This is going to be one of those blog posts that I will eventually regret and delete, hopefully before someone considers hiring me for a well-paid career, because THIS POST IS NOT ABOUT FASHION OR ADVERTISING OR SPANISH IT'S ABOUT A HORRIFIC DATE I WENT ON, PARENTAL ADVISORY SUGGESTED jk.
Saturday, July 28th, 2 AM
Eating at Whataburger with two friends after a ordinary night of bar-hopping.
Eating with one friend inside while the other friend is outside.
Inside friend leaves momentarily to get outside friend.
Augusta sits alone eating.
Person walks up to Augusta
Friends come back inside.
Friends leave Whataburger.
Sunday, July 29th, 12 PM
Receives text from said person.
Plans to go to Sheridan's at 8 with said person.
And now our story can begin...
FIRST OF ALL, if you are going to offer to take someone on a date, DO NOT OFFER TO SHARE WITH THEM. LET THEM BUY WHAT THEY WANT. NO ONE WANTS TO SHARE ICE CREAM, EVEN IF IT'S SOMEONE THEY DO KNOW. ugh... So we shared this like brownie concrete thing and I literally ate 2 bites, two OF THE FIRST bites. ugh. ugh. ugh.
OH and here comes my favorite part, HE DOES THEM ON PSYCHEDELIC (his word) DRUGS!!!!!! LOLZ!!! LIKE SHROOMS AND ACID AND WORDS I HAVE NEVER EVEN HEARD OF!!
Did I mention he is from Albuquerque, New Mexico? Which I find sad, because, I myself, am a New Mexican, and he is just.................. so not enchanting.
So we leave Sheridan's and go walk around campus because he just transferred to Tech and wants to see the campus blah blah. We start talking about music. He looks like the type who would be into Coldplay or Bon Iver, but no no no no no no no. He starts going into full-on detail regarding his passion for Beyonce.
Beyonce. Beyonce. *how to scare girls away* As if the yoga thing wasn't gay enough, this guy tells me he is obsessed with the "R&B vibes" of effing Beyonce. I like Beyonce, I really do, but IF YOU'RE A BOY, DON'T DROP THE BEYONCE BOMB ON THE FIRST DATE. SAVE THAT UNTIL 4 YEARS AFTER MARRIAGE AT LEAST OR SOMETHING. JUST LIE.
DON'T BE YOURSELF, AT ALL COSTS.
Somewhere along in the conversation, he finds it necessary to ask me how much I pay for rent. Um, WHY DON'T YOU JUST GO AHEAD AND ASK ME HOW MUCH I WEIGH??? LET'S JUST GET ALL THE INAPPROPRIATE QUESTIONS OUT THERE. So I just answer honestly.
He then says, "You kind of seem like a rich daddy's girl."
To which I said:
REALLY???? DO I??? WELL LO FREAKING SIENTO FOR HAVING EXCEPTIONAL TASTE IN HANDBAGS???????? Gawd. I gave him the death stare, he apologized but like.................... ugh. Gawd.
So we are walking along and he says, "Wow look at that tree!!!" Like, yoga boy is EXTREMELY fascinated by this tree. This stupid freaking tree. I looked at him weird and thought, are you on acid right now???? But just went along with it and followed him to this freaking tree. He then starts to climb this tree. I was like..... Can you not climb a tree right now? He replies that he is total hippie, and just loves nature and earth.
He tells me to climb the tree. I said, you clearly don't know me, but no, I'm not climbing a tree.
-2 minutes later-
So I'm in the damn tree. With my new Target sandals, and my fabulous handbag from Spain, and I'm like freaking Tarzan jungle boy in this freaking tree on freaking campus. Ugh. *so not ideal*. We end up getting out of the tree, NOT BEFORE I SCRAPE MY DELICATE PORCELAIN SKIN THOUGH, and decide to leave campus and go back to his apartment so he can show me his drawings (he's an art major, which truly explains a lot) and listen to Beyonce's new CD. Yay. Terrific. Yay.
We get to his apartment, it's ugly, lah tee dah, I'm like where are your drawings, I'm tired. I'm tard. He then pulls out papers with faces on it. He tells me it's his face. He draws his face. So when this guy isn't doing yoga for hours, or climbing trees, or smoking shrooms, or WHATEVER IT IS YOU DO WITH SHROOMS, he looks in the mirror, makes weird faces, and draws them with colored pencils.
I proceed to start snooping around his room. I found a Harry Potter book (marginally redeems himself) in Dutch. It's in Dutch. Apparently he speaks Dutch. Which probably would have been cool if it had been ANYONE ELSE, but this guy was already so weird, that a Dutch Harry Potter book just didn't help his situation. I had fun reading the Dutch Harry Potter book out loud, trying to drown out "Who run the world (girls)" by Beyonce. I HATE THAT SONG. It wasn't until he tried to teach me to enunciate the dutch words correctly that I politely said STFU and slammed the book shut.
So. What now.
Unspecified amount of time later
"Ummm is my chin bleeding?? Like, ouch." -me
"Are you sure....."
Before you completely judge me, this guy his an exceptional kisser, and is actually attractive, minus his weird personality/hobbies/everything else. ALL WE DID IS KISS, ALSO. The thing is, he had what you would call "stubble" and even though he claims he shaved that day, it was growing back. Is mild to moderate "stubble" literally MASSACRED my dainty sensitive angel skin.
Let's review the damage, shall we.
|HOME REMEDIES FOR MICRODERMABRASION|
|That red dot? THAT IS BLOOD. SANDPAPERED AND READY FOR PAINTING.|
|IT HURT TO SMILE FOR THREE DAYS.|
|The picture I mass texted to half of my phone book the next day.|
It is almost back to normal, it is just extremely peely and dry looking. NOT ONE SINGLE BLACKHEAD, HOWEVER. Probably because 9 layers of skin were lemon zested off.
To my relatives who had to read this, I apologize. Lol. Lawls.
And no, I am not talking to this guy anymore. Obviously. EVER SO OBVIOUSLY.
MORAL OF THE STORY:
DO NOT GIVE YOUR NUMBER OUT TO FELLOW EATERS AT WHATABURGER,
EVEN IF IT IS THE NICE WHATABURGER ON UNIVERSITY STREET