No Pants Dance

It was a Saturday night and I was having some people over to hang out and drink a few beers.  My friend called me to see what I was doing and he said he was coming home from a Yankees game and he was with Guy #1.  So, I told him that I was at the house and whatnot.  He was on his way.

            They get to the house and everyone has been drinking for hours at this point.  Them included.  No one can go to a Yankees game and not get a little boxed up.  Where is the fun in that?  So they’re at the house and the drinking continues.  Needless to say people were leaving and I was trying to do my laundry as well as have fun. 

            I went downstairs to get the laundry and he came with me. (Like I didn’t know that was going to happen!)  And we were talking for a few minutes; he showed me how to properly fold pants like they do in the Navy.  It was all very absurd.  But as is typical I can’t seem to do anything that’s not absurd these days.  Moving on. 

            So now as were walking back upstairs (on the outside of the house mind you) we start the whole making out thing again.  I don’t know whats going on anymore with this frigging guy.  The mixed signals are amazing really.   One second I’m getting my face chewed off and then the next I am getting nothing, and by nothing I mean saying things that piss me off and its just fucking frustrating as shit.  I just don’t get it, but I also know that I can’t do anything about it.  Were not in a relationship, I have zero say in anything he says or does.  But damnit, its annoying!

            Needless to say, that was that and we went back to the party. 

            As the night goes on and the drinks are flowing insanely fast one by one the partiers start dropping off.  One leaves, one falls asleep on the couch, Guy #1 passes out on the floor, and here is me and my friend, Reg, watching them sleep and taking pictures of them for later use.  (Which definitely are going to come in handy).

            We try to wake them up to make them more comfortable for their naps, and it was impossible!  I got smacked in the hand, yelled at in foreign languages, and told to “shut up!”  Here I am trying to be nice and shit, and I am being treated like a nag!  (I mean, I guess I was nagging, but whatever). 

            So Reg and I go to sleep.  She stays in my guest room, and I am in my room.  I don’t know how many hours passed, but the next thing I knew my bed sagged and there was a heavy arm on my.  FYI, I don’t like being touched when I’m trying to sleep unless its spoon style.  I was a little put off.

            The next morning we wake up, he is gone, and I’m hurting.  I went back to sleep and am awoken when Guy #1 and our friend come walking into my room and lift me off the bed.  I am PIIISSEEDD now.  They’re laughing and talking about me, as my pants were falling off my body and I clearly wasn’t wearing a bra so it was definitely a sight.  It was awesome.

            They went out and got us coffee and egg sandwiches…  And more beer.  It was now 8am and they were settling into an 18 pack.  I couldn’t even look at the drinking.  It was painful for me!

            So as were sitting around my living room that morning we were bull shitting about the night before.  And Guy #1 says to the crowd at large, “last night I crept into bed with her (me).  Yup, I took my pants off and cuddled.”

            “Woah woah woah!  Come on dude.”

            He just laughed at my being uncomfortable.

            But now, see, this is the thing.  Why are we going to announce to the people at my house that you snuck into my room, removed your pants, and jumped into bed with me?  I don’t get it.  Why even say it at all?  I mean, they all already know we have carnal knowledge of each other, why make it weird?!

            Later that day, they were still drinking.  They went to another local bar that does Bloody Mary Sunday Bunch and on my way home from a bridal shower I swung in to say hello to them.  Now, ready for what he says in front of a crowded bar of patrons?

            “Hello honey!  Come over here and give me a hug.”

            WHAT?!  Now were going to hug in public and call each other honey?!

            OK.  I’m cool with that.

            So of course I give him a hug and smile and I sit down next to him.  He throws his arm around my shoulder and we chat a little bit about nothing in particular.  Whatever.  So as I am going to leave he says something to me in which my reaction was, “ugh, shut up I hate you.”

            “No, you don’t hate me.  You love me.  You love me a lot.”

            Love is a bit of an overstatement.  I mean, infatuation, desire, like a lot, maybe more than I should.  Those would be words to describe my feelings towards him, but I don’t think I am going to call it love at this juncture.  He loves me though.  Evil plans are working.  But, until then, in the name of blogging and research and random sexual encounters, I am leaving him on the back burner until he figures out what he wants.