We're goin' to the country! (and other ballads.)
You know those people who live simple, uncomplicated lives? The ones who wake up in the mornings, happy to have the sun on their faces and thrilled by the prospect of putting the kettle on? I am rapidly learning I'm not one of those people, no matter how badly I want to be. This makes me sad and frustrated. But hey, at least it's all for shits and giggles later.
Freshman boy and I had a falling out. There are details I'll omit for everyone's sake, least of all my own. Essentially he told me he had fallen in love with me and I freaked out. I told him I wasn't looking for anything serious, that he's a great guy and so much fun to be around and that if this were even a month later, things might have been different... that's the tragic part. He's so great. If only he hadn't told me he was in love with me. We made out once, for Christ's sake. That doesn't warrant a declaration of love, especially in text message form not thirty minutes after he went back to his room. The funny/sad thing is that all my friends use it as a huge joke. They call him the Heartbreak Kid. It makes me simultaneously feel like laughing and vomiting. Since my return from fall break yesterday, I've seen him in Commons at the salad bar approximately three times. We haven't made eye contact once. He still looks crushed. I still feel like the biggest asshole ever, despite the fact that I explained everything about the Boy/Schuy/awful break-up situation and he said we're cool and we still joke like we used to, although not really. Sigh. My life is a crappy after-school special. The even more tragic part is that I'm starting to get used to it.
I went to Caroline's for fall break with my friend Afroz, who's from California, and - you'll love this - Schuy. It was incredibly awkward and involved her bitching me out in the bread aisle of the supermarket for "sassing her." I can't even talk about it. I just start cracking up. At the time, though, I froze up like I always do because people never talk to me like that. Generally speaking, they speak to me with respect. Then again, she is a colossal bitch. Case in point: a group of us went camping for the latter part of break in Acadia National Park (which was unbelievable sick and unbelievably cold, by the way). It was me, Caroline, Afroz, Mateo (the one I have a growing crush on), my friend I will call Orange Boy (he always wears the same orange jacket), and Schuy. That first night it was pouring down rain, but it finally let up enough for us to start a fire and make some smores. We all huddled around the flames; I was sitting next to Mateo, and we were pushing each other and hugging each other like our relationship always entails. Mateo is a very physical person. So anyway, as per usual with Schuy, the conversation turned to sex. She suggested we play Truth or Dare, which really means Truth About What You've Done or Haven't Done Sexually, Depending On Your Levels of Sluttitude. Charming game, really. After watching us from across the fire, where she wasn't the center of every boy's attention and was therefore turning thirteen jealous shades of purple, she turned to Mateo and said, "Truth or dare?" He looked at me with his goofy grin and said, "Truth." "Okay," she said, "do you want to hook up with Bridget?" MOTHER FUCKER. I thought briefly about reaching across the fire and choking her to death, but settled instead on turning bright red and laughing nervously. He laughed too - he didn't answer for the longest time - and then jokingly threw his arm around my shoulder and said, "Obviously!" Everyone was giving us these looks. I felt like dying. He made a quick exit to check the score of the Red Sox game on the radio in his car. "Let's open this to the circle," said Schuy, her weird competitive gleam in her eyes. I shook my head frantically, but she kept going. "If you had to hook up with anyone in our friend group, who would it be? Bridget?" The flames cast dark shadows on her face. I stuttered. I hemmed. I hawed. And because I'm bad at concealing the truth when the truth is but a foot away from me listening to the Red Sox, Orange Boy figured out my answer. Luckily, Orange Boy and I are good friends who have dirt on each other, so it's fine. Later that night she insisted on sleeping next to Mateo "for warmth," even though sleeping bags generally INSULATE, dumbass. Thankfully he refused to sleep next to her - he slept perpendicular to the row of us at my feet. The rest of the camping trip was a combination of her attempts at flirting with him (which didn't work; he's too clueless) and my attempts to repair my relationship with him and diffuse the tension Schuy created. I'm still not sure what's going to happen. Maybe nothing. Then again, my life is "Friends" with more sexual innuendo than your basic porno, so who knows. No. Scratch that. My life is the part of high school I intentionally missed out on when I chose to go to St. Mary's. Boo.
