It's been awhile since I've posted one of these, but I think you already know what it'll be about. Lately, things have been fluctuating for me, people never return my calls, but even when people legitimately claim they have, it never turns up on my phone. I've been getting girls' numbers here and there and going on a few casual dates, just to have fun and whatnot, but last night was an excellent evening cut short by... well, I don't know what.
From time to time in my weekly philosophy discussion group, this kid I sit with and I have always checked out this girl we called 'glasses chick' on the other side of the class who's both really hot but also comes off brilliant. The other day, we were getting our papers back and I got a 69 and it turned out she got a 100, and I said to her that she was someone I'd like to get to know. We talked a little, and on the way out, she was walking away, but when I made sure I had her name right, she asked whether I took good notes. Sure. She asked if she could copy them sometime. Why not. And I said we should exchange numbers, but her cell was dead, so I took hers down and said I'd call her later.
Fast forward a few days to yesterday. I walked out of philosophy lecture and decided I'd give her a call and see if she'd like to get some lunch, but I got her machine and left a quick message - while I was talking to her voicemail, however, she had called back and left a message on mine, so I called again and she said she had just woken up, but that she'd get back to me sometime later that day or the day after. Ok. I went on my way.
I was hanging out in a friend's room who was ragging on me for knowing all these girls when one, this one, in fact called. She said she was on the subway right now, but that she was heading back to her apartment and wanted to know if she could drop by and pick up my notes or if she'd prefer that I come over. I totally wanted to come over, and she said I could smoke her hookah while she copied my notes. Awesome. She said she'd call me back when she got in her neighborhood and give me directions. I got all psyched and a little panicked, and since I didn't actually *have* any notes, I went to the task of making some quickly...
After she had called with directions, I set off into the twilight city. I walked with thoughts of disbelief at where I was going and surmised that she must be some steamy seductress whose key to success is copying the notes of unsuspecting freshmen whom she'd have her way with. I wasn't complaining, mind you.
I buzzed her floor and tried to calm myself as she came down, looking astounding. She welcomed me and led me up and I was just soaking in the environment as we went up to floor four. Her room is larger than the one I share with my roomate, her bed, three times wider than mine, and excellently decorated to boot. I started looking around trying to gauge her by the environment she'd created herself, and I noticed a print on the wall from the Massachussetts Horticultural Society, some cameras, and books. Lots of books.
She led me to a sofa and asked if I'd like a drink. What did she have? Oh, water, tea, apple juice... vodka tonic. I chose the vodka tonic, hoping it might calm me down a little. I thought maybe I should make some conversation while she was in the kitchen, but instead took the time to frantically poke my nose into this and that and get a bigger picture of what I was dealing with here. She brought it in, limes, spoon, and all, and I settled back with a book of Dali from her coffee table collection as she went off to pack the hookah.
After another interlude, she returned with this huge hookah, set it up with strawberry tobacco, and put on some Coldplay in the background. Whoa. So... um... she wanted the notes? She picked up my binder, looked through my scant five pages of notes, chose the last three and asked if she could photocopy them. Yeah sure, I said, taking a bubbly drag. Ok, and she put the binder down. Wasn't that what I had come here for, I thought? I guess that's not all.
I leaned back and we talked and talked. I was rather intrigued to hear what she had to say at first, and when I'd finished my tonic, I offered her some Jagermeister and Red Bull I just happened to have with me. The first time she said I shouldn't tempt her with it and the second, I poured her a glass. She told me how she hadn't been able to sleep last night and had woken up at 5 pm today. Especially now with the Red Bull, she didn't think she'd be able to sleep all night....
We talked about art and philosophy, the latter being her major, actually, and both being two things I love talking about. She showed me some of her sketches, a few of which were pretty good, and I duly complimented her on them. She asked if I was from Pennsylvania from my area code and it turned out that we hd gone to the same summer camp back at my home so we traded some stories about that. I was feeling the Russian fire a little, and I gave her Carl Jung's archetypal personality test, the third question seeming about bodies of water, but in fact indicative of her sex life. When told this, she gave a coy laugh.
At this point, the hookah had numbed my brain and I was like a ethanized bug, lazily flapping a wing and gazing around in wonderous nonchalance. This was everything I could possibly want and nothing I had really experienced before. Here was this absolutely gorgeous girl sitting diagonal to me taking turns puffing her hookah, sipping exotic liqueur, and talking about art, literature, philosophy, and life for hours on end. I didn't know what to do, the again, I didn't need to know what to do, everything just seemed to flow really well. I went into the bathroom and looked my surprisingly dashing self in mirror and asked, where am I? What am I doing here? Is this really happening?
