A Birthday to Remember

Once upon a time, can't believe how long ago, I had a very short-lived affair. A few shacks, a couple dates, a ride home from Purdue - really nothing to write home about. 

Except that the affair was with one of my brother's best friends. 

(Brother may have won the battle in high school with the "overprotective big bro" thing he had going on, but once I turned 21...all bets were off.)

So yeah, I ran into Friend at the bars one night - he was at a bachelor party that Brother had (conveniently for me) bailed out on, and I was just out of college and trying not to be "Brother's little sister" anymore. 

But Brother was still very much in overprotective mode. Like, "bodily harm would result" levels of overprotective. Therefore, we kept it very, very secret. 

(Which, naturally, was half the fun.) 

I'll spare you the details. Like I said, short-lived affair. I moved to DC, he called sporadically, we rekindled a few times when I was home visiting. End of fun, but not very exciting story?

Last time I saw him was at Brother's wedding - three years ago. He was there with a date but texting me from the next table, flirting with the idea of a rendezvous behind the wedding tent. (In a moment of rare good judgment, I opted out)

The sporadic phone calls continued all through law school - "Hey B, it's me - I'm in town, we should get together." I carefully avoided them all. (Woot, more good judgment!)

Because, wait for it, by this time Wedding Date was his GF. And they were living together. And she had become BFFs with Brother and his wife...  

Of course she had.

You may ask: where am I going with this?

Guess who's hosting Brother's birthday party tomorrow? That would be me. 

Guess who will be attending? That would be Friend. 

Guess who else? That would be Wedding Date/GF/BFF

This oughta be good.

(And for the cherry on top: Have I mentioned that the guest of honor is in AA? And thus I will be navigating this minefield without a cocktail in hand?)

So really, by "good", I mean "potentially never-before-reached levels of uncomfortable"

Bad Boys II

You remember this guy? 

I managed to avoid him for a year. AN ENTIRE YEAR. 

Do you know how impressive that is at law school? Seriously, we are all locked together in the same building, the same classroom even, for 10 hours a day. It required keeping my head down, looking very busy, faking iPhone distractions, and occasionally just straight up hiding. But I avoided him. For a whole year.

And then...

Oh yes, my ghost of Halloween past returned to haunt me. 

It started when I ran into him during composite pictures.* The moment had arrived when I couldn’t avoid him any longer. (I would have tried, trust me, but we were the only two people there and we had a long wait. Even I cannot realistically check my email for that long. ) He gave me bedroom eyes. I blushed bright red. [Note: I blush easily, it's really not fair.] Awkward small talk ensued.

Over the next few days, we ran into each other at school a few more times. Awkward hellos were exchanged.

Cut to the next week. I sign onto Facebook during class, as all good law students do. All of a sudden, my biker boy starts FB chatting me. WTF? 

And what does he lead with? 

"Hey, hope it wasn't awkward running into each other last week."

"Umm maybe a little awkward. Did my bright red face give it away?" [I'm telling you. Not fair.]

Then, for an even better follow-up, he tells me that he would like to repeat the occasion, but his girlfriend wouldn’t be too happy. Oh, but wait, what were his chances? Just hypothetically?

Yeah, he actually lives with a girl – a girl who is also in law school - and is still trying to get me in bed.

Have guys always been this shameless!? Or does shamelessness come with the leather? (Actually yeah, that would make sense.)

Anyway, I told him that homewrecking wasn’t really my thing and tried to disengage from the conversation as quickly as possible. Even so, he managed to elicit a few more blushes...[So. Not. Fair.]

PS – As it turns out, boys are not only shameless, they are also really into FB chat. That turned out to be the first of three ridiculous conversations I had with three shameless boys in three consecutive days. I think maybe it’s time to leave FB. 

Oh who am I kidding?

*Composite pictures, really? Like I haven’t done enough of those? And yes, of course I wore pearls – triple strand.

Strict Scrutiny: The Dating Game

So I'm having a Carrie Bradshaw moment ("I began to wonder...") and felt the need to write about "dating." I promise not to do this too often, as there is only so much that can be said. But bear with me this time and I promise I will get it out of my system...

