Care

A big group of ~20 of us went away for the long weekend to a lake cabin in New Hampshire. As these things usually go, I drove a full car of people there and back. On the way up, I had zero excitement. Instead of talking to my whole car of passengers, I wanted to blast indie rock and cry loud sobbing cries from my gut about College Ed.

Adding insult to injury, two of my three passengers were friends whom I had actively tried to avoid for the last couple of weeks because they've recently started to seriously grate on my nerves. But the trip organizer didn't know that. He likely thought he was doing me a favor by putting my friends in my car as opposed to the alternative of random fringe acquaintances.

I drank very little the whole weekend and mostly sat in the background listening to others chatter and banter and play drinking games. One guy, Mish (50% of the car crew who has been annoying me), commented at some point about how quiet and pensive I seemed, compared to my "normal" self.

I wanted to slap him and scream, "Just who do you think you are?? How dare you claim to know my 'normal' self. You've only known me for a year - there are so many sides of me you can't even begin to know."

I made it a point to be out on the water as much as possible. Sailboats are fast and quiet, canoe paddles rhythmically melodic, and even the whirring of a motorboat engine drowns out all other noise and ironically creates its own sense of serenity because I didn't have to be in anyone else's world but my own. All of them were perfect balances of peace amidst distractions, and my mood gradually improved through the weekend, and I thought about College Ed less and less.

On Saturday though, I did drink a lot. Per tradition for four years now (though this is my first year on the trip), on the Saturday of each cabin trip, everyone plays a silly drinking game involving beers in cans. When someone finishes his/her beer, the empty can gets duct taped to his/her accumulated "Magician's Staff," essentially all of the empty cans of beers that person has gone through up until that point. Plenty of smack talk ensues, and each person carries with them their "staff" as a constant public record of the size of their dick.

Only silly boys can come up with silly games like this.

Nevertheless, I duct taped my empty beer cans together and amassed an empire - more than anyone had ever seen for a girl, and more than most of the boys had on their "staffs" by the end of the night. And I have to say, regardless of how blue I may have felt going into this, that many beers just cannot keep me down. Silly drinking games exist for a reason: they're silly and completely entertaining, especially when drunk.

Until cleanup time on Monday.

Our 15 or so staffs of ~20 duct taped beer cans each all sat in a heap outside, and we had to trash them all.

"Wait, why wouldn't we recycle these?" I asked.

"We can't," someone said, "They have duct tape all over them."

"But we can take all the duct tape off!" I protested.

"Ummm, are you crazy Seine? Do you know how many cans there are, and how long that would take?"

"I don't care!" I pleaded. "There are 20 of us here. We put the staffs together, we can take them apart to recycle."

But no one else cared. Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. I wanted to cry all over again, and thoughts of College Ed came flooding back. And then thoughts of Broadway. Broadway would have never played this game. And if he were with a group of people who did, he would make them take all the duct tape off to recycle the cans.

I realized then and there that I could never date any of the boys in this group, no matter how tempted I might have been at times (e.g. Special Friend) and no matter how many of them might be interested in me (I think 3 currently, but I'm also the only single girl in the group right now).

I want a boy with enough care and kindness to protest trashing duct taped cans. I want a boy who feels enough responsibility to not want to play this game anymore unless there were a better solution. I'll even take the boy who stands up out of the crowd to support me when I voice an opposition to want to recycle.

None of these boys are any of that. Ultimately, it's not about the cans or duct tape or even recycling, but it's about how much care they actually feel toward the world around them. To these boys, at least now, the world is still mostly just fun and games.

And I'm done with considering that. But at the very least, now I know what I want.

one step forward, two steps back

Developments along several fronts:

1) Special Friend and I defined our relationship. We defined it as "friends with benefits." However, since defining it, there haven't been any benefits. In fact, the momentum for benefits is gone. It's as if our defining our relationship actually killed it. I want benefits because I always want benefits. But I think about benefits with Special Friend, and the mood just isn't even there. I imagine that he probably feel the same way since I haven't heard from him at all since our little DTR talk.

