Consistency Avoids Me Like the Plague (Consistently)

Of course, a series of (un?)fortunate events led me back into his bed. And a few beers. And whipped cream vodka. (Vodka, vodka, vodka). Just when I thought I was the ridiculous one! And somehow this is more confusing than before. I wouldn't say that I am confused because I know exactly what I want. I think Clarence is more than a little confused. Blamin' the charm I got.

Confrontation #1: The Duck Sound

First of all, let me say that my Friday morning mood was not based solely upon The Duck Sound. There were The Noisy Ass Bitches A Floor Above who were doing a workout video or Zumba video at nine in the morning when most people are sleeping or doing something which does not by any means require the sound of stomping added to it. There was also Da Freakout, when I turned over to the couch next to mine and saw and brown-headed figure with a blanket covering it, assuming it was Beatrice, who had occupied that space before I passed out to the sounds of National Geographic (doesn't that make it seem less drunk-ass college student?). Nope, I definitely woke up, started to talk to Beatrice, and then was answered with a man voice, which scared what little living daylight I had out of me. "Blaghhahahhhh!" was probably about how I responded.

I was already sufficiently annoyed at myself for sleeping over at the boys' apartment anyways, since I was still somewhat furious with Clarence and not wanting to humiliate myself further - obviously a goal I should give up. The night before I had talked to my friend for a long time and he said he told Clarence to not go to the party I was at. All his work for nothing, since I ended up the apartment anyways. That combined with a hangover and Noisy Ass Bitches and Da Freakout, I was not in a state where anyone running into me would find it pleasant.

Plop plop plop plop plop plop plop

So annoying, what the fuck is that?


Of course, the last person I wanted to see, with his broken ankle, plopping across the wood floor sounding like a duck and pissing me off. Always making oatmeal. I acted like I was asleep. Must. Exit. As soon as possible. Cannot. Confront. Thankfully, a text from my beloved Kathy needing her aid in getting Eustice's car from the towing company (things are ten times better concerning that, by the way). No more excuse to lay like a slug, not being able to sleep anyways.

Shoes on. Where's my wallet? There it is. Whataburger cup. So. Thirsty. Sip sip sip.


As I stood there the beast came back out from the cave and hobbled over... sadly asking if I was leaving? What did it look like I was doing in my dress from the night before and mascara all over my eyes? Getting the fuck out! And saying he hoped I would have a good morning? Oh please.

Awkwardly, I kind of leaped out the door. Like a wuss. Then proceeded to wait for the elevator for about ten minutes, banging my head against the side of it out of impatience/frustration/hungoverness/annoyance.

Not the end of the story.

Confrontation #2: Drunken Conversation About Our Non-Existent Relationship

Since we tend to have back-to-back raging parties with water polo, I was drunk again Friday night. Good drunk. I-don't-need-a-man drunk. Of course, at approximately midnight the spell wore off and Cinderella was stuck in the same room as Prince Charming. I avoided him, stayed with my best friends, talked to some of the other guys, introduced people, ranted in Spanish at someone. He was... talking to my best friends when I was doing something else, playing pong, getting introduced to the people I was not introducing to anyone. Awkward!

I don't remember how we started talking. But of course we did. Leave it to us ridiculous two to sit on someone's bedroom floor and attempt to talk out our not-problems since we aren't together. Wrap your head around that one. He was telling me how I deserve so much better. And I was telling him that I'm happy with how things were at that exact moment, and that's what I deserve.

Were you trying to get rid of me in a sneaky way, or do you really think that?


Somehow, we ended up locked in and trying to talk through things more. And he was kissing me? What? The? Fuck?

Only the lethal combination of drunkenness and horniness would lead me to give my key to my best friends, explain to them how to get home, and leave with the cripple only vaguely remembering the way back to the boys' apartment from where I was. I am an extremely slow walker when in competition with someone a couple inches taller than me and in possession of crutches. In retrospect, we probably looked hilarious, with me speed-walking after a really drunk cripple who was freakishly fast on crutches. And then we sat in the dirt and talked. And he didn't listen.

Finally got back. I can't remember if I got mad at him for not listening to me first, and then we had sex - or if we had sex, and then I got mad at him for not listening to me after we started talking again. The turn-on-your-side "you're not listening to me!" then silent treatment always works. Hopefully he's accepted that I'm a little bit of a curve ball mixed with over-sincerity. He acts like he gets lied to a lot.

That, I don't do.

Random sidenote: the kid sleeps in the weirdest way, with one leg totally over mine, like I'm going to run away or something. Probably not gonna happen, as long as you make me breakfast and I get to re-imagine you hopping on one leg to the kitchen with nothing on to make it. Laughed like a little child at that one.

With the morning came either the most bullshitted conversation of all time or just simply the weirdest.

"We can't have sex anymore. I don't want to sleep with anyone else until she's my wife. That's how it's supposed to be. Please try to help me with this. I don't really want to do this, but I know it's the right thing."

Um hell no. And I don't agree that that's how it's supposed to be. And I won't help you. And I don't think you should do anything contrary to what you want to do, especially if it's not harming anyone else. My words were probably a little more eloquently expressed (with some pouty faces mixed in). We talked for a long time about my past relationship. And he found out my age. Gasp. And told me I act about 25. Which is true.

that I am so confident
and he's fascinated to hear my cynical side because I seem so innocent
I'm not innocent
but he feels like I am
but I'm not
that we didn't have sex that was meaningless
I told him I had sex because I liked him
and he talked about that girl who I thought he'd never bring up
but I didn't tell him that I already knew
and she got feelings because they hooked up
he feels guilty
I told him I am nowhere near in love with him
because it's way too early to tell
he said he loves pillow talk
what straight guy uses the term "pillow talk?"
- one with sisters.
blah blah blah why are you talking to me
if it seems like you want nothing to do with me 90% of the time

"Your chariot, m'lady."
He drove me home, and it got awkward when I was getting out. I went side kiss. He went real kiss. It was somewhere awkward and in between, where we belong. Consistently inconsistent.

It just really bothers me that he told me I deserve something better. What a douche move. Leaving me wondering if he really thinks so, or just wants me gone. I can be gone. For the amount of honest conversation we had, I could almost think he really believes what he's saying. I almost think he really believes he can not have sex with anyone until he's married. Newsflash: if you want to marry someone, or get engaged, you sure as hell want to fuck them.

But my heart knows better than to think he's looking out for me, I'm so cynical. Isn't that fascinating?