The saga continues. Inquiring minds want to know: will Schuy remain my mortal enemy forever? Will Mateo ever see me as more than a friend? Will Heartbreak Kid seek revenge by chopping me up into little pieces and leaving them in the mop bucket for the janitor to find? If you choose yes, go to page 124! If you choose no, go home - you're clearly thinking of someone else's life.
Freshman boy and I had a falling out. There are details I'll omit for everyone's sake, least of all my own. Essentially he told me he had fallen in love with me and I freaked out. I told him I wasn't looking for anything serious, that he's a great guy and so much fun to be around and that if this were even a month later, things might have been different... that's the tragic part. He's so great. If only he hadn't told me he was in love with me. We made out once, for Christ's sake. That doesn't warrant a declaration of love, especially in text message form not thirty minutes after he went back to his room. The funny/sad thing is that all my friends use it as a huge joke. They call him the Heartbreak Kid. It makes me simultaneously feel like laughing and vomiting. Since my return from fall break yesterday, I've seen him in Commons at the salad bar approximately three times. We haven't made eye contact once. He still looks crushed. I still feel like the biggest asshole ever, despite the fact that I explained everything about the Boy/Schuy/awful break-up situation and he said we're cool and we still joke like we used to, although not really. Sigh. My life is a crappy after-school special. The even more tragic part is that I'm starting to get used to it.
I went to Caroline's for fall break with my friend Afroz, who's from California, and - you'll love this - Schuy. It was incredibly awkward and involved her bitching me out in the bread aisle of the supermarket for "sassing her." I can't even talk about it. I just start cracking up. At the time, though, I froze up like I always do because people never talk to me like that. Generally speaking, they speak to me with respect. Then again, she is a colossal bitch. Case in point: a group of us went camping for the latter part of break in Acadia National Park (which was unbelievable sick and unbelievably cold, by the way). It was me, Caroline, Afroz, Mateo (the one I have a growing crush on), my friend I will call Orange Boy (he always wears the same orange jacket), and Schuy. That first night it was pouring down rain, but it finally let up enough for us to start a fire and make some smores. We all huddled around the flames; I was sitting next to Mateo, and we were pushing each other and hugging each other like our relationship always entails. Mateo is a very physical person. So anyway, as per usual with Schuy, the conversation turned to sex. She suggested we play Truth or Dare, which really means Truth About What You've Done or Haven't Done Sexually, Depending On Your Levels of Sluttitude. Charming game, really. After watching us from across the fire, where she wasn't the center of every boy's attention and was therefore turning thirteen jealous shades of purple, she turned to Mateo and said, "Truth or dare?" He looked at me with his goofy grin and said, "Truth." "Okay," she said, "do you want to hook up with Bridget?" MOTHER FUCKER. I thought briefly about reaching across the fire and choking her to death, but settled instead on turning bright red and laughing nervously. He laughed too - he didn't answer for the longest time - and then jokingly threw his arm around my shoulder and said, "Obviously!" Everyone was giving us these looks. I felt like dying. He made a quick exit to check the score of the Red Sox game on the radio in his car. "Let's open this to the circle," said Schuy, her weird competitive gleam in her eyes. I shook my head frantically, but she kept going. "If you had to hook up with anyone in our friend group, who would it be? Bridget?" The flames cast dark shadows on her face. I stuttered. I hemmed. I hawed. And because I'm bad at concealing the truth when the truth is but a foot away from me listening to the Red Sox, Orange Boy figured out my answer. Luckily, Orange Boy and I are good friends who have dirt on each other, so it's fine. Later that night she insisted on sleeping next to Mateo "for warmth," even though sleeping bags generally INSULATE, dumbass. Thankfully he refused to sleep next to her - he slept perpendicular to the row of us at my feet. The rest of the camping trip was a combination of her attempts at flirting with him (which didn't work; he's too clueless) and my attempts to repair my relationship with him and diffuse the tension Schuy created. I'm still not sure what's going to happen. Maybe nothing. Then again, my life is "Friends" with more sexual innuendo than your basic porno, so who knows. No. Scratch that. My life is the part of high school I intentionally missed out on when I chose to go to St. Mary's. Boo.
The saga continues. Inquiring minds want to know: will Schuy remain my mortal enemy forever? Will Mateo ever see me as more than a friend? Will Heartbreak Kid seek revenge by chopping me up into little pieces and leaving them in the mop bucket for the janitor to find? If you choose yes, go to page 124! If you choose no, go home - you're clearly thinking of someone else's life.