16 September 2006

Developmentally delayed.

A group of friends and I went to a bar last night for a few drinks and to meet one of the girl's new(ish) man. Said man was very amicable and held his own with a table full of strangers quite well (cute and in a band too, well done Ms. A).

While there I was approached by a woman in a bright red top and matching lipstick as to whether I would be willing to meet her very cute single friend? As flattering as the offer was (why me?), why couldn't the guy come up to me himself? And, by the way, I'm not actually single. Then one of the guys at my table decides the woman in the red is quite desirable (after striking out with our waitress) so would I please go talk to her? I did (she's not single either), but I was silently wondering when men regressed to high school? After all, the "I'll tell my friend who will tell her friend that I think she's cute" thing worked so well then?

Around midnight, after all the fixing up fell through, I got a text from a NY (male) friend of mine exhuberantly informing me that he was, in fact, in my city drinking right now. Could we meet up, he needed my advice? Meet up we did and he talked (or rather, bitched) through last call. He called his friends (who he ditched to see me), but they weren't answering so he was now stranded. I offered him my futon, but he would have to be out early because I had to wake up and finish an assignment and get to lab. Back at my place I pull out the futon and get him a pillow. I go to bed. He knocks on my door, he's leaving, he's found his friends. As he's saying goodbye it dawns on me (from some of the untranscribed conversation) that he thought by "futon" I meant "my bed" and by "need to leave early" I meant "we'll have exhausting sex". What's worse is that, judging by the text I got the next day, he still thinks it will happen one day (never).

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