This was pretty rad.

meaghano:

Ha. I loved all of this, mild misogyny aside. I want oh_me and caragh to get married. Caragh, you game? I think he just turned 17.

ohmeohyou:

I’m going to talk about this here because my therapist is out of the town and I’m feeling the need to get this out.  So listen up.

This is the story of me growing up.

Tonight I went to the movie with a girl.  And for those of you wondering, this is not the fore-mentioned girl that I asked Meaghano for help with.  That is a girl I actually like, who I will call Hope.  This is a girl who I don’t like, whom I will call Satan.

My plans fell through for the night and so I decided to go to a movie with Satan, who was texting me about doing so.   And so I, having no plans (which is not technically true because I could have found something else because I am popular) decided to go to the movie with her.

I told Satan I would pick her up because I used logic to determine that if we’d be making out, it’d most likely happen in a car and if we took separate cars this would not happen.  So I paid twenty dollars for gas and drove in the city to get her.

There were several things that I didn’t like about Satan from the get-go.  First of all, she looked a bit like Lord Voldemort.  However, if you’re in high school this doesn’t really matter.  Besides, looks are only skin deep.  And I’m a huge fan of Ralph Fiennes.  Another thing I didn’t like was how unfunny she was.  The majority of the conversation was either me saying how cool I was while thinking about other things, or her telling a bad story.  She also did that thing where she said she liked something that was a bit off so that I would think that she’s cool and different.  I didn’t.  Here’s an example.

Me: Hold on, I have to go get my parking ticket validated.

Her: Ooh, can I do it?

Me: No.

Her: I love doing it.  I’m like a little kid who likes hitting the elevator button.

That’s a mild version of the conversation.  Mostly because when she started up with something like this, I zoned her out.

During the movie I nearly forgot about how much I hated her.  Mostly this was because she wasn’t talking and I didn’t have to look at her in the eyes, which I had trouble doing.  I was able to overcome the urge to pretend to go to the bathroom and just leave her there.  I even went the bathroom and only stared at myself in the mirror for a minute without giving myself a pep talk.  I don’t want to admit it, but I even went as far as to but my hand on her thigh while she put her arm on me.  Not proud of that.

But once the movie was over, it was back to the bad dialogue.  Here’s some more:

Her: Can you give me a piggyback ride to the car?

Me: No.

Her: Aww, man.

Me: You can give me one.

Her: You’re too heavy. And you’re taller than me.  My feeeeetttt are tired.

More of this.  She even went as far as to insult my music, which was “Colorado” by Grizzly Bear, saying “You’re dad listens to weird music.”  Then, in the dealbreaker of the night, I asked her what she did like.  And she answered with this:

Her: I like ALL KINDS OF MUSIC EXCEPT FOR WHATEVER THIS IS AND, LIKE, HARD METAL.

She does not like all kinds of music.  That’s a way of saying, “I have no soul or personality.”

When I pulled up at her house, I had allotted for ten minutes of make out time, but I ended up just hugging her and watching her get out of the car.  I’d like to think it was because I hated her and liked Hope, but I think it was because I didn’t have the balls and my lips were feeling kind of chapped.

But as I left her house, I turned on “Niobe” by Caribou and began to think.  This wasn’t what I wanted.  Sure, her thighs felt all right while watching Sherlock Holmes, but so does any thigh.  Sure, I could have hooked up with her, but in addition to not having the balls, I’m not like that anymore.  I don’t want the easy, annoying girl who wants to kill Harry Potter.  Hope might not even be prettier than Satan, but there’s something about her, something that has to do with her…personality.  She’s funny, but not in a loud way.  She laughs at my jokes. She’s a bit mousy.  She lives near me and drives her own car.  She’s cute.  She’s funny.  She’s all those things.

I don’t even know her really but I was able to conjure all this up as opposed to the Satan I had spent the night with.  And it took an entire drive home for me to finally shake the feeling that I was doing the wrong thing.  The really wrong thing.  I think that’s because I’m grown up now.  I want someone who makes me happy, maybe not the spend the rest of my life with, but someone I can laugh with who understands that sometimes things get weird.  Someone who likes a song and not all kinds of music.  Someone who lets me validate my own fucking parking.

Thanks to Meaghano, Hope, and not Satan.  Thank you.