2) I told HB that he doesn't engage me. He said that he agreed. He claims it's because he is exhausted working 12+ hour days with no weekends. I told him I was afraid it was just his personality. I stopped short at saying that I didn't think he was intelligent enough to engage me intellectually. I'm pretty much an elitist bitch.

3) Met a quality boy last weekend. At a bar. Well, actual quality is yet to be determined. We had some scheduling difficulties this week, so we're getting dinner next Wednesday. He is tall, blonde, gorgeous, and definitely held up his end of the conversation. I kept pinching myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Who meets quality people at a bar? He also turned out to have a collaboration project with one of my lab mates. Small world.

4) A really good girlfriend of mine revealed today that she was raped at 19. She was in a big group of women, including me, when she blurted it out. She didn't elaborate on the circumstances under which this happened, and I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet... but she did seem relieved to have the secret lifted off her shoulders after so many years (she's currently 27). I wonder though, if she will come to regret the openness of the revelation given that most of the women there were merely acquaintances.

As for me, I'm still digesting this piece of information, but my gut reaction was "wow, that explains so much about her chronic destructive behavior around men." I, as her best friend in the room, remained stoic and unemotional, while the other women around me cried.

Damage

For the first time, I packed a bag to stay over at Special Friend’s. This time, staying over wasn’t something we stumbled on after 5 beers each. Staying over wasn’t just me not going home at the end of a night of partying. We had plans to go snowboarding the next morning, and he texted me to say “You could bring your stuff over and stay if you want.”

Gushing, I thought about what to text back. Obviously, I’d love to stay over. But my protective instinct started to text “Yeah, okay sure. That’d be convenient for the morning.”

Then I erased it because I don’t want to play games anymore. I’m gushing, and he deserves to know how genuinely happy I am that he asked. So I replied “I like it :)”

For the first time, we had sex while both of us were sober. He loves to focus on me, and I love to focus on him. He fumbled a little, only because we don’t yet know each others’ bodies, but he seemed to want to right the situations himself. So I just relaxed, smiled, and let him figure it out. He was gentle but assertive, and our bodies swayed to a slow love-making rhythm.

Right afterwards, with him still on top of me and my legs wrapped up around him, he swooped his arms under my back and hugged me tightly.

“Mmm, that was amazing,” I said.

Silence.

This from a man who just three nights before couldn’t stop saying “oh my god, you are so good.” Does he clam up with sobriety? Is sex not as enjoyable when he’s sober? Was I not good? I went out on a limb to express my pleasure and got silence in return. I felt the hint of the damage.

After a bit of cuddling, he flipped on his stomach so I could give him a back massage.

“I like how hard you press with your hands on my back,” he told me.

“Let me know if it’s too hard.”

“Like when you’re pressing so hard that you pull out some hair from my back?”

I was horrified, immediately took my hands off his back, and asked him if I’d actually done that. Was “I like how hard you press” a passive aggressive way of telling me I was using too much pressure?

“No,” he said, “You weren’t pressing too hard until right before I said that. The pressure feels really good.”

“Oh okay.” But the biting damage had already been done.

lapses of judgement

I drunk dialed HB last night after getting home from an evening at the local microbrew with some friends. He didn't pick up. So I texted Special Friend. He didn't respond.

Feeling lonely and shitty, I drank some water and went to bed. My thinking was that once I'm asleep, time will pass much more quickly, and I won't feel like a freak standing guard by my phone waiting for someone to respond all while agonizing whether or not I acted too impulsively by dialing and texting. And am I completely desperate that I reached out to two different men?

I closed my eyes to fall asleep, secretly hoping that a return call would wake me up. Next thing I knew, it was morning. There were no new texts nor missed calls. Ugh, it was 10am on a Saturday morning and I already feel like an idiot.

