…Really?!
I went on a date Saturday night with a girl I met a year ago in my Journalism class. She’s intelligent, unshy, and the anti-christ.
It started while I was trying to date her last year. I’d go over her house, we’d watch a movie or something, and I kept getting weird vibes from her roomates … who were boys. It was as if they were “Team Cock Blocking”. It was always this one guy, his brother, and their friend. For whatever reason, they were on the offensive. And as much as I like to think I’m a good cock blocker, cock blocking 3 guys, in their own place, is difficult even for the best of blockers.
After several of these dates (Read: Battle Royales) I knew something was just not right. It was this same week that this girl revealed to me that she was indeed living with her ex-boyfriend. I was relatively upset. I’d been squaring off with these douchers as if they were just “guys”. Had I known it was the ex, I would have walked in there cock out and guns blazing. Or, simply brought her over my place.
A few months later, despite her live in ex-boyfriend, we casually continued to talk. One day after class she suggests we go listen to music in her car. So, to set the scene, it’s dark and slightly cold. The kind of night where it’s the temperature that’s just above where no mattery how hard you try, you can’t see your breath. It was the kind of night that inspires one to jam hands into sweatshirt pockets. We were listening to “Sublime” and engaging in some existential conversation. Whilst diving into one of these notions, she takes her seat and drops it like it’s hot. I don’t think that I had any other choice but to follow suite.
Sitting there reclined in the calm night air, we started playing stealthy eye games. The kind of games where you only move your eyes whilst your blinking. The kind of game where you want to get caught, but don’t want to catch the other person. Finally, we locked eyes, and I went to kiss her. As I made this move, I found myself moving extroadinarily far. I found myself face to face with her. We were so close, I felt her exhaling over my top lip. She wasn’t going to kiss me. I made one last stand, kind of puppy dogging my eyes at her. Still no joy.
So, I shrunk back into my reclined seat very confused. I was ready to get the hell out of there. Quickly. She started rambling about she was in a “crazy place” and how this and that. Everything from dehydrated to pre-occupied with a test. She kept reiterating to me that she didn’t want to send “mixed signals”. I made a hasty exit out of the car, like it was on fire. She followed me, noting how she was late for class. She followed me all the way to my car. I said, “Bye, talk to you later.” She said, “Bye. Give me a hug!” I promptly informed her that I did not want to send mixed signals. Her last words to me were, “Screw you Josh!” 
Fast forward one year. We start talking again under the rouse of “How have you been?!”. One thing leads to another, and we setup a date for coffee. We agreed on a place and time. I even show up EARLY. She shows up… at the wrong place. Finally, I meet up with her. We exchange pleasantries, I get some coffee and sit down. As I’m sitting down, I notice she’s reading a piece of paper. I keep talking to her, and she’s clearly paying no attention to me. I notice that it’s not just some piece of paper, it’s a letter. One of many. She was reading her mother fucking mail. I was shocked, even taken aback. This was so offensive, I wasn’t sure what to say. So I went with my gut, “REALLY!?? You’re reading your mail?” She said that yes, she was. That she’s been busy. I managed to take a picture of her doing this whilst interrogating her. I thought without proof, no one would believe this. Normally, I take someone reading mail as a correlative to the fact that I’m boring. So I told her, “Read your mail later, let’s talk.”
What would you do?
