Ok... so this may be one of the most pathetic, though hilarious, first blog postings to ever be penned (especially with a title with the word "romance" in it). I'll say from the get-go, I'm not THAT romantically challenged, so the story that follows is actually more humorous than sad... I hope. I suppose though, that because of the nature of the blog title, the story of last weekend is ultimately appropriate, as there is really nowhere to go but up!
Let's start from the very beginning (a very good place to start)... so last week was, for lack of better words, like hell. It was one of those weeks where all you can do is take it 1 day at a time, sometimes, 1 hour at a time... with 4 exams, there wasn't much else I could do without feeling like I would rather get an enema from a hairy-moled softball-player named Olga. Well, Saturday afternoon rolls around and I finally finish my last test (and an upper division economics one at that... why I do this to myself, I know not), and I get back to my apt with one thing on my mind: veg out!
So after 3 too many hours of mindless television, I said to myself, "Get it together! It's Saturday night and you are NOT going to spend it in front of the boob tube!" (I know... I haven't heard it called a boob tube since 3rd grade either) I hop in the shower and get ready to head out with my 2 great friends, Sian-Amy and Amy, to some charity carnival being held up on campus. Now let me tell you, for some blessed reason, I looked good! It was one of those times that you cherish because everything about you looks great... the hair has been perfectly quaffed with hardly any effort at all, the jeans fit better than ever, and dang! does that jacket make me look hott with a whopping double t! (thank you for obliging me in going off on that oh so Narcissistic rant) Generally, when one looks good, one feels good, and that, my friends, was the case that night. I was officially prepared to take on the world with one glance in the mirror.
So we're heading up to campus, and bless their hearts, I love them, but those 2 girls start going off on the "I need a boyfriend rant." Girls, you know exactly what that is - boys, if you haven't the slightest of what I'm talking about, consider yourself spared. You see, I feel like friends are like tofu; they take on whatever flavor they're put with. If we're put with happy, we're happy; if we're put with sad, we're sad... so on and so forth. I fall into the tofu stereotype perfectly; ergo, I get the "I need a girlfriend bug" and it's all downhill from there.
Needless to say, the night did NOT go as planned... We ended up not staying very long at the carnival and, having been brought down from the top of the world, I decline the invitation to watch another period drama (Persuasion), deciding to simply make my way back home. Ok... finally... here comes the pinnacle of this story, proving that I really DO have a loooooooooong process to make any progress to romance. Up to this point, it probably seems that my life isn't as rock bottom as I've made it seem, but not to fear! pathetic is here! You see, I don't do much better by myself than if I had stayed to watch Persuasion... in fact, I think I actually did worse since I would have at least been with 2 beautiful girls if I had stayed to watch Persuasion!
So there I am; it's 10:30 on a Saturday night, and I'm a 22 yr old college kid heading to an empty apartment faced with the depressing thought that I am the official loser sitting in his apt on the weekend. How do I solve this little predicament!? I hop on into my car, head to the grocery store, and buy a half gallon of Mother Lode ice cream and a bag of Doritos. But just wait! it gets worse! I head on home, get into pajamas, grab a blanket and a spoon, and waaaaiiit for it..... waaaaaiiiit for it!... I pop in the oh so sappy, terribly depressing, tear-jerking, why am I watching this, Nicholas Sparks original... A Walk to Remember.
If I don't know already how sad this looks, about an hour later, my roommate, David, walks in... he looks at me, looks at the tv, back at me, down to the ice cream... finally, back up to me... raises an eyebrow, and simply says, "Rough night?" I couldn't have said it better myself.
Sooooo.... moral of the story... for any of you that are feeling down on yourselves, thinking that you're pathetic, just picture a thinning-haired Hugh Grant look-a-like staring down at a pitiful man holding a spoon and a half-gallon tub of ice cream watching a sappy chic-flic (alone), asking those piercing words, "rough night?"