And I still had a whole afternoon of seeing Broadway to look forward to.

where do I start?

In which I somehow manage to cheat on HB again, even though we aren't even together.

When I get drunk, I call HB. You might call it drunk dialing, but I'm still in denial. For the second time ever in my drinking life, I blacked out last weekend. I was in LA (Santa Monica to be exact), rendezvous-ing with an eclectic group of people for a weekend of beach ultimate. We got so excited to be in the southern California sun that we went to happy hour at 4pm Friday afternoon and didn't stop until who knows when.

I woke up in a bathtub, fully-clothed, around 10pm when the girl sharing my room came back to use our bathroom and almost called an ambulance when she discovered me.

Passed-out. In a bathtub.

I wasn't actually unconscious--I really had just been sleeping--but she didn't know that. And I didn't know how or why or when I got into the bathtub.

The next morning, I discovered that I had several texts from an unknown number asking if I was still awake (hmm... I have some vague memories of giving out my number to a beautiful black man at the bar). I also had a voicemail from HB, timestamped 9pm the night before, telling me that he hoped I was able to get some water and that I'd be able to play frisbee the next day.

How'd he know I was drunk and needed water?

My outgoing call history showed a 30-minute conversation with HB around 8pm the night before. Huh. Having no recollection of this at all, I sat down in the sand and called HB to ask for details. Naturally.

He said during the course of this 30-minute conversation, I wouldn't stop telling him how much I loved him. I also kept repeating how drunk I was, but not nearly as many times as "I love you so much."

Oh god.

The extreme happiness in HB's voice betrayed his interpretation: my drunken self revealed my true feelings for him which I obviously hide and escape from when I am sober, logical, and collected.

Oh god.

The truth is that I get overly affectionate when I drink and have a tendency to overstate my emotions. It doesn't help that I often do it with extra flourish and oomph just to make extra certain that my audience is fully aware of how serious I am (and how much they "mean to me"). But in the end, it's all alcohol talking. I don't admit it much because who likes being told the morning after that they're not actually loved as much as the sun and the moon and the stars? I just giggle, chalk it up to my cheesy drunken state, and let it go. The boyfriends always love the ego boost.

Except HB is not my boyfriend. Oh god.

Let's start back at December 29.

I was home at my parents' house in South Carolina for the holidays with two more days to go before returning to Boston to celebrate NYE. HB called me out of the blue to declare that he wants to come to Boston for New Year's Eve, especially because he knows I'll be celebrating with Special Friend and company at a fancy cocktail-dress party.

"No, that's not a good idea," I said. "It will make things very awkward with Special Friend. Besides, you're only doing this because you're jealous of him."

"I just don't like seeing other people take New Year's kisses that are rightfully mine."

"What? That's so immature. Besides, there's nothing special going on between me and Special Friend."

I lied. Let's rewind back two more weeks to mid December. I was still in Boston, rushing like mad to get all my lab work done before leaving town for 1.5 weeks to see mom & dad. Things with Special Friend were going down omg-we-might-actually-start-seeing-each-other-dating-relationship-scary paths, and we'd picked out a night for a proper dinner date. It was the night before I was to leave Boston though, and we ultimately had to cancel because neither one of us actually had time. He smilingly asked for a raincheck in January, and yes, he was very much looking forward to this fancy New Year's Eve party. He wrapped his arms around me and leaned in for a kiss. I melted.

Fast forward again to December 29th. HB angrily asked, "So you don't want me to come because you're afraid I'll cramp your style with Special Friend? I'm offering to buy a last minute plane ticket to come see you, and you're turning me down for a playboy whom you don't care about?"

"No, you wouldn't be cramping my style. You're twisting my words." But I had no further arguments because that's exactly what I was trying to say without explicitly saying it.

I felt evil and manipulative and like a cheater again, even though HB and I weren't even together anymore. I managed to calm him down by convincing him that Special Friend really wasn't someone special. HB asked me to clarify the nature of my and SF's relationship. I told him that we make out sometimes, that I've slept over a few times, but that's it.

