by Fallen Leaves on January 26, 2015
I don't even know where the past week has gone. Last entry (Tuesday) I got embarrassingly drunk. I talked to the drummer boy for hours on the couch in my friend's apartment after the bar closed down. I gave up on subtlety and leaned into him for some, any, physical contact. It's been too long. He drove me home at five am. Again, I expected him to kiss me or something. Again, he didn't. As it turns out, he went home and messaged Anna to ask for her number ("I couldn't ask in front of Fallen, I think she's into me").
I felt pretty humiliated the next day but my friends reminded me that I did nothing wrong whatsoever, and that everyone assumed he was into me too, and that it was a shady move to lead me on and then go for Anna. I shrugged. Minor crushes don't leave wounds.
Wednesday, I was a hungover piece of garbage all day.
Thursday, I was driving to volleyball and I ran into the woman in front of me. My car needs to be fixed and I now owe my parents a grand for the repairs.
Friday, I went to class and did homework. Drummer boy was texting me, so I politely called him out on his confusing intentions with me and his pursuit of Anna. "I was just so confused by you," he said, "and I still don't understand whether or not you're into me, or if it is just your personality." I went to see some band play with some of my boys. Drummer boy and his cute roommate showed up at 1:30, hammered. He throws his arm around me and apologizes profusely. I end up taking their car keys and driving their drunk asses home. "You actually rock. You actually really rock," he told me.
Saturday night, drummer boy's band was playing at the bar down the street. A bunch of my friends and I went. He was polite enough to put me on the guest list so I could save myself the ten dollars. I showed up to the show with the boys, already very drunk. One of them just broke up with his girlfriend, and although I wanted a medium night (I swear, I'm still hungover from Tuesday), I decided to be a good bro and join him in his alcoholic endeavours. The music was great. The people were great.
Weeks ago, I met Beau's best friend, an elusive fellow named Mark who dons cute glasses and stubbly facial hair. We hit it off. When he went to the bathroom, Beau pointed at me and firmly said, "NO." "But Beau, he - " "Fallen, NO." "But why?!" "I already know how this one ends. I'm not cleaning up this mess." When Mark came back he asked me to dance but I took Beau's advice and refused the offer.
Last week, the three of us were at a show together and Beau was giving me a hard time as usual, so I smirked and cocked an eyebrow. I turned to face Mark. "Mark, did you know that Beau forbids anything from happening between us?" Smoothly: "I believe I make the decisions in this matter." Hello, arrogance, my old friend. "Ah, well, I just thought you should know." Beau shakes his head. I've seen Mark around a few times since then - we got high and watched TV with some friends, we saw our friends play a show in a sketchy-ass venue in the art district.
"Dude, I think Mark's actually into you. He won't shut up. He keeps asking me if I'm banging you." Beau's eloquence, my uncontrollable laughter. "I didn't mean to catch his interest, but I guess by saying I was off-limits I did a pretty good job of it. And fuck no, me and you aren't banging." Beau: "I told him I would literally rather be gang banged by the Brady Bunch than ever have sex with you." We bro-fist and I say, "Awe, thanks, man."
Last night, we sat by the pizza place on the long wooden benches. My memory is hazy, but he and I talked for quite a while about heavens-knows-what. "So why did Beau forbid this?" he asked insistently. "You two have got to be fucking. Or he's secretly in love with you." The idea is so bizarre that the only real explanation I could give was an incredulous laugh of denial.
We left together, with my half-block walk on the left hand side and his car on the right. "Need a ride?" "No, I live half a block away." "Oh, okay. Goodnight." By the time I'm back in my dormitory, he's already texted me: "You missed half a block of sensual Bon Iver. Your loss." We go back and forth. He's still perplexed by my apparently ambiguous behaviour. "You're a confusing girl," he says. Is it possible to feel sexual tension through text message?
2:30, Beau asks if he and our other friend can crash in my dorm. I say yes. 3:00, they call again and ask if they can have my beer to go to a party. I say yes. 5:00, Beau calls and asks if he can crash at my dorm after all. I say yes, and he appears with a bag of McDonald's as a peace offering. We talk for an hour. He passes out on my concrete floor. I wake up at 8 to go play volleyball, ignore how the room keeps spinning, step around Beau, and leave.
Be a hungover piece of garbage almost all day.
Go to an amazing show with some of the boys again. This night it was bluegrass musicians covering blink-182's Enema of the State. You haven't heard "The Party Song" until you've heard it with a mandolin and pleasant yodels.
I realize this entry was shitty and I am too tired to care.
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