This Seat is Taken.

Happy Days, I met a guy! Just kidding. Well I did meet someone – but it didn’t exactly work out. We met because he hosted a little football gathering at his house and I went over to meet some friends. It was actually super fun even though I was nursing a hangover. Also, it was nice to just hang out with people. New people! Yay! Of course if the chef-formerly-known-as-hot was any foreshadowing, I have the worst taste in men. I just pick the real assholes. It’s a skillset of mine.

Anyway we got along well and decided to go out together that evening with another couple from the party and make a night of it. Pretty fun, I’d say. We spent all morning together. Watched a movie, got food. I gave him my number and figured I’d hear from him soon to make plans to hang out again. I guess you could say that happened. But not until Friday. FRIDAY!!! He waited until Friday to text to see what I was doing that night. I don’t know, I guess it isn’t SO long but it kind of felt like forever and I was like ummmm sure, he seemed nice and I was in the market for a boyfriend. Or at least an Almost Boyfriend to go on dates with.

We hung out briefly on Friday and then later that weekend he invited me over for the man version of Netflix and Chill: Xanax and Football. We cuddled, shared a nice whiskey/rocks. I got to lounge in my favorite robe and have a nice time with someone who appreciates my hotness instead of wearing my favorite robe with my computer and my vibrator. Kind of win/win? Anyway after that another WHOLE week goes by. Except this time I give zero fucks because I’ve been steadily spending time with the original G, Sometimes Boyfriend, and was in the middle of midterms and also tragically optimistic that something amazing was about to happen in which I get all the things – Sometimes Boyfriend becomes Always Boyfriend and I crush it at school and in the meantime build up a superbly solid resume for the job hunt post-graduation. Yahooo!

I was also secretly taking bets with some friends of mine just how many dates I’d be able to have with Almost Boyfriend before I weirdly told him after a few drinks that I love someone else and I’m waiting on my soul mate and thanks for attempting to distract me. (The over/under is not very good for my record…just ask The Economist/JohnDC) PS: Thanks for the cuddles.

Anyway, back to Almost Boyfriend. Another week goes buy and he sends me odd texts about being stressed over not being able to fart in front of me. I don’t know? Sorry!? I also said I didn’t care (and some other choice words). We didn’t hang out (again) and that worked great for me because I didn’t want to be sleeping with two guys and I was totally 100% feeling the Sometimes Boyfriend action. There can be no other lover with that situation. I’m doomed for it.

So, we don’t see each other. And another week goes by with nothing and then I get a slew of texts about some crazy fire at the chemical plant (he’s an engineer) and he’s been at work and he’s sorry he hasn’t called/texted/hung out. Me: Zero fucks given, I hadn’t texted him either because I was busy.

Anyway things went SUPER south when I wanted to spend more time with Sometimes Boyfriend than my allotted role in his life so I was superbly bummed out and in a terrible state of mourning. I had texted Almost Boyfriend for his birthday a few days before but he texted back a casual “Thanks” and that was that. I was pretty much ready to just be done with all the things since he clearly is stringing me along as possible back up plans to his ridiculously busy schedule. Amid a gazillion warning signs, I ask him if he’s planning to come to my neighborhood for the Ohio State game and if he wanted to meet for a drink.

He says “I wish I could, I forgot I have a wedding to go to. I really want to go watch the game and skip the wedding. I’ll let you know if I do if not, let’s get together Sunday.”

Hours later I get a drunk text asking what I was doing and that he skipped the wedding and is at the bar down the street. But he didn’t specifically invite me and then never wrote back to my fairly nice text. So I decided to send him a nice “bet today is rough” text to see if the tentative plans were still a thing. I’m looking a little rough this week but I was down for some attention and we actually seemed to get along – I kind of liked this asshole. (Of course I did…ughghgh) Anyway he writes back but we do not make plans. Later, in bed with my best friend, I really want to know why this guy is such an asshole. And under what circumstances to do you both forget you had a wedding and then bail day of. Did some poor girl have no date to this wedding b/c this “pal” forgot that he said he’d be her date? So. I sent a multiple-choice style text. The conversation was, well, sassy at best. He alleges that she had someone else that she actually wanted to go with so he really did her a favor?! I don’t know. Sounds pretty fucking suspicious to me. Anyway he said something about “timing” and that he “does like me” but I told him that he can go fuck off. It is weird that we met watching the Saints first regular season game. 4 year anniversary of Sometimes Boyfriend. The day must be cursed. Anyway fella, in case you didn’t get the message, I’m not interested in being your one day a week lady friend. That seat is taken.

Advertisements

Turnt Up: Silver Honda Civic-style

It is no secret that I hate driving. The act of operating a motor vehicle is enough to make me break into a sweat. Seriously, I could vomit just thinking about it. There is a less-traveled route in New Orleans that has a raised roundabout. RAISED! ROUNDABOUT! (Die.) I’ve only happened upon it twice. At first I thought I must’ve hallucinated it but the second time this past winter solidified that it is a real thing.

I’m not particularly scared of cars, I just don’t like when I have to steer them. (Although considering the frequency and risk, I don’t really see how some people are terrified of flying in an airplane but don’t break out into a full panic attack when getting into a car.) Which is why I am the closest to comfortable behind the wheel of my 2005 Honda Civic that has the most limited of power and has lovely manual roll up windows and two doors so no one is thinking “Hey, let’s take Andrea’s car!” (Mine or my best friend’s silver Honda that is basically the same thing with power windows!) The past ten years, well…if my car could talk. It doesn’t so let’s just leave it at that for now.

A few months ago my car starting doing something really weird – the turn signals were making a funny sound and taking a few extra minutes to click on. But only when it was hot!? Weird. Anyway I hate car problems and there is nothing that I hate more than a car problem that is only a problem sometimes because the car people just think I’m crazy. Anyway I ride it out through the summer. A few times it was incredibly stressful because I couldn’t singal when changing lanes on the highway but hey, its Louisiana – New Orleans! – loads of people don’t use turn signals here. It is kind of a thing.

I personally am an excessive signal-user. Does the road curve sharply left? You better believe my left turn signal is on. (Freak, I know.) It’s just habit. Anyway so recently the just TOTALLY stopped working. And I was kind of broke (Grad school! In English!) and so decided to wait until the day before payday to call the auto shop. I called on Thursday and of course they didn’t have an appointment until the following Tuesday. Woof. So here I am, trying really hard to use the bike arm signals to let people know what I’m attempting to do. It turns out, no one knows those signals and it is a lot harder to turn with one arm than two, especially when the second arm is stupidly hanging out the window. (As opposed to holding a coffee or something.)

Finally Tuesday came and I dropped my car off. YAY! I pull up to the parking lot and one of the mechanics is about to pull a car out of their parking lot. He’s waving me to drive forward because he can’t tell that I want to turn into his parking lot. He thinks I’m just being an asshole and waves his arms at me and I can’t read his lips so I decided to just park on the street.

All day passes and no word. So I call to check and you know what? NOT yay. They can’t figure out the problem. It is between two things – one less expensive, one significantly more – and the guy can’t make a decision. He unplugs whatever electrical part manages the turn signal and then plugs it back in to do more tests and guess what? No really, GUESS WHAT? It magically works again. My Go To Fix It solution of unplug and plug it back in is what fixed my silly Civic. $104 later (had to be charged for labor since they didn’t “fix” anything) I just have to patiently wait for them to go on the fritz again. CAN. NOT. WAIT.