Now-calm HB very understandingly tells me that he understands where I'm coming from, why I am afraid of commitment, and that it's fine to go explore with other guys around me. That's all okay with him. And for New Year's Eve, he just wants to come to see me. And yes, to fuck me, but that's secondary to seeing me and just spending time together again and seeing if we still have that spark because it's been a while since we talked. He had no expectations for after NYE though he would want to talk about it while he's in Boston and just see where things go.

I couldn't say no to such an understanding boy who wanted to see (fuck) me so much, so HB bought his Chicago-to-Boston plane ticket

I broke the news to SF over text (I know, I'm even more evil than you ever imagined).

SF knew that I would be back in Boston on Dec 30th. Around 11:30pm on the 30th, he texted me. "I'm so stoked to finally see you again. Want me to pick up some burritos and come over to chill?" Last couple of times we got drunk together before the holidays, we bought 7-11 frozen burritos on the way home and then giggled over nothing while they cooked in the microwave.

This time, I'd just gotten home from picking up HB at the airport. I felt like I just ran over someone's dog.

"Aww," I replied after some time, "that's so sweet. But I just got home from the airport. Picked up a visiting friend whose flight was seriously delayed. Am exhausted, think we're headed for bed."

"Sure, no worries. See you tomorrow night?"

"Definitely." And then I broke the news. Kinda. "Stoked to see you too, but things are a bit complicated."

"Oh? I'm home all day tomorrow. Wanna come over, and you can elaborate?"

He's not making this easy. He doesn't see any of this coming. All he wants to do is to see me and hang out with me.

"Um, well, actually, so my friend who is visiting is a male friend."

"A male friend? Or a male friend? Either way is fine with me - I just want to make sure I don't misunderstand your text."

"A male friend."

"Okay, that's cool. Haha, I have male friends too. Are you still partying tomorrow night?"

How could he still manage to crack a joke after this? What is actually going on in his head?

"Yeah, we'll both be at the party."

"Awesome. Looking forward to it."

I wanted to crawl into a hole.

The NYE party had so many elephants in the room. A very drunken Special Friend nodded in HB's direction indicating recognition (they met briefly when HB visited me from Beijing last summer). The two of them shared a cigarette out on the balcony while I pretended not to fret inside. Outwardly, everyone appeared okay, cordial, and cool. Inside, not a single one of us was okay.

From midnight onward, Special Friend spent his entire time dancing and making out with the only other Asian girl at the party. He just met her that night. He told me in December that he's never kissed an Asian girl before me.

HB caught me spying on Special Friend and the Slut and asked if I was bothered.

"Of course I'm bothered," I shot back.

This sent HB huffing and puffing out to the balcony, where he huffed and puffed two more cigarette even though he told me he'd mostly quit and would only have one or two a week in social situations. I sat on the couch staring out onto the dance floor of seemingly happy drunk people wondering what kind of a fucked up situation I got myself into.

Aside from the party awkwardness, HB and I actually had a great weekend together. So much so that I began to question myself again on my resolve to not date him. The problem isn't when we are together. We always have a great time together. It's when we go back to long-distance that everything fades for me.

We talked about us. HB, as usual, was clear on what he wanted: me. I, as usual, was wishy washy about commitment. This time, I spelled out our pattern and pointed out that I don't want to commit only to change my mind about wanting to be with him a week after he leaves.

HB finally proposed that we should delay the commitment decision for three weeks. That way, I can think about everything without him next to me feeding me this high of spending time together. The three weeks apart would ensure that I am making an informed decision untainted by his presence beside me all weekend. Yeah, okay, that sounds good.

But not before a final question from him. "Are you going to make out with Special Friend during these next three weeks?"

"No," I said, "it wouldn't really feel right." I meant it. It wouldn't feel right.