Her roomates came home but generally left us alone. The apartment was set up in such a way, however, that one of them couldn't come in or out without having to pass through this girl's room. The thing about Jagermeister and Red bull is that it slows you down and then speeds you up. We had just finished hookah tobacco roll number two and she had loaded a third. I thought this was a bit much. I was slowing down, and suddenly I felt a little drowsy and a lot less interested in our conversation. The idea that I ought to leave suddenly appeared in my brain and issued forth from my smoky mouth. I got up, said we ought to do this again sometime, and walked out.
Out on the street, I went a good couple blocks or so in a happy daze thinking that the city was quite pretty when it hit me: what the **** was I doing? I had walked away from the phenomenal time I'd been having, and if I had just stayed a couple more hours, I probably could have stayed the night, especially because it had started raining shortly after I returned to my dorm. Telling my friends the story when I returned, they were aghast and crestfallen that I hadn't gotten any action despite profuse signalage. How blind I was! I was a tired man, let me sleep. I fumbled around a bit and hit the sack.
I managed to close my eyes before the red bull hit me. I've never had that stuff before, either. It was like sleep was a triangle and I only had two lines to work with. I would feel tired, my eyes would droop, but my body was AWAKE. So I'd been consigned to a heart to heart with my roomate while my mind tormented me with thoughts of what I could be doing instead of tossing and turning alone.
I have a paper due Thursday for philosophy that I can't afford to fail and for which I could legitimately use a second opinion. My recent study buddy, while foxy, has only succeeded in getting me 69, and not that kind. I'll definitely have to call her up and see if I can swing by tonight. But now I'm clouded with doubt where none should exist. I can imagine, restless as she would be, she called some other, more willing guy over to sate her desires, or perhaps she thinks I'm not on to her now. I hate how when you miss things like this, you can never really recapture the moment again. There's no save/reload. I can try, though. And it doesn't help that I'm so... immobile, I can never make a move, even after all that. I don't know what's wrong with me, I always need to freezeframe, go within and sort things out, make sure I'm on the right path, weigh the alternatives, decide my next course of action, and then take my tenative next step. Forget analysis, I have to DO. I have to do *her*.
What does Massassi think about this and what I should do, besides suspicions as to her looseosity?
From time to time in my weekly philosophy discussion group, this kid I sit with and I have always checked out this girl we called 'glasses chick' on the other side of the class who's both really hot but also comes off brilliant. The other day, we were getting our papers back and I got a 69 and it turned out she got a 100, and I said to her that she was someone I'd like to get to know. We talked a little, and on the way out, she was walking away, but when I made sure I had her name right, she asked whether I took good notes. Sure. She asked if she could copy them sometime. Why not. And I said we should exchange numbers, but her cell was dead, so I took hers down and said I'd call her later.
Fast forward a few days to yesterday. I walked out of philosophy lecture and decided I'd give her a call and see if she'd like to get some lunch, but I got her machine and left a quick message - while I was talking to her voicemail, however, she had called back and left a message on mine, so I called again and she said she had just woken up, but that she'd get back to me sometime later that day or the day after. Ok. I went on my way.
I was hanging out in a friend's room who was ragging on me for knowing all these girls when one, this one, in fact called. She said she was on the subway right now, but that she was heading back to her apartment and wanted to know if she could drop by and pick up my notes or if she'd prefer that I come over. I totally wanted to come over, and she said I could smoke her hookah while she copied my notes. Awesome. She said she'd call me back when she got in her neighborhood and give me directions. I got all psyched and a little panicked, and since I didn't actually *have* any notes, I went to the task of making some quickly...
After she had called with directions, I set off into the twilight city. I walked with thoughts of disbelief at where I was going and surmised that she must be some steamy seductress whose key to success is copying the notes of unsuspecting freshmen whom she'd have her way with. I wasn't complaining, mind you.
I buzzed her floor and tried to calm myself as she came down, looking astounding. She welcomed me and led me up and I was just soaking in the environment as we went up to floor four. Her room is larger than the one I share with my roomate, her bed, three times wider than mine, and excellently decorated to boot. I started looking around trying to gauge her by the environment she'd created herself, and I noticed a print on the wall from the Massachussetts Horticultural Society, some cameras, and books. Lots of books.
