make my life. Then he stutters “uhhhh” for approximately a minute. I save him by telling him I know I’m not, call him a manwhore, and top it off with a, “But I know you’re into me.” To my dismay, he answers, “A little bit.” Me: “A little bit?” “Yeah, a little bit.” I swear I probably would have mounted him right there if we weren’t in public cause I am such a horny little drunk.

I end up at a bar. How I got there, not too sure. As far as I’m concerned, Mr. Grilled Cheese was not there. I remember snippets of sitting in a booth with my gal pals and Mr. Heart Emoji, and also snippets of drinking water out of the bathroom faucet, just to prove that 23 is still not a classy age. I think I had fun and my Visa bill proves that.

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Accurate depiction of me receiving my visa bill.

Now the next bit is where it gets interesting. There is a 24 hour diner near the bars in Ottawa. At that point, I was not aware of this. (Now that I am, that Visa bill will only continue to grow.)

Mr. Heart Emoji and I wind up there. Alone. I deduce he must have asked me to go at 2 AM because I’m confused why we’re in a booth alone and none of our friends join us. But I happily order a $16 burger (one that I later proceed not to eat a single bite of) when a classmate shows up. Now let’s call him Tree cause he is ridiculously tall and dresses like a lumberjack. Tree starts by asking if he’s interrupting me and Mr. Heart Emoji. We say no, then he sits beside me and Tree asks, “but you guys are gonna bang tonight, right?”

Continue reading “Mr. Heart Emoji – Part Two”

Mr. Heart Emoji – Part I

Carrie – I’ve gotten to a point in my romantic experience, or perhaps my confidence level, where I can tell where I stand socially when I walk into a party of new people. I can tell the girls that want to be my friend and those that are wary cause I’m new meat and they’re not sure if I’m a threat or not. I can tell which guys are not interested and which guys want to take up some of my time to see if they are. The latter are the guys that stand by you at the party in a social group they know, just to put less space between you two. They’ll accidentally bump into you if you’re at a party when someone passes by or they’ll do a turn on the dance floor at an opportune beat to start dancing with you. Sometimes I’ll entertain the conversations by the food table while I munch on the free chips, mainly so I don’t look like that big of an antisocial fatty. However, I’m a firm believer in not leading a guy on that I have no interest in and I’m an expert at being straight-up with a guy to say no. Actually, I’m quite rude. But I’d rather be alone than feel lonelier trying to feel something for someone who it’s just not there with.

All this confidence is lost when it comes to a guy that I actually like.

Continue reading “Mr. Heart Emoji – Part I”

Mr. Grilled Cheese

Carrie – I am no longer a young professional living in the 6ix. As much as I loved shitting around in what my father termed my “sabbatical” year in a great city, I’ve decided to move to a sleepier town. I’ve immerse myself back into an academic environment filled with intelligent, like-minded individuals, and a ton of… general douchebags. Welcome to the world of law school.

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Since I began two months ago, I have projectile vomited on a bus in front of my friends, peed behind a school building on campus, fallen on my face on a boat cruise, woken up with a leg full of bruises, developed viral conjunctivitis (aka a case of the pink eye), gotten a cold twice, and just generally killed it at life it seems. Maybe it’s the fierce female squad I’ve made (our group chat is the “Pro Boners”) and their bad influence on me but realistically, it’s probably just me.

One Saturday, after 12 hours in the library, my friend and I took one break to stop for linner at around 3. With that having been my only meal of the day, my mind being exhausted, and my overall track record of making bad life choices, I am fucked by 8:30 p.m. when we head over to this bro’s house for a pre.

I show up and I am the most ‘lit-lit’ out of all of us. I was hoping one of my crushes would be there – he’s a year younger but we went to the same alma mater, he’s well-spoken, tall, with these cerulean eyes that are alarmingly entrancing. He had been messaging me a couple of weeks earlier, even sending me heart emojis that the Pro Boners collectively freaked out over, so I had this pent up sexual tension I was hoping to explore with Mr. Heart Emoji.

Naturally, I sleep with his best friend.

Continue reading “Mr. Grilled Cheese”