Chasing Dave: That Night
Before I say anything else, I must admit a bitter truth: I have commitment issues. Guys just don't want to commit themselves to a girl like me, whatever the reason may be. I have always had bad luck when it comes to love. Be it real-life crushes or celebrity crushes (they sort of get into relationships right when I start drooling over 'em), there has never been a happy ending. But that was before that night, and that night is where my story begins.
So, it was a boring February because:
a) I knew it was gonna be just like last year;
b) there was much prep to be done before finals week; and
c) post-New Year's parties were about to hit.
And I know it sounds cool, but post-New Year's parties are no fun. Especially when there are about 10 parties a week and you've got friends who would rather kiss a toilet seat than make an appearance. But my friend Clara got a boyfriend sometime around New Year's and she told me, "When you're in this sort of commitment, you HAVE to be fearless in public." And apparently, that meant attending some of those lame parties. Also, that I was her cover.
As soon as we got to the party, I was ditched and left alone, staring at people talking and laughing, like in movies where the protagonist is dreaming about being in a party where she has nobody to talk to and gets insecure thinking everyone's secretly making fun of her. Except that was actually happening. People were looking at me and giggling. I was starting to sweat like a pig, desperately wishing I'd find somebody to talk to so the attention would fade. Why were they doing that, you ask? Were they just being mean? Was I wearing my underwear before my pants? Was someone going to push me into the pool? Was there even a pool?
And then I saw what it was all about: Dave was standing behind me. He had been moving around the party talking to people like a mini-socialite, as if talking to him was meant to happen someday in their lives. Dave is the kind of guy in rom-coms you fantasize about, wishing he would canoodle with you instead of the actress. He's like the perfect reincarnation of Jesse from Pitch Perfect and yet is as icy and mysterious as Mr. Darcy. Translation: Swoooon.
So Dave, rom-com, swoony Dave, my savior from conversational purgatory, goes ahead and says, "Hi". Now, I know y'all are probably thinking that this is it, aka the moment when our eyes would meet and we'd fall headfirst in love with each other and drive off into the night, but it wasn't. It so wasn't. Instead of falling in LOVE, I fell on the ground (not intentionally, I might add.)
Even though we talked like no one even existed, I didn't know it would be that big a deal in the future, you know? I didn't think he would last on my crush-o-meter for so long (that thing switches by the hour!). Plus, the last time I had seen him was at a school quiz bowl when I was six and he was eight, so we barely knew each other. And okay, he's a little older. That doesn't change anything. Does it?
He told me how amazing he thought I was when he found out I was into Family Guy as much as he was, and that he was surprised I wasn't in a relationship (although it wasn't that surprising—guys just aren't awesome enough for me yet). And I'm not just pulling lovey-dovey stuff out of nowhere, but it was most definitely a starry night filled with mushy romance—all except the part where he queerly mentioned that he was leaving for college in two months. That sort of broke my heart and made me feel cheated on for I had mapped out a whole life ahead of us and wrote a song about it then realized I was sitting in a coffee shop. (Sorry, weird T-Swizzle reference.) Anyway, he could've been just messing with my feelings, right? Like, isn't that what most hot guys do? Behave like jerks?
And that, Sparkletoes, is why I swore to forget all about him and pretend like it never happened... until he added me on Facebook.
Stay tuned for Part 2...