She led me to a sofa and asked if I'd like a drink. What did she have? Oh, water, tea, apple juice... vodka tonic. I chose the vodka tonic, hoping it might calm me down a little. I thought maybe I should make some conversation while she was in the kitchen, but instead took the time to frantically poke my nose into this and that and get a bigger picture of what I was dealing with here. She brought it in, limes, spoon, and all, and I settled back with a book of Dali from her coffee table collection as she went off to pack the hookah.
After another interlude, she returned with this huge hookah, set it up with strawberry tobacco, and put on some Coldplay in the background. Whoa. So... um... she wanted the notes? She picked up my binder, looked through my scant five pages of notes, chose the last three and asked if she could photocopy them. Yeah sure, I said, taking a bubbly drag. Ok, and she put the binder down. Wasn't that what I had come here for, I thought? I guess that's not all.
I leaned back and we talked and talked. I was rather intrigued to hear what she had to say at first, and when I'd finished my tonic, I offered her some Jagermeister and Red Bull I just happened to have with me. The first time she said I shouldn't tempt her with it and the second, I poured her a glass. She told me how she hadn't been able to sleep last night and had woken up at 5 pm today. Especially now with the Red Bull, she didn't think she'd be able to sleep all night....
We talked about art and philosophy, the latter being her major, actually, and both being two things I love talking about. She showed me some of her sketches, a few of which were pretty good, and I duly complimented her on them. She asked if I was from Pennsylvania from my area code and it turned out that we hd gone to the same summer camp back at my home so we traded some stories about that. I was feeling the Russian fire a little, and I gave her Carl Jung's archetypal personality test, the third question seeming about bodies of water, but in fact indicative of her sex life. When told this, she gave a coy laugh.
At this point, the hookah had numbed my brain and I was like a ethanized bug, lazily flapping a wing and gazing around in wonderous nonchalance. This was everything I could possibly want and nothing I had really experienced before. Here was this absolutely gorgeous girl sitting diagonal to me taking turns puffing her hookah, sipping exotic liqueur, and talking about art, literature, philosophy, and life for hours on end. I didn't know what to do, the again, I didn't need to know what to do, everything just seemed to flow really well. I went into the bathroom and looked my surprisingly dashing self in mirror and asked, where am I? What am I doing here? Is this really happening?
Her roomates came home but generally left us alone. The apartment was set up in such a way, however, that one of them couldn't come in or out without having to pass through this girl's room. The thing about Jagermeister and Red bull is that it slows you down and then speeds you up. We had just finished hookah tobacco roll number two and she had loaded a third. I thought this was a bit much. I was slowing down, and suddenly I felt a little drowsy and a lot less interested in our conversation. The idea that I ought to leave suddenly appeared in my brain and issued forth from my smoky mouth. I got up, said we ought to do this again sometime, and walked out.
Out on the street, I went a good couple blocks or so in a happy daze thinking that the city was quite pretty when it hit me: what the **** was I doing? I had walked away from the phenomenal time I'd been having, and if I had just stayed a couple more hours, I probably could have stayed the night, especially because it had started raining shortly after I returned to my dorm. Telling my friends the story when I returned, they were aghast and crestfallen that I hadn't gotten any action despite profuse signalage. How blind I was! I was a tired man, let me sleep. I fumbled around a bit and hit the sack.
I managed to close my eyes before the red bull hit me. I've never had that stuff before, either. It was like sleep was a triangle and I only had two lines to work with. I would feel tired, my eyes would droop, but my body was AWAKE. So I'd been consigned to a heart to heart with my roomate while my mind tormented me with thoughts of what I could be doing instead of tossing and turning alone.
I have a paper due Thursday for philosophy that I can't afford to fail and for which I could legitimately use a second opinion. My recent study buddy, while foxy, has only succeeded in getting me 69, and not that kind. I'll definitely have to call her up and see if I can swing by tonight. But now I'm clouded with doubt where none should exist. I can imagine, restless as she would be, she called some other, more willing guy over to sate her desires, or perhaps she thinks I'm not on to her now. I hate how when you miss things like this, you can never really recapture the moment again. There's no save/reload. I can try, though. And it doesn't help that I'm so... immobile, I can never make a move, even after all that. I don't know what's wrong with me, I always need to freezeframe, go within and sort things out, make sure I'm on the right path, weigh the alternatives, decide my next course of action, and then take my tenative next step. Forget analysis, I have to DO. I have to do *her*.
What does Massassi think about this and what I should do, besides suspicions as to her looseosity?
