I have discovered that there is some sort of odd thrill in blogging about the things that I shouldn’t. It turns out that I love sharing my *private* life with the troves on the internet. Go figure.

In short, I’m a blogging whore.

Luckily for you, and sadly for me, I’m ok with this. In fact, I intend to celebrate it with this little tidbit from the history of my love life.

This past May, my little sister got married. I was intensely happy for her. I myself had just gotten out of an almost-marriage the previous fall and had spent months living in an electricity-less country where no one spoke English. Needless to say, I had been in the mood to have fun and do things that I shouldn’t for quite some time — this just happened to overlap with my sisters wedding, more specifically, with her groom’s wedding party.

A couple of weeks before the wedding, my sister and I, along with a couple of our crazy cousins went out for drinks at a restaurant that my family happens to own. There are several bars in the joint, and on one of the ladies’ jaunts to the bathroom, someone noticed that the groom and his party were at the other bar. Despite pleas to ignore them – this was a girls night after all, I hussled myself out to the boys’ bar and was rewarded with a drink and some shots – none of which I paid for. While I was out there, I started talking a few of the forbidden topics with one of the groomsmen – you know, religion and politics. It was a good conversation, and his ability to disagree with me without a) losing his backbone or b) taking some kind of weird personal offense to the fact that we each ascribed to different political parties was impressive (that’s way more difficult to find than you might think!)

Eventually, I made it back to the ladies where I shared my first impression of that particular groomsman. I was impressed, and he was cute – in a barely-taller-than-me-overly-innocent type of way. Not a bad thing – I liked being surprised by the ones who look like they have no idea what they’re doing.

One of my cousins – Jen – took it upon herself in her drunken state to waltz out to the boys bar and tell the groomsman of my attentions – we’ll call him DG – that I thought he was cute and wanted to sleep with him. I’m not usually down with doing things like we’re all actually 12, but I doubt he would have approached me himself, and Jen did make things easier. By the time we all made it out to the front bar to join the boys, including my sister, DG was laying it on thick. I even overheard him pull my sister aside as ask her if it was ok if he got with me. (We were all a little drunk)

We ended up talking for a few more hours at the bar as if no one else was there, and both decided to tag along when the announcement was made that the party was moving back to my sister’s house for more drinks and food. By this time, everyone was pretty tipsy, and I’m still not sure who drove who, but we all managed to make it back to the house. Here, DG and I sat close on the couch and generally wandered around with each other. It was also here that he decided to tell me about his girlfriend.

“She’s a total bitch.”

“Oh? How so?”

“You know, she just, she just isn’t ever happy. And she refuses to do anything about it. She’s a bitch.”

“You don’t sound very happy with her yourself. Are you planning on doing something about it?”

“Yeah, I mean, I care about her, I do. I just need to end things. We’re fighting right now. Things are practically over as it is.”

That was really all the confirmation I was looking for.

Drinking, cuddling, and paying no attention to anyone else continued. At one point, he passed out on the couch mid-party.

If anyone knows me well, they most likely know that I have a short tolerance for people who don’t know their own limits. I’m not saying that people shouldn’t get drunk, pass out, or react to alcohol – we all have, I’m just saying that you shouldn’t do it without planning on it. As an adult, I am fully capable of assessing any given situation and deciding whether or not it’s a good idea to exceed my limit. I expect the same from the people around me. Crazy Cinco-de-Mayo party where everyone is pounding back tequila and no one is leaving? Go for it! Intimate house-drinking party in which there is a girl who obviously enjoys intelligent conversation who you might actually want to get it on with? Maybe not so much.

I woke him up as I was getting ready to leave — I was not wasted, as I had assessed the situation prior and not had a drink in several hours. He insisted that he should leave to. I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea for him to drive. He then insisted on walking me out.

He followed me out to my car where we stood there for about 2 awkward seconds before he practically lunged at me. Back against my car, I thought, What the hell? No harm in making out with the boy.

He was a decent kisser and I was actually enjoying myself until he started simultaneously (and out of nowhere, might I add) grinding against me with the nether-region and scratching his nails up and down my back. Hard.

When he propped his leg up on the car to get a better grind-angle, I put an end to it.

Breaking away, I made moves to leave, saying that I would be more than thrilled to hang out some other time. It went a little something like this:

Me [a little out of breath]: Awesome, look, I should probably be going. I definitely have to work in the morning.

DG: Oh, yeah. Me too. I mean, I have to get up pretty early.

Me: Right. So, you have my number? Give me a call sometime. We’ll hang out.

DG: Yeah, I will.

My phone rings and I glance down at the number. It’s him.

[Awkward Pause]

DG: I really want to come home with you. You know, not to do anything, just to sleep. I would really like to hold you while I sleep.

Me [nervous chuckle]: Look, I really like you. This could be cool, but I just moved here. I’m crashing at a friends house right now because my house doesn’t even have any furniture in it.”

DG: I could come with you to your friends house. You know, to sleep.

Me: I don’t think that’s really a good idea. It’s not my house. Just give me a call sometime, ok?

DG: We could sleep on the floor.

Me:   …..

DG: You know, or in the car. We could sleep in the car. I just want to hold you.

Me: I’m going to go. I have to get up in the morning and I’m not sleeping in your car or on the hardwood floor of my empty house. You can still drop me a line sometime though.

I turned, got into my car and drove off. I hadn’t gotten two minutes down the road before he sent me a text message -“You’re unfair”

My response? “Yeah, but well worth the wait. Call me a different night ;)”

I was still trying to play the game. I should have considered all the signs.

The next morning he texted me asking me if I wanted to have dinner that weekend. I accepted, and we exchanged several back-and-forths over the next few days.

On Friday, he sent me a message that went like this – “Hey. Sorry but I’m not going to be able to hang out tonight. No hard feelings, ok?”

Me — “Oh, that’s cool. Did you want to reschedule?”

Him — “Not at this point.”

Me — “So do you really have some sort of conflicting plans or do you just not want to see me now that you’re not wasted out of your mind?”

(I always cut to the chase)

Him — “Honestly? A little of both.”

Me — “Fair enough, thanks for being honest.”

Him — “I’m always honest.”

Yeah, ok. Sure you are.

Normally, I would write a slightly awkward, slightly drunk encounter like this off as good blog fodder and move on. Except I still had to see this guy – we were both in my sisters up coming wedding. And I had to try – seriously hard – not to make things awkward for her sake. Lucky for me, he would totally ignore me on every other occasion that we had to see each other – there was no way I could make it more awkward.

And to top things off? He came to the wedding with his girlfriend – the “bitch” who was “never happy.”

I’m so totally hotter than her.