HB left the Monday following New Year's. That following weekend, Special Friend and I went clubbing together with our huge group of mutual friends. Completely hammered at the end of the night, SF asked me to go home with him. Shocked and drunk, I managed to stammer something about "I can't believe you still want me to go home with you after New Year's Eve." SF's exact reply is now hazy, but I think he said that he didn't care as long as HB and I aren't actually together. The one thing I do remember him clearly saying is "we can't ignore the fact that when we're out partying together, neither one of us flirts with anyone else besides each other."

So I gave in to my present-hedonist self and went home with Special Friend. I woke up the next morning in his bed with a throbbing hangover, the dread of having to call HB, and the resignation that I am a giant heart-breaking mess.

HB swore on the phone that he was finally completely done with me. I'd broken his heart. I'd shown no interest in trying even though he's been trying ever since we met a year ago in Beijing. He had no idea why he'd wasted so much energy and love on me. I'm a chronic cheater, and he questions if he'll ever trust in me again.

I sighed because I had nothing to say. I agreed wholeheartedly with him. I'm in a bad place right now, and it was time to finally admit it and own up to my actions. And with that, I thought I had closed the HB chapter of my life...

...Until HB changed his mind and decided to give me a 2-week test. If I could go two weeks without hooking up with Special Friend or anyone else, then he would reconsider. If not, then he's gone from my life.

I sighed, out of exhaustion. "Okay, whatever you want to do. I'm exhausted."

That takes us up to my boarding a 7am flight to LA 4 days later... 13 hours before I blacked out and woke up in a bathtub.

To be continued (and I never did write about the Alum or the Tall One)...

The men/boys

I might have a job (if I ever graduate). They told me yesterday that they'd like to give me an offer, but with end of the year administrative craziness, the company board won't be able to approve a job offer until January. After the approval, HR will draw up an official offer for me.

Token Male Friend asked me if I felt more focused after this turning point. We've both been suffering from general lack of motivation and often seek each other out for mid-afternoon coffee breaks that turn into dinner into ice cream into any other excuse we can conjure up to avoid doing work. I told him that focus remains to be seen, but yes, perhaps I will be more motivated now to write my thesis.

"You're also addicted to boys," he said. Where'd that come from? I thought we were talking about jobs and finishing grad school?

But it's true. I am addicted to boys.

Special Friend and I had a drunken heart-to-heart after that night at the Cantab. After abruptly leaving our friends, we went back to my place. In between passionate make-out sessions in bed, we laid out a lot of our inner issues. The problem is that Special Friend can't bear his heart unless he is drunk, which usually means that I am also drunk, which then means that I don't remember much of the conversation the following morning.

The things I do remember:

1. He suffers greatly from general anxiety. He presents a suave exterior, but fights daily internal battles fretting, worrying, overanalyzing, and reading too much into things.
2. One of his greatest anxieties is sexual performance. Despite our multiple nights of sleepovers, we've only had sex once, about a week before this Cantab night. He had a really hard time (or rather a soft time). He apologized profusely, repeatedly reassuring me that it's not because I don't turn him on. I remember that he followed it all up quietly with, "This never happens with girls I don't care about."
3. He's intimidated by my self-assured nature, but that's one of the main things that he finds attractive about me. Other qualities include: pretty, smart, athletic, but mostly confident and self-assured.
4. He feels his friends are being unfair when they call him a "heartbreaker," but I don't remember why.
5. He asked me what kind of men I like, and I said "manly man."

In the morning, hoping to continue the soul-bearing while sober, the first thing I said was "So you WERE uncomfortable all those times we hooked up." He didn't take the bait and instead turned the tables.

"I feel like you've gotten me all figured out, but I hardly know anything about you."

"What would you like to know?" I asked.

"What's something you like about yourself?"

After some thought, I came up with, "I can talk to anybody. I don't mind idle chit chat at parties and can usually engage most people in some form of fun conversation."

"What's something you wish you could change about yourself?"

