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Posts Tagged ‘Awkward’

A key sign that a date is going to be awkward: You both come wearing brown paper bags over your faces. Picture from http://dreamsotherwisebroken.files.wordpress.com.

On  July 3rd at 11:54 P.M. I received a text from a boy I’d met in early May; we’ll call him Harold. Harold called and texted me a few times a week for about a month in spite of that fact that I only answered his stories and questions with “mhm” and “yeah.” And when he finally asked me to hang out, I told him I was pretty much busy forever, but I’d look at my schedule. When Harold finally texted me again to see if I looked at my schedule, I pulled out a coward move and just didn’t answer him. If I were a noble person, I would have just told him “thank you, but I’m not interested,” but I am a coward and when he stopped calling and texting, I figured he got the point… until the other night that it is.  I chalked up the late night text to a drunken mistake and wrote it off. So when he called me on July 5th to talk about his job and his holiday weekend, I was confused. I mean, it’s been two months… I said I was busy forever. So now, I am an awkward situation where I think I might need to tell this very nice young man that I am just not that into him. Maybe he’ll just read this blog post…

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10 bucks says George didn't tell Mary she had a phenomenal rack when he first met her... Picture from http://esl-bits.net

I should have taken up kick boxing instead of yoga I think to myself as Edy*, a rather intoxicated young man, tells me I have a phenomenal rack. Whether or not his statement is true is irrelevant. I imagine I could take this moment to punch him in the face, but getting kicked out of a bar for fighting just seems so classless. So I mock the boy instead. He seems unaware that he is being mocked and asks me over to the bar. Perhaps he thought his charming opening line was working. He makes a move that tells me to follow him as he walks away. Oh yeah, Ed, right behind you. He turns around, perhaps mildly surprised I’m not there. He waits a moment, and then comes back. He tells me that he’s just really attracted to me. He says this while staring directly at my chest. He goes between telling me I’m phenomenal and just

You might be a tool if: You stare directly at a girl's chest and tell her she's "perfect"... picture from http://media.digikey.com

nodding silently for a while. This is the sort of guy that gives all guys a bad reputation. He asks me if I’m pissed. With unfailing sarcasm I tell him I’m not. No, what would I have to be pissed about? I am as happy as a clam. Please, continue to infringe on my space, toolbox. It’s his friend that eventually saves me, telling him they were leaving the bar. Edy asks me to leave with him. I think of all those Cosmopolitan articles about girls getting murdered after a night at the bar and ending up stashed in a dumpster behind a 7-11…

Next up is Favre*, a man past middle-age with bad teeth. He says he saw my button (a big pink ribbon that read “Birthday Girl”; a gift from my roommate, AP) and wanted to wish me a happy birthday. I thank him. He lingers a bit longer and wishes me a good night. I wish him the same. I shrug; still better than Edy.

Favre is followed by JB*. Lanky with hair the color of beach sand, he tells me about his friend dying in a horrible fishing accident… in the bar’s fountain (during the day, kids are invited to “fish” little plastic guppies out of the water). He tells me that he’s British, although he’s lacking the accent (he was four when he moved; he says he wishes someone had told him girls dig British accents before he went to school here and took on a typical American speech pattern). He explains that his lankiness and crooked teeth are due to his British-ness.

While JB is still here telling me about being British, GI* and Ben* join the group. GI was an editor on the university paper with me. Ben is a childhood friend of his. GI is a tall army guy who once showed me how to break someone’s face. I introduce him as such and demonstrate the move he showed me. JB laughs with slight discomfort and asks if it’s time for him to go. But he doesn’t leave. GI tells me that he’s moved to Newport and that we should hang out sometime. JB’s fingers are suddenly intertwined with mine. As I laugh with GI and his friend, I feel JB’s arm wrap around my waist, pulling me in closer to him while at the same time, pulling me a little further from GI. In my head, I imagine that in the animal world, this would be like the runt of the litter trying to protect his food from the stronger members of the pack. Throughout the night, JB apologizes for being a nerd and asks several times if I just want him to leave. He also talks about his

You might be a nerd if: Your pick up lines reference Harry Potter. Picture from http://www.harry-potter-movie-buzz.com

traveling to Malaysia for work, his love of cooking, and shows me pictures of his Harley Davidson on his iPhone. I wonder what lanky, nerdy guys did to impress girls before technology…

At the end of the night, JB asks to kiss me. I politely decline, explaining PDA is really not my thing, not to mention I’ve known him for approximately an hour. Perhaps slightly embarrassed, he says he wishes that he had that magic powder that could transport you from one place to another. He is talking about Floo powder; the magic powder in Harry Potter that transports wizards from one fireplace to another. He is a nerd. I think to myself that he sort of looks like how I imagined Neville Longbottom when I was younger. So when he asks for my number, I oblige (because I’m a nerd). He asks when he should call. Perhaps it was my mistake to say whenever, because when I wake up the next morning, I have a text message time stamped for 2:07 a.m. and a missed call at 6:09 a.m. Apparently he is not a follower of the three day rule.

I think of George in “It’s a Wonderful Life” telling Mary that he’ll throw a lasso around the moon and give it to her if that’s what she wants, and wonder if I was just born in the wrong generation.

*Names have been changed.

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