I THINK I HAVE A BOYFRIEND
I’ve been dating someone for a couple weeks now— K. I haven’t mentioned him both because I forgot and no one likes that smug bitch who says shit like “you’ll find someone when you’re not looking”. We met right after I’d deleted my OKC profile and I was very concerned about how I was going to meet people the old fashion way. Or if I was ever going to get laid again. And then I found someone when I least expected it! (I rest my case— that was annoying.)
K and I were set up on a blind date by a mutual friend who had long ago worked at the bar that currently employs him. After running into him one night— she confirmed he was single, showed him pictures of me on her phone and then demanded we both be at the Red Derby the following Wednesday at 7:30 sharp.* We met, we drank canned beer and didn’t hate each others guts.
That was almost a month ago. We’ve since progressed from making out on street corners to full fledged sleepovers. We’ve got a full frat house as is, but there is nothing like 7+ people walking out the door in the morning. We don’t shower together because it’s sexy, but because the AM shower schedule doesn’t allow for an addition person to get clean. Full house, one bathroom.
K even went to the zoo with me. If you can tolerate the DC zoo on a Saturday afternoon in spring time**and deal when accidentally meeting my dad on the second date, I’ll keep you around for a bit. He also doesn’t take personal offense to how much I fidget at night and is an excellent snuggler.
IN OTHER NEWS
This is a real thing. My cousin Josephina is coming to DC Memorial Weekend. When I asked her what she wanted to do while she was in town she said, “We could sit in bed and watch Hulu all day. I could care less. Although, I heard that the parks in DC have crazy awesome squirrels.” So there’s that.
OH YES, IT’S LADIES NIGHT
Girls’ night was a great success. We ate tacos, we drank margaritas, we shot air soft guns in the backyard like gangstas. Following a group sing-a-long of Marc Cohn’s Walking in Memphis, we considered and discarded a road trip to Tennessee (we were not sober) and opted for karaoke instead. Following the traditional jell-o shots at a creepy dive around the corner, we went to the gay bar and belted out Spice Girls at the top of our lungs.
Knowing what we know about tequila (it makes everyone slutty and clothes fall off), the gay bar was a good choice. Far easier to behave ourselves when surrounded by men that don’t like our parts. I should not have biked myself home, but arrived safe and sound (sorry, Mom) and luckily got myself out of there before the birthday girl insisted everyone take rail shots of tequila.
Overall— a most excellent weekend. Hope yours was the same.
*Everyone should set up single people in this fashion. And I owe my friend one— so if you know any single 30 something tall men who live in DC proper and are a little bit hipster, give me a shout. She’s a catch.
**Although the tourist watching is phenomenal— you’ll never see so many people with missing teeth and terrible tattoos in one place in your entire life.