The Letter
Oh man. I haven't posted since last semester. Apparently, taking 12 credits of pure literature classes wasn't the best idea I've ever had. But, finals week is drawing near, papers need to be written, flashcards need to be studied, and instead of doing any of that, I'm going to fill y'all in on some of the awkward moments that have occurred over the last four months of my life.
I've started dating my wonderful friend Spencer, who was present for The Incident. If a man can witness you vomiting in a bowling alley and still want to date you, he's probably a keeper. He's far more romantic than I am, and is in the habit of leaving me little notes and letters if I'm especially stressed or have a test that day.
Not to be outdone, I decided that the next time that he had a test I would write him a note, be more romantic than him, and therefore reclaim my right to femininity. So, I wrote a little note and waited until I saw him between classes to hand it to him. He was walking me to work when we reached the point when we would need to part from each other. Other couples stop and make out or stare lovingly into each other's eyes. We typically high five. Because we're awesome.
So, we're about to part when I remember that I have a note for him in my backpack. I reach into the small pocket on the front and pull out the folded notebook paper on which I have expressed my emotions in the form of a stick-figure cartoon. I hand it over and he looks at it, first with affection, and then in sheer puzzlement. I look over and realize that I have handed him the wrong paper. I handed him this:
I've started dating my wonderful friend Spencer, who was present for The Incident. If a man can witness you vomiting in a bowling alley and still want to date you, he's probably a keeper. He's far more romantic than I am, and is in the habit of leaving me little notes and letters if I'm especially stressed or have a test that day.
Not to be outdone, I decided that the next time that he had a test I would write him a note, be more romantic than him, and therefore reclaim my right to femininity. So, I wrote a little note and waited until I saw him between classes to hand it to him. He was walking me to work when we reached the point when we would need to part from each other. Other couples stop and make out or stare lovingly into each other's eyes. We typically high five. Because we're awesome.
So, we're about to part when I remember that I have a note for him in my backpack. I reach into the small pocket on the front and pull out the folded notebook paper on which I have expressed my emotions in the form of a stick-figure cartoon. I hand it over and he looks at it, first with affection, and then in sheer puzzlement. I look over and realize that I have handed him the wrong paper. I handed him this:
The paper that I had used to blot my lipstick a few days before. Luckily, I still had it in my backpack so I could take a picture of it for you. He says that to this day, he has never seen me laugh harder than I did at that moment as I grabbed the seduction-stained paper from him and handed him the real note. I'm sure many bystanders were worried about my sanity.
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