The one where I make at least 3 major mistakes. And about 23746873 minor ones. Completely sober 
After we basically dared each other to go on another
date by having a really hot post-cycle shag – is that magnificent or fucked up?
I honestly can’t tell – it was my turn to be creative about what we could do
next Saturday.
Mother (this one is actually you, Mazzy) has always warned
me against putting all my eggs in one basket. It’s common sense, really, and a
good rule to live by, especially when applied to dating and hedge funds. But, as
one would’ve guessed, I’ve never been able to effectively adopt this policy into
my life, choosing instead to act in favour of my all-or-nothing extremist – I
prefer the term avant-garde, but don’t want to come off too pompous; I need you
to like me – tendencies.
What I should’ve done was to take up Tom’s offer to grab
dinner some time. Or Pete’s offer for coffee, or even Alex’s offer to teach me
how to shoot hoops. But what I did was suggest a hike through the forest. And I
wasn’t joking. (Really creative, tell me about it.) Thankfully, it stormed. In
the spirit of adventure, Sean decided that we would go to the theatre for A
Midsummer’s Night Dream.
As is usual, I was a bit dazed during the play. C’mon, you
guys, I don’t even know what’s going on in Modern Family half the time. (Are
Mitchell and Cameron gay?) Granted, I wasn’t paying full attention to the stage
because I was admiring Sean’s face every ten minutes. But they had me at act I,
scene i, line 1 with their Shakespearean English (gibberish), that was way too
fast and lost in thick accents.
What I did manage to take away from the play was the
comforting fact that with the help of fairies and some magic, we can make
anyone fall in love with us. (Phew!) And what I found more comforting yet, was
the fact that even in the mid-1590s, love was just as erratic, incomprehensible
and exceptionally powerful as it is today. Love didn’t evolve over the
centuries to become this monster due to our rising carbon emissions or whatever
it is we do as humans to ruin beautiful things. It did and continues to inspire people to
behave ludicrously; it’s been a monster all along, nobody has been spared.
Hand to God, I haven’t woken up in enough morning-afters to know
what the proper etiquette is. I considered pulling an Irish Goodbye, which I’ve
done once thinking it would be to my benefit, but I actually felt worse believe
or not. So I decided to just wing it at the other extreme by hiding under the
covers and pretending to be asleep while Sean went about his morning routine.
Maybe if I lay very still, he’d forget that I’m even here. Or
maybe if I closed my eyes and hugged my knees tight enough, I’d wake up back in
my own bed. Is there an app for this already? There should be, pretty big
market I think. Teleport of Shame, I’d call it. Then he collapsed back into bed
saying, “Do you want to get some breakfast? I’m starving.” Despite experiencing a near
fatal aneurism while dressing myself, I managed to crack the worst joke ever
along the lines of how it was really sweet of him to take his hooker out for Eggs Benedict.
Do not do this. Please. Just… No.