Some more thought, "I wish I could be more empathetic. I often think people should just 'suck it up', and I wish I could see beyond that and be less judgmental."

"How do you feel about me being 25?"

"It bothered me at first, but honestly, I don't think about it anymore. How do you feel about me being 28?"

"I always think older women are sexier, and 28 is the sexiest age."

I laughed. "You're never serious when you're sober."

"I am being serious! I'm tired of breaking young girls' hearts."

He smiled. I rolled my eyes.

"Do you want to go to Wendy's?"

I smiled, leaned over, and gave him a kiss.

Other men to come: the Tall One, the Alum.

Friday night

We planned a lunch date, albeit a late 2pm lunch date. Things came up work-wise for him though, so he asked to reschedule to a 5pm lunch date. I had plans already for the early evening, so we further postponed to a 9pm lunch date at our favorite neighborhood Wendy's.

He texted me around 8pm to say he'd gone drinking with his buddies, and would I like to join him for beers instead of Wendy's.

Annoyed, I said no, and settled in with my roommates for a movie night at home.

30 minutes into the movie, an unknown number called me. It was a friend's boyfriend. He was out and had met up with Special Friend and his crew. "We're headed to the Cantab, and Special Friend would really like for you to come," the boyfriend said.

He couldn't call me himself after flaking out on me twice already today? What kind of passive aggressive behavior is this?

"His phone died, so he's really asking me to beg you to come."

Ah, so he's drunk, and coming out of his protective aloof protective shell and enlisting the help of a mutual friend to convince me to come out.

I gave in like the silly girl that I am, bundled up, and walked the 5 blocks to Cantab. They were all waiting in line. The downstairs show got too popular, the bar filled to capacity, and the bouncers weren't letting anyone else in. I walked outside onto the sidewalk to take a call, and SF walked out after me. Interesting ...

He then motioned for me to follow him down the street. Even more interesting ... Are we leaving everyone else?

He led me around the block to the back of the club, where a couple of people were smoking cigarettes out a back door. Smiling and making idle chit chat as we walked by them, he led me swaggering through the back door that the smokers were holding open with their feet. We walked right into the downstairs show. Didn't fight through bouncers and didn't even pay the cover.

He asked me if I wanted a drink. I know money's tight for him, so I never let him pay for anything (not that he's ever truly offered), but after everything he put me through that day, he better at least buy me a beer. So yes, I do want a drink, thank you very much.

The rest of our group joined us shortly thereafter (the bouncer loosened up, we guessed). Everyone was at least a few drinks in by then (SF & friends pre-gamed, and I had a few beers at home during the movie), so it didn't take long before everything became a giddy blur.

Someone spotted a group of guys right in front of us and wondered if they were gay. I insisted that they were not, only to have my judgment repeatedly questioned by everyone else.

"Fine," I said, "I'll just go and ask them if they're gay." One guy's eyes popped open, questioning my sincerity, daring me to actually do it, calling me on out on my bravado.

Whatever. I'm tipsy and have nothing to lose. I left my safe friend circle and walked up to the tallest and cutest one of the questionably-gay group.

"Hey, I have a question for you."

"Oh really?" he asked, putting his arms around me and pulling me in really close to his body. Seriously? You don't even know me ... maybe you are gay or drunk or both.

"You are sooo incredibly pretty," he continued in an European accent while staring down at me with his gorgeous blue eyes. Oh my, you are not gay, and so very beautiful. I could feel Special Friend's laser-like gaze on the back of my neck. See if I care. He put me through this same thing 2 weeks ago.

I pulled away from Blue Eyes and reported back to my group, "No, I'm pretty sure that they are not gay. And that one there is foreign."

Special Friend very adamantly piped up, "Of course they are gay. Just look at them. Especially that tall one. He is definitely gay." Ah, jealous much?

