I didn’t quite understand exactly how this would all go down. I was pretty certain that I was into this guy, but at the same time I felt like maybe I was just lonely. Loneliness can mess with a person, especially the longer loneliness sticks around. I have friends, yes, but there comes a point in someones life when he or she starts believing in the lie, the lie that if no one shows their interest in you, you must be uninteresting.
That may or not have been the case with me.
Boston was cute. But not in the intimidating kind of way. There are guys who are adorable, then there’s cute, then there’s hey you a good looking motha fucka, and then there’s OH SHIT YOU’RE SO HOT GO AWAY BEFORE I KILL MYSELF. Boston was cute. And his personality was reason enough to be into him.
Well, at least it was at first.
The first time I met Boston was over dinner. I wasn’t into calling it a date, even though my best friend told me that it was. I would have liked to believe it of course, because after all, it had been four years since my last date, a date that took place the day before a sudden breakup. It’s funny to think how optimistic I am with my friends’ problems but when it comes to my own life, no one is more pessimistic.
Dinner went splendidly. Everything was cool, conversation flowed nicely, and even after my two drinks, appetizer and entree, Boston still payed for dinner. I wanted separate checks, especially since Boston only had one plate of food that he gave me half of, but he insisted and said, “don’t worry, I got this.”
I thought it was very nice gesture of course and was looking forward to doing dinner again to gossip about our lives.
As the days progressed, Boston and I became bad bitch besties. It was hard to find any differences between us because we are so much alike. We are both insane which is always a good trait to have in a friend, we are ridiculously loud and overdramatic, and natural attention whores. We would constantly try to out sass one another and find more and more ways to create interesting conversation. There then came a point when I said to myself, “I think I like Boston.”
It was strange to say because I did not expect to actually like him. The jury was still out as I had yet to reach a full decision. Was I just lonely? Was I looking for something just for the sake of it? I decided to just be bold and just tell him that I liked him. I guess I thought that if I forced it out to him, I would force myself into a decision.
So I did it, I told him over coffee. And that’s when I realized how awful he was.
As we walked to our cars in the coffee shop parking lot, he yelled, “Don’t go home and kill yourself!”
I’M SORRY WHAT. Sure, he said he wasn’t into me like that, which is totally fine, but damn. He was actin’ a little too full of himself.
I laughed and said, “Okay!” and got in my car. For some reason, his pompousness didn’t really catch my attention.
I felt really stupid though. I just told a guy I liked him and he threw numerous mixed responses at me. I don’t remember exactly what he said verbatim, but here’s the gist of it:
- I like you too but you’re wayyy too much of a homemaker, I’m a homewrecker (meaning he’s kind of a whore and I’m not)
- I’m not looking to date anyone
- this is awkward
- that’s very flattering
- “why do I always end up in these weird situations?”
That last one I remember a lot clearer. I was the reason for a weird situation. Fucking peachy.
A few days went by and I was pretty much over it. I just wanted to go back to being bad bitch besties. We decided to have dinner one night about a week after my confession.
Prior to meeting up, he texted, “Just make sure you don’t rape me, that’s my only stipulation.”
And the pompousness continued…
This was the most awkward fucking dinner ever.
I knew it was a mistake to bring Boston to my work but I was hungry and was craving salmon. Boston is that guy Tay Tay is talking about in that one song. He’s trouble. And I knew it for quite some time. SHAME ON ME NOW.
Usually when you first meet someone, you casually chat and get to know the person on a very superficial level, ask very basic questions, and maybe tell a joke or two. Right? Well not Boston. Boston asked my coworker Liz about her marriage, her age and why she’s forty three with a four-year-old. A little too much.
I felt myself turning red with embarrassment as Boston continued to talk to my coworkers as if they were his best friends. GIRL, YOU JUST MET THEM, CALM DOWN.
“I’m that person who meets my friends’ friends and then steals them.” he said proudly.
Good luck with that, because I’m pretty sure you just annoyed the fuck out of this whole restaurant.
It was in that moment when I discovered the biggest difference between Boston and me. We are both overdramatic attention whores, yes. But Boston was different, he was disrespectful. He thought he owned the place, and sometimes, when you’re that full of yourself, you don’t even realize just how annoying you really are.
Sometimes, people confuse being BOLD with being an ASSHOLE and it’s important to find that line. Don’t be rude, crass, and careless. Be outspoken, honest, and true to yourself.
The moral of the story here is, don’t be a pompous bitch because I will make fun of you on my blog.