twenty-one a no-go.

This story actually starts on the 14th of September—

Col and I were up to our usual Monday-night antics. I was still being Miss Debbie Downer and Ms. Lee, the coolest cat ever, took me to Lucky Jack’s a local bar near my place. We played pool (which I won 2 to 1), drank Jameson, tonics and ate pizza and garlic knots. At some point during the night, we were outside killing ourselves with cancer sticks when Col sees an attractive and tall boy standing on the street all by his lonesome. Since she is the most perfect wingman on this earth, she immediately walks up to him, talks him up, gets me to sing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” (his choice actually), and proceeds to get his number in order to text him my digits with the words “she thinks you’re cute, call her” (total lie, I couldn’t even remember what he looked like). We spent the night texting back and forth with the decision that we would meet up to watch a scary movie the next evening (my choice, not his).

Here’s the catch—which you may have guessed from the subject of this post—he’s 21.

I told Col that he was far too young for me & that I didn’t really want to hang out with him, but she convinced me to give it a chance and go have a little bit of fun. So I did.

The night was RIDICULOUS. We went to see Halloween II by Rob Zombie, a pretty gruesome, not-my-kind-of-horror, and most definitely disturbing film. He didn’t speak much, and when he did it usually followed with me throwing out some comment that he would laugh about then grow silent once again. The movie part of the evening was fine, not amazing… but definitely not cringe worthy.

It wasn’t until we got on the subway when I realized just how young he is. The guy lives in a DORM and whispered, “Do you smoke weed?” on the train because apparently it’s a very taboo subject… to top it off, he wanted to show me his “photo book” entitled Wood which was back at his residence hall and we had to hurry back to see it because I had to be signed in before 11 PM otherwise I would not be let in.

We ended up hanging out in a bathroom with three, stoned-out-of-their-minds, teenagers (yes, teenagers) who kept asking me if I was a student at their school, too [Side note: We were in the bathroom because they were scared that the RA would smell the ganja even though they were blowing the smoke into a towel and spraying Febreeze pretty much on everything, including me]. Then he took me to his room to show me his book, which would have actually been rather interesting had it not been for him explaining to me each image and saying “Ya know?” over and over and over again.

I said once before that I tend to focus on an annoying trait of a guy… and get absolutely grossed out by him. Guess what happened, lol. The night ended with him walking me down stairs, trying to give him a good night hug and instead getting slobber on my turned cheek.

So yeah. Moral of the story is:

Stop meeting people on street corners & most DEFINITELY never date a guy who is younger than me ever again.

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4 thoughts on “twenty-one a no-go.

  1. Hahahahahahahahha, now you have a little friend too!! Didn’t you learn anything from my horrible date back in the days at UCSD, hahahaha, it’s comming all back to me because of this, LOL! xxxx

  2. LOL ATE. i’m only 22 so i wouldn’t mind dating a 21 year old, but damn, that’s so immature. i would have made some excuse like “i feel sick” and i would have peaced out hahahaha you are a trooper!!

  3. Jeez, you’re only 23? Haha, I didn’t realize the age gap between you and Lorie was so great. Haha, I guess I don’t many 22/23 year olds transplanting themselves away from their roots to start a career in a new city.

    Haha, I don’t think meeting people on the street corner is a bad thing per say…but definitely around the time you’re smoking in a bathroom with a bunch of teenagers, it’s usually a sign to bail out.

  4. Haaaaahahaha. “Do you smoke.. This illegal.. Marijuana stuff?” Awesome.

    I was at Disneyland on a crowded tram back to the parking lot. I had a “Happy Birthday” pin on me and this cute boy [obvs really young] said, “Soooo, how old are you now?” And of course, I made him guess because it’d be no fun if I just told him outright — “16?” “Er. No. How old are you?” “15. Are you.. younger? Or older?” “Er. Think up. Like nine years up.” I didn’t know people could turn that red. Lesson: Don’t meet people at D-Land either.

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