Blue Eyes and I continued flirting with each other as the band got louder. He really was very drunk, super touchy-feely, always coming by to drape an arm around my shoulder whenever I was within reach. I glanced at Special Friend a few times. Was he seeing this? Yes, yes he was seeing this and pretending to be engrossed in conversation. Who has a conversation when it's 200 decibels at a band show? No, he wasn't really having a conversation. It's just a ruse to cover up his secretive side-glances in my direction, and Blue Eyes' arm around my shoulder.

We eventually decided to leave the bar, and our group of 8 all walked to the Korean's apartment. After some blurry conversation, I announced in a drunken tired stupor that it was time for me to go home. I couldn't keep my eyes open.

So I gathered up my coat, hat, gloves, bag and said my goodbyes. That's when I noticed that Special Friend had also put on his coat. There was no other leaving momentum from anyone else in the group - just me and my irrational need to go home, and Special Friend and his decision to come with me...

Thanksgiving

I posted a Craigslist ad on Monday asking for a fancy dinner date on Thanksgiving. For the most part, the pretty ones wrote boring emails, and the funny ones weren't pretty. By midday Wednesday, I had it narrowed down to three guys ... but then I had a total change of heart for the cheesy.

A couple had invited me for Thanksgiving at their place, but I told them I was considering a CL date, which I think hurt them a little bit. On Wednesday, I suddenly got all emotional about the silly holiday and realized that I didn't want to waste it on a random, potentially excruciating, date. I'd rather spend it close to friends, and my couple friend were happy and told me they were really glad with my decision :)

As for the CL men, I promptly asked each of them if we could reschedule for drinks sometime over this coming weekend. All three agreed, so this might be a fun-filled weekend after all, or at the very least, a story-filled weekend.

In other news, Special Friend made me pretty mad yesterday. A big group of us partied at his house last night, but he flirted with this other girl the whole time. I realize that there's nothing concrete between us and that he has every right to flirt with other people (I mean, hell, I'm going on dates myself), but doing it in my presence is a pretty dickish move.

I kept my own flirting under control, even with another guy at the party who was obviously trying to flirt with me. I'd always move away or pull someone else into the conversation. Special Friend needs to have the same level of respect for me and not talk with another girl for two hours off in a corner by themselves.

At one point, he and his roommate decided to go to 7-11 for some snack refills. He loudly asked the whole room, while glancing at me, "Does anyone want to come with us to 7-11?"

I don't play this game. If he wants me to go with him to 7-11, he needs to ask me directly. I'm not going to bite on his passive aggressive question, posed to the whole room, hoping that I would somehow rise to the challenge.

Of course, the girl whom he'd been flirting with pipes up and says that she wants to go to 7-11. That made me want to go even less. I don't play his passive aggressive question-asking game, and I definitely don't play the fighting-for-territory game. If she wants to throw herself at him, be my guest. I'm not tagging along to fight her for my share of his attention.

I secretly smirked at the disappointed and slightly awkward look on his face when she volunteered to go. I grabbed another beer and sat back down on the couch, smug.

He asked the room again, "Does anyone else want to come?" I went on drinking and talking and ignored his question.

Eventually he came over to me and asked, "Hey, do you want to come to 7-11?" I played hard to get and claimed that it was cold outside, and I couldn't find my jacket. His SISTER, overhearing me say this, piped up, "Oh, you can borrow my jacket!"

Special Friend saw the bone that his sister threw him, snatched the jacket, threw it on me and out the door we went. It was indeed cold, so he grabbed my hand with his and put both our hands in his jacket pocket as we walked. This would normally be completely adorable, but there, 5 steps in front of us, was the girl he'd been flirting with the whole night.

I guess I won in the end - he picked me over this random girl - and I won without ever fighting. Hell, his SISTER picked me over this other girl. But the win didn't feel glorious. I'm still mad that he would overtly flirt with other women in my presence. Either he's completely oblivious to my feelings, or he's trying to play games and get me jealous.

Both are not cool, and I'm not playing.