There is this slightly older guy that I have had a crush on all year. He works at a restaurant, and I know they say don’t orgasm where you eat, but I couldn’t resist. He was cute and nice, and honestly, it seemed like we had chemistry. I told myself that as a senior bucket list item, I had to ask him out. I spent all of last semester working up my courage, and laying some base plans. I was able to infiltrate the situation by interviewing him for a school project. Things went favorably. I invited him and his coworkers to my Christmas party, he gave me free food, and although he didn’t show up to that party, this exchange did happen:
Me: Yeah you should definitely come, anyone who works [blank] is welcome in my home.
Him: Hm, I don’t know about that, maybe just me?
Hottt. Also, did I mention he gave me free food? Anyway, winter break elapses, and I head back to school. Now it’s my last semester, and I give myself until the end of the first week to ask him out. Saturday night, I decide to email him.
Me: So, since you didn’t get a chance to come to my christmas party . . . How about drinks soon?
Approximately eight minutes later, I receive:
“Sounds good, when and where?”
I throw a mini dance party with my roommate, and proceeded to engage in a back-and-forth. I played it super cool, but still managed to drop my number – just in case “he needed to reach me.” Five minutes later, he texts! This is going so well, right? I throw him a wink face emoji, ’cause I am feeling sexy and confident.
We talk for another hour. He is going to a bar that night, and I can’t join because I am helping throw one of my housemates a Spongebob-themed birthday party (the only appropriate theme for turning 22). He wishes her a happy birthday, and says that Spongebob is “def. awesome“. All of his texts are lengthy, and his response times are short. I feel like I have hit the jackpot. I even sign off by saying, “Have a fun night, I’ll see you on Monday“, and he actually responds to get the last word: “Sounds good, I’ll drop you a line.”
Monday rolls around, and my anxiety mounts. He hasn’t texted yet . . . I decide I will just send him a message, to be safe. “Hey, still on for tonight?“
After half an hour: “I’m not going to make it. I’m sorry, just got a catering and lots to prep.“
NOOOOOOOOO. So cryptic! No raincheck?? I try to play it cool. “That’s okay, just let me know if and when you want to reschedule!” Oh crap, I put an “if” in there! Is he going to think that I don’t want to see him now? DAMAGE CONTROL MODE.
Me: “I mean I hope the ‘if’ part isn’t up for debate, but just in case.”
My smooth-o-meter is dropping by the second. I have forgotten everything that
Aziz taught me.
To make matters worse, he doesn’t text back. My day is ruined, and I call my mom to complain about it. Finally – five hours later – he responds. Readers, hang on to your seat belts; this is about to be a wild ride.
WAIT, HOLD UP, WHAT??????????????????
I think I can safely speak for everyone when I say, no one saw that coming. How do I respond? First I can’t contain myself, and I just laugh.
To make matters worse…
Hey girl, I know I made some eternal vows, but trust me – if I didn’t, we would DEF. kick it like that. SIR, YOU HAVE A WIFE/HUSBAND/SOME FORM OF SPOUSE AT HOME – GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. And what was the alternative to being “straight up?” Were you going to bring that up after I had tried to kiss you, or once I had taken my shirt off? Or maybe you were going to bring your spouse out to drinks with us??
As the reader, you might be thinking: Rookie mistake Caitlin, didn’t you check for a ring? Well, I did. Multiple times. The thot plickens.
Such an LOL – amiright?
There you have it, I am a bonafide home wrecker, and I didn’t even know it. I would say that this hurt, but as sketchy as it was, I am perversely flattered that he considered it. And if you think that is a messed up reaction, all of my friends encouraged me to hit on the other employees at the restaurant, because they were so deeply invested in getting free dumplings. However, the cake probably should go to my mother. I sent her the first screenshot – the one where he low-key confesses to being married, and she writes back:
“You knew he was married? Your opinion?“
JESUS MOM, NO I DIDN’T KNOW HE WAS MARRIED – WHAT KIND OF PERSON DO YOU THINK I AM? YOU RAISED ME!! If all else is lost, at least I know that my mom potentially supports any extramarital affairs that I engage in.
I would consider sending M. Night Shyamalan some form of compensation for evidently writing the script that is my life, but frankly, he hasn’t written anything this good since The Sixth Sense. It must be pure Kismet.
Images via, and via Caitlin Dorman ’16.
2 thoughts on “M. Night Shyamalan now directs my romance life”