The Beginning of the End
23 August 2007 at 5:34 pm

You know how in the glory that is chick lit, the heroine manages to not only get rid of the bad influence in her life, fall in love, get her heart broken, and find herself physically in the wildest of circumstances only to find herself metaphorically by the end of the novel because she ends up with the person who truly loves her? Or, since I am an English major after all, you know how the most complained about aspect of Jane Eyre is that she and Rochester end up together in the end? Why can't she just be alone, we wonder? (I based a ten-page paper on why she can't just be alone, but that's not the point here). The point is this: my life for the last month has been the thing that chick lit is made of: a complete and utter waste of space, entertaining to those around me but painful for myself. And I didn't get the guy in the end; in fact, the only lesson I'm learning here is how to be really, truly, actually, completely and utterly alone (save for some amazing family members and unbelievable friends).

It all started in Vegas, standing in front of New York, New York, waiting for Euliza, I believe to get back from the bathroom. To hear him tell it, he stopped in his tracks and I made some sort of movement that let him know it was okay to talk to me. The way I remember it is, this guy stopped in his tracks and I blew out a puff of smoke and glared. We talked for the next few hours, he kissed me, we exchanged email addresses, and that was that. I went on with my weekend.

Except I couldn't stop thinking about him, so I emailed him this:

Dear Johnny Tapps, JP H---, That Guy From East London Who I Met In Vegas, etc:

This is me not giving a fuck and emailing you in spite of my better judgment. To tell you the truth, I am not That Girl, who lets random boys buy her drinks and waffles or who attempts to make contact after an impossible situation. With that said, thank you for the chivalry and fuck you for making me become That Girl. (Just kidding.) (Maybe.) I wanted to let you know that you most definitely ruined my weekend, as promised, and as evidenced by this e-mail being written at 1am on Saturday night while I sit in the hotel room as my girls are out gallivanting on the strip. In the likely event that you don't respond, just know that you demonstrated to one American girl the value of a British accent and a mutual admiration for the Libertines. At this exact point in time, there's a lot more I could say but I will censor myself to avoid exposing what is ultimately my very dirty mind...also, am very drunk, not sure any of this makes sense.

Maybe a little smitten, but you'll never get me to admit it,

Morgan

(The girl you met your last night in Vegas.)

And spent the rest of the weekend contemplating what a horrible idea it was, WHY did I do that, how embarrassing, and oh yeah, I have a boyfriend-soon-to-be-fiance so why do I feel this way anyway?

But the thing of it is, he emailed me back this:

Dear Miss B---,

Just got into my office and thought I would check out your Myspace before I start to wade through the backlog of mail accumilated over a few days. I decided to return to your page after I had woken up and was capable of leaving a message that didn't make myself look an idiot. The last thing I expected was for you to have sent me a message before I could contact you. ( the first thing to put a smile on my face since I walked out of Excalibur!).

The last thing I imagined was to meet a girl like you in Vegas. Unfortunately, it didn't make coming back to the reality of England any easier. You could have made it alot easier to get you out of my head by being another peroxide blonde obsessed with hip hop and devoid of a real personality. ( but then I guess I would not have been so tansfixed when I saw you.)

I'm not sure that meeting you was the best thing that could have happend as I now have a feeling that I havn't had since I was a teenager. You know the feeling.....wanting something you can't have. However, I really would hate to not have any contact with you ever, so make sure we do not lose touch!!!!!!!!

I just want to thank you for the best way to end my Vegas adventure. And for making yourself unforgettable to me.

Johnny. X

P.S. Would have loved to have heard more from you "very dirty mind"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A little--well, a lot heavy on the exclamation points, not the most immaculate spelling, and the signature lives on (my friends refer to him as Johnny X or Mr. X, which, if you watched Arrested Development, WHICH OBVIOUSLY YOU DIDN'T SINCE IT'S BEEN CANCELED, is really, really funny. I won't tell you why; just rent the damn DVDs), but having been out of the dating game for so long, and not even really being a part of it at this point yet, I was thrilled with any response.

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.