awkward is the name of the game

Ten minutes into our first round of drinks:
Coworker: "So... I need to tell you something."
Me: "Umm, ok...."

(Ohmigod, do you have a child?  An STD?  A boyfriend?!)

Coworker: "I'm not really ready for this."
Coworker:  "I mean, a serious relationship."
Coworker: "I'm still not over my ex...."

Whoa, buddy.  Back the hell up.

Are we about to DTR this right now??  Across from the bartender?



No, we aren't.  I sort of look at him.  And blink.  We somehow awkwardly move on from that confession.  Three hours and a decent bar tab later, he walks me to my car. 

Unfortunately, the two vodka cocktails and a giant glass of wine convinces me that the parking lot is a fantastic place to continue our earlier conversation... 

For an aspiring writer, he's shockingly bad with words.  There was a lot of emotional vomit.  "I'm in a really bad place."  "I don't really have much to offer." "Blahblahblah"

It essentially felt like the stereotypical "It's not you, it's me" talk.

Slow down, dude.

What just happened?  We've gone out a handful of times.  It's been fun.  There's chemistry.  But, like, it's only been two seconds.

I don't want a serious relationship; maybe that wasn't clear?  In fact, I was pretty undecided about this whole situation-- my pro/con list for you currently had more cons than pros.


When you asked me upstairs for a drink, I said this was a bad idea.  The first time you kissed me, I said this was a bad idea.  When you wanted me to stay over, I said this was a bad idea.

And, in the end, I was right.





Really, I should have questioned this the minute you admitted you wanted a tattoo of your favorite baseball team's logo.



"Why don't you be the artist/ And make me out of clay?/
Why don't you be the writer/ Decide the words I say?" -The Writer, Ellie Goulding