As most single girls can attest, by the time you reach your mid-20's...oh my God, I literally just remembered that I am 25. My birthday was 5 months ago, and I had actually forgotten I was this old. How can this be possible? Law school is destroying my sanity. (Also, if I was still 24 I was going to try to claim early-20's. Denial is a powerful cocktail, kids. Especially when mixed with Myers rum and a Tyenol PM, as mine is soon to be.)

Ok, anyway, back to my Carrie Bradshaw intro: mid-20's, single girls. Likely, by this point you have run up a decent tally of boys. (They are all boys. Even the ones who've hit 30.) But lately it seems like each one I meet is a new and less-improved version of the last. So from now on, it is time to start applying strict scrutiny as the standard of review for all guys who enter my life. Granted, I'm not sure what constitutes a "compelling" interest. But I can certainly name a few examples of what is not compelling. In no particular order...

• If you are engaged.
• If you are married. Seriously, 6 months is still newlywed. Go home to your wife.
• If you tell me you're getting back together with your quasi-lesbian ex from back home.
• If you tell me you're getting back together with your quasi-lesbian ex from back home, but actually get with a girl in my class. Reminder: I passed the LSAT - I will solve this logic problem.
• If your nickname involves a food item (or a large, if cuddly bear...you know who you are.)
• If your pick up line is "I hate you for being a Republican, but it's so hot." If my political views are offensive to you, why are you hitting on me?
• If your pick up line references Obama, Sarah Palin, or Joe the Plumber. Find new talking points.
• If you have a tattoo of a children's toy from the 80s. Honestly, we get it - you're never going to grow up.
• If you listen to gangsta rap. You will never have street cred. Let the dream die.
• If your Facebook profile has quotes from any of the following: Learned Hand, Richard Posner, your professor, case law, lame songs, pretentious authors, pretentious poets, pretentious hipsters.
• If you ride a motorcycle. Though really this is just my attempt to end my adolescent bad boy fixation. (Please see below)
• If you are wearing a popped collar and a Croakie. I know, coming from me this may sound surprising. But let me be clear: I condone, even encourage, the latter and I may make exceptions for the former.* But in combination, no. Just no.
• If your idea of a date starts with a text message at midnight. We all know what that is, and the word "date" is not involved.
• For that matter, if all contact comes in the form of 160 characters or less? Just dial the number and hit the green button, it's not that hard, guys.
• If you wear CZ earrings. I know this trend has pretty much disappeared, but I think we all need to remember our history, lest we be doomed to repeat it.
• If you are my height barefoot...grow four inches and then return. Because I am never barefoot. (But let's be honest, I have never and will never stick to this. I'm just aspiring to find one guy over six feet tall - a girl can dream right?)

*For instance, after 10 PM; while wearing boat shoes on a boat; at the horse races; while fist pumping at the Tombs; if the Georgetown night gets extra yuppy; if multiple RBVs are involved; while mimosas are being served to ugly people on the deck of Old Glory; if the Polo is not already pink (or an equally over-the-top pastel).

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

I am developmentally stunted. They spent years telling us how advanced and fabulous we were in TAG class, but they left me utterly unprepared and disadvantaged in one key area: boys.

Seriously, put a bunch of nerdy kids together all day, every day throughout their formative years and they are bound to end up a bit retarded about the opposite sex. For example: in fifth grade, a girl in our class wrote a fake love letter and signed it with the name of a boy in our class. A boy who walked straight into high school and straight out of the closet.

So anyway, I left grade school behind years again (although law school doesn't seem to realize this), but I am just now realizing how behind I am.

Case in point: I keep falling for bad boys. This is the same fixation that every other girl got out of her system at age 15...except me. And it's not just any bad boy, but THE most cliche of all bad boys. You know, the one in the leather jacket, smoking a cigarette and leaning against his motorcycle.

I met one the other night. He started talking about his bike and I practically squealed. "Oh my god, I can't believe you ride a motorcycle! [batting eyelashes] Isn't it dangerous?? [touching arm]" (Answer: yes, just ask his busted knee.) You could practically hear the Grease soundtrack start playing.

Luckily (yeah, luckily) my memory is pretty spotty by this point, so the rest of the embarrassing details are lost in a haze of High Life and hormones. Of course, had this actually been high school we would have made out under the bleachers and I would be home by curfew. Instead, I woke up the next morning with various items of leather and motorcycle boots strewn across my floor and a hell of a hangover...

I blame TAG.

(Also, shh, don't tell my parents.)