The Guy Who Said I Love You...After An Hour

*Preface: TO ALL MY YOUNG READERS: CONSIDER THIS A CAUTIONARY TALE! DON'T DRINK!  Well, you shouldn't be drinking anyway, but you get the point.*

A few weeks ago, I had a much needed girls' night with some of my favorite ladies.  We went and painted at one of those 'have a glass (or seven) of wine and paint this *insert inanimate object here*' places, which was surprisingly fun.  Afterward, we headed to a place where we could karaoke.  It was turning out to be a frightfully normal night.

Cut to a couple of hours into our outing - scene opens on me sitting at a table with one of the girls, making fun of people and generally minding my own business.  Another girl has stopped and is talking to a few of the other patrons; one of those patrons happens to be Drunky McGee, the hero out our story.  Drunky McGee, the skinny, dorky, obviously intoxicated guy who hit on me.  Drunky McGee, the poor soul who has gone down in my personal history as the guy who said 'I Love You,' after knowing me for a nanosecond.

When I hang out with my friends, I'm silly and loud.  I laugh a lot.  I talk to strangers in accents.  I have a fun time.  That means I usually strike up a conversation with people who approach me - you never know who you're going to meet!  (What is that old saying?  Everyone's a stranger until you meet them?  I live by that.)  So, when Drunky McGee sidled up to me and start to chat, I didn't think anything of it.  Until he grabbed my hand and started holding it.

I should have run away right then, but I didn't.  I chalked it up to the guy having a few too many beers, pulled my hand away and jumped up on stage to sing a tragic rendition of 'Lady Marmalade.'  While we were away from the table, a friend of my friends' told Drunky McGee that I had a boyfriend.  Ol' Drunky accosted me when I headed to the restroom and asked me if it was true.  I confirmed his suspicions.  He teared up.  HE ACTUALLY TEARED UP.  He went back to his table and I went on to the restroom where some girl told me all about her issues.  (It was a fun night, all around.)

Then it gets interesting - he stopped me while I was walking back to my table and said he didn't believe me.  He couldn't believe me.  I was lying!  He knew he was supposed to meet me and I was 'pushing' him away.  I kept trying to leave and he kept grabbing my arm.  (Internal dialogue: Oh Lawd, what have I gotten myself into now?)  I told him to ask my friends, but then an idea hit me: I needed to mess with this guy.  I was going to be a little crazy with him, in the hopes that he would run in the opposite direction.

As Drunky was asking my friends if I was in a relationship, they responded with a 'yes,' until I gave them a weird look.  One of them stuttered and stopped, saying something like, "Well, she did last week, so unless something happened..." 

That segue lead me perfectly into my best fake-crazy speech of all time.  It was an Oscar worthy soliloquy.  I summoned tears to my eyes and said in a shaky voice: "I'm in love with him, but I CAN'T handle it!  What do you do when you LOOOOOOVE someone so much, but can't come to terms with it?  Maybe I just need to be single! BUT I'm no good single!  I'm a good girlfriend!  I think about him ALL. THE. TIME. But does he think about me?!?!  He's so handsome and wonderful and I'm just awful!  Do you think I'm awful?  Aren't I just the worst??  WAIT! Don't answer that!  I couldn't handle if I disappointed ANOTHER person.  I just don't see why he would like me." 

Then I walked away.

It seemed to work.  Success!  I didn't see him for the rest of the night!  Until we left, that is.

As we were getting ready leave, I feel an arm around me.  It's Drunky, ready to talk.  He leans up to my ear and, well,  here's an excerpt of our (honest-to-God) conversation for your reading pleasure:

Drunky McGee: "Have you ever known that you met someone for a reason?"

Me: "Yes. Most of the time, I'm wrong."    

DM: "Have you ever felt like something is so right?"

Me: "Yeah!  These jeans I have on!  As soon as I put them on, I just knew they'd be my new favorites.  That's about it."

DM: *garbled*

Me: "Huh?"

DM: "I love you."

