Wednesday : Tag and I traded text messages (which, btw, are the downfall of modern dating. That might be the topic of my next post). He wanted me to stop by club X…again. I wasn’t doing anything but wanting to seem not-so-damn-available, told him I was busy but could meet up tomorrow.
Thursday : another text, “you and your girls should come to club x tonight, I’m having a birthday party.” Frantic phone call to S telling her she’s going to club X with me. The one picture I have of Tag that I didn’t post is him standing on the bar pouring tequila down a girl’s throat at the bar. S tells me to pull up the picture and look closer. Why? We’re standing at the bar. A friend of S’s is the girl getting tequila down her throat, we’re standing next to her. So apparently I’ve seen Tag before but because of evil tequila, I have no memory of it.
: Get to Club X. Tag walks right by us. I’m thinking he doesn’t even remember what I look like. He’s hot. He’s wearing this little black knit cap with a bill, a Kelly green tight t-shirt, jeans hanging off his tiny ass with a black studded belt. He walks past us again to the other end of the bar and I get a text: “when are you showing up? I’m getting lonely.” I show the text to S and K. I get another text, “I see you, don’t act like I can’t.” I told him I didn’t know if he’d recognize me. He said he loved the way I had hit on him. He was gone to greet friends every 15 minutes but kept coming back to talk. He was sweet. He was funny. He was a good dancer. I was drunk. They put the pole back up (they had taken it down for a band earlier) and I figured it was DEFINITELY time to go.
Friday : I wake up still drunk. I have a missed call from Tag at and a text at 4am which reads, “Hey u need to wake up right now and cum to 30th b/w park and lex.” Ha! How is it the guy thinks I’ll answer a booty call when we’ve never even kissed?
: report to bar exam study class. Pages spinning in my vision. I felt like I was going to throw up the whole time. Told a friend I had been at club X, she said she’d gone to high school with the owners and their brothers (i.e. Tag). I said it was Tag’s birthday party. She said, “oh yeah, I forgot! He just turned 19” YES YOU READ THAT RIGHT. Nineteen. For fuck’s sake!
: meet S and K for lunch. Am reminded of lots of things I can’t remember due to drunkenness. Forced to endure a solid 2 hrs of jokes about how he probably just wanted me to come over b/c he was scared of the dark and needed a bedtime story. About how I should have met him earlier, I could have gone to his prom. More jokes about incubators, living with mommy and daddy, all in the cradle robbing theme.
So whaddya think? If I hear from him do I respond? Is nineteen do-able? Literally...
i could rant on about how it's okay for older men to date younger women (i dated a guy who was 27 when i was 18, and nobody flinched), but this isn't time or the place. i've kept y'all long enough.
p.s. i heard from him one more time (late night text). i didn't answer. i think that's the end of that!