I must say, I've definitely missed it.
Friday I had a date with a British boy from Northwestern. A date that he scheduled two weeks in advance, I might add. So Brit takes a cab to my house to pick me up and takes me to a super fancy restaurant. We have a delicious and waaaaaay too expensive dinner. A dinner that nearly equalled what I make at my part time job IN A MONTH. For a first date. Despite my awkwardness (and the pressure of having to be more funny /charming /intelligent since he was shelling out so much cash) I had a fantastic time. He was cultured and sweet and intelligent, and had an accent. He is also volunteering at a lemur conservation center this summer. In Madagascar. Yes, just like the movie.
Obviously I was beyond smitten.
On to Saturday.
A boy from my past was in town for one day. A boy that I've been friends with and have had a secret crush on for 5 years (by secret I mean everyone knew except him. Well, honestly, he probably knew). We went to lunch and I remembered why I enjoyed hanging out with him- and looking at him, and I left to go get ready for a Frat Formal (where I would be a "mock date"). After the formal I drunkenly stumbled to a bar to meet up with my friends. And, of course, text Past Boy to meet up with us. He shows up around 3 am to the late bar we were at. Maybe earlier. I had no sense of time at that point. Cliffnotes version: We end up kissing at the bar for the first time ever. And then watched the Sunrise on the beach. And then kissed some more. A lot more. Until he had to go to the airport to catch his early flight. So the ONE TIME he decided to make a move was 24 hours after I have a fabulous date with a guy I decided I would one day marry. In Madagascar. Or England. I hate my life sometimes.
Pop Quiz: Does the rich, charming Brit stand a chance?
If you answered "yes," you've clearly never read this blog.
If you answered "no," you're right and are probably thinking I'm an idiot. Because I am.
Upon telling BFF (from the previous blog)/all my other friends about this, they yelled at me. Before you get the urge to yell at me too, hear me out. Yea, the Brit was charming and nice and treated me to an extremely fancy evening, but do I really want to date someone that I feel that I constantly need to impress? Or would I like to be with someone that I can let into my messy room and not care (this was a HUGE deal for me btw)? And yes, while I'm realistic that nothing can happen with Past Boy (since I'm cursed which means he lives out of state), it made me realize nothing should happen with the Brit either. You can't just keep exaggerating certain parts of your personality and hiding others depending on who you're dating. Compatibility doesn't mean finding someone you can put on a fascade around but still have fun. This is the part that I get grossly Cliche: it's finding someone you can always be yourself around. Really.
I found someone Saturday that I actually let into my messy room. After I pulled my first all nighter and probably looked like a crack head. And I didn't care. Now I dunno if anything will happen between me and Past Boy in the future, but hey, I didn't think anything would EVER happen between us. But I do know that whoever I end up with, it'll be someone who I'll let in when my laundry's all around my floor and not someone I'm embarrassed to order French wine in front of because I can't pronounce it.
Enjoying my sandwiches and beer just as much as my truffle sauce and dessert wine.
Ally