Me: "Oh, honey. No, no. Oh, you are drunk."

DM: "No, I'm in love with you."

Me: "Oh, honey, you won't even remember this tomorrow."

DM: "Let me come home with you.  I just want to wake up and have you there."

Me: "Oh, sweetie.  Where are your friends? You need to leave.  You need a good sleep."

DM: "I need you."

Luckily, I was saved by another friend who had been talking to Drunky earlier in the night.  I snuck out and haven't seen him since.  I assume he woke up with a raging (and well-deserved) hangover and didn't remember a single thing.

I'm just going to go out on a limb and say I think Drunky McGee had some emotional issues.  I know that alcohol impedes your ability to filter yourself, but it seemed to extended far beyond the regular things I encounter.  I was astounded.  I didn't understand where that even came from; maybe it worked on other girls?  Maybe he was trying to hustle me?  Who knows! 

Honesty moment: I also felt preeeeetty good about myself.  Some dude was all in love with me and whatnot, after just an hour.  *pats self on back*

~j

The Epihany

I'm a worrier.

Some of you know this, some of you have found this out reading the blog and some of you have no idea.  Often, when something causes me to worry, I sit and just think about and stew over the circumstances surrounding the thing that's making me have worried face.  (You know the face: furrowed brow, far-away look in the eyes, biting of the lip.)  I spin it over and over in my head, looking at it from different angles, trying to explain what happened, trying to reason out why it happened, trying to figure out how it fix it.

My worrying occasionally consumes me.

And it really annoys Mr. Wild Card.

I found myself worrying over an ex-girlfriend on Mr. Wild Card a few months ago.  We were spending lots of time together and I was learning more about his past.  The more I learned about his relationship with a particular ex, the more it seemed like the break up didn't make sense.  Mr. WC assured me that it had been coming to the point in the relationship where it needed to end, but I knew that she definitely didn't want the break up to happen.  I sat on this for a little while and then, slowly, but surely, a seed of doubt and worry grew into a full-blown plant.

Yes, I know what you're already thinking: HE BROKE UP WITH HER, YOU DUMMY.  HE'S DATING YOU NOW.  IF HE WANTED TO DATE HER, HE WOULD BE.

Trust me, guys.  I tried telling myself that, but my brain went bananas.  I started comparing myself to her (save your commentary, I already know that was stupid) and began to feel threatened by someone who Mr. WC no longer wanted to date.  All the positive self-talk I could muster wasn't helping.  I was stuck in the wasteland of uncertainty, a place I had created for myself.

Then, one day, as I was talking to someone about a completely different topic, it hit me: Mr. WC feels about his ex like I feel about E-Mail Man, my last boyfriend. 

E-Mail Man was someone who I talked about marriage with, someone who I thought about building a family with and then it ended.  He's a perfectly nice person, but he just wasn't MY person.  There wasn't anything 'wrong' with the relationship per se, but we were really different.  Too different, as it turns out.  But when E-Mail Man and I started dating, it was such a breath of fresh air to find someone who wasn't crazy, was well-spoken, was normal and nice that we tried to make it work because there wasn't anything glaringly wrong.  Maybe there wasn't anything particularly wrong with Mr. WC and his ex, but it wasn't right either.  What a mind-melter connection.

Mr. Wild Card had told me several times exactly what I finally understood, but I just didn't hear him.  And, what's worse, I didn't tell him what I was thinking about - which could have eliminated all my concerns in one swoop.  I let my self-doubt get in the way and I let my negative thoughts take over.  Why did I do that?  Because I couldn't deal with the fact that someone so great and compatible is in my life and I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop?  Am I really that cynical?

Once I had my own Oprah "A-ha" moment, I struck a deal with myself: don't worry about things that aren't an issue and don't make an issue out of things that aren't even on the radar.  Constantly waiting for everything to fall apart is not the way God wants me to live my life.  It's freeing, really.  I'm still working on it and I still fail at it, but I'm trying.

I'm actually trying.  I'm making an effort.  Geez, I'm must be in love.

~j