Some Nerve! Part 5
24 January 2008 at 7:34 pm

I turn off my phone. I put on When Harry Met Sally.... Samantha wakes me up at 9:30am. Great. Another night, another worthless four hours of sleep. I leave my phone at home to drop her off in Isla Vista. We grab a coffee. We go for a walk on the beach (barefoot, in January, because this is where I live). I rant and rave; she beams about what a Nice Boy Julian is. I go home. I have a voicemail from Mark ("Uh oh. Phone's off. That's bad news." Verbatim. Complete. Unabridged.) I call him back. He's already downtown with his friends, but I should feel free to call him anytime and he'll come visit me next time he's in town. Okay, BLATANT rejection, candy-coated, I can take a fucking hint, buddy, and don't do me any favors. "Uh, yeah, okay? Safe trip. Bye." is what I say.

I call my brother. He says, "He's not that into you."

I call Samantha. She says, "He's way too into you."

I call Suzanne. She says, "I will put money on this: he has a girlfriend."

Oh my god. He totally has a girlfriend. That's why he didn't kiss me; that's why he wouldn't sleep with me; it doesn't explain why he continued to make plans to hang out, aside from maybe he wanted us to be best buddies when, clearly, my intentions were sordid in nature.

I call my brother back. He says, "Nope! He just doesn't like you." Thanks, big bro.

It was the most prolonged and most irreverent rejection I've ever experienced. If it turns out that he does have a girlfriend, fan-fucking-tastic, and I wish I could tell him that he's not the first guy to put me in this situation. If it turns out that he just wasn't that into me, then he needs to fine-tune his signal-giving mannerisms.

But whatever, movin' on. The rest of Sunday was fantastic. I made chocolate chip peanut butter brownie cupcakes, went for a visit at Colin and Joe's, met up with Suzanne at the open mic night at J@va Jones, we had a nice conversation on the beach (at 11pm in January, because this is where I live), and passed out pretty early after tidying up a bit. Whatever. Movin' on.

I wish that was the end of it, but ...that would just be too easy.

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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.