By Holly A. Phillips
“I had held my cool for almost two months, and then I ruin it by ripping shots, before face-planting in bed next to my mega-crush.”
I’ve had a crush on a guy at my gym for a few months now. In the past, I haven’t had the best of luck with gym guys, but this one was really sexy.
When I’m interested, it’s difficult for me to keep calm and not throw myself at the person (swear I’m not desperate).
But, I really wanted something to come of it, so I played it cool. And after six weeks of doing so, he asked for my number.
We sent text messages back-and-forth for a few days before he asked me what I was up to that weekend.
I had plans to visit a girlfriend in New Orleans. Coincidentally, he was heading there, too.
“Let me know where you end up and maybe we’ll meet you,” I told him.
At 10 pm that night, he was rounding the corner to meet us at Domenica. I’d been drinking for almost 10 hours.
We had a round of drinks before heading to Lucy’s, where I switched from champagne to vodka, and before I knew it, we were taking shots.
I recall asking him about his last relationship (face palm), and mentioning that I’d swooned over him on my blog (such a class act).
Nearly six hours later, we hopped in a cab. He was dangling my girlfriend’s house key in front of my face, while she checked into a hotel with his cousin.
We get back to her place and started making out. I also remember some form of ass-smacking, but this may or may not be made up in my sick brain.
I opened my eyes the next morning to find him next to me, shirtless, in my friend’s bed.
I was still fully clothed (I was even wearing a scarf from the day before), and he was in jeans.
Two things ran through my mind: A. He looked damn fine and B. Why was I such a drunken idiot?
I had held my cool for almost two months, and then I ruined it by ripping shots, before face-planting in bed next to my mega-crush.
“It’s too early to be awake,” he said, in his sweet drawl.
I looked in his direction, noticing cups from Harrah’s on the nightstand – I barely recall being there.
“You don’t remember dancing with that guy?” he asked. “You guys were getting down.”
I’m not sure if I’ve ever hated myself more than I did right then.
But we needed to get back uptown where our friends were. We headed to my car, even though I felt too hungover to function.
“This was not how it was supposed to go,” I told him. “That was not how I imagined our first kiss.”
He gave a little chuckle that secured our fate – I had royally f*cked this one up, and we didn’t even have sex.
I dropped him off, parked the car, and my friend and I found a table for brunch.
“How long have you guys been hanging out?” she asked.
I explained to her that it was our first time even seeing each other outside of the gym, and that I’d probably blown it, given the fact that I acted like a fool.
“No,” she said. “You were cool.”
Just then, he sent me a text saying he had a great time.
The knot in my stomach loosened; maybe there was still a chance for me to win him over.
I filled the void with sweet potato biscuits, drove home, and crawled into bed to nurse my hangover. After a nap, I woke up to another message from him: “You should come over.”
Read more about making a first impression on Holly’s blog, TheBitterLemon.com.
Drinking and Dating
Be Careful When Mixing:
1. Know Limits: Know what you can handle. If it’s only two beers, then stop after two beers.
2. Hydrate: Drink a glass of water between cocktails, so you can keep your cool.
3. Apologize: If you drink too much and act-a-donkey, all you can do is apologize… and then stuff yourself with fried food and mayonnaise.