Throw Another Shrimp on the Barbie
I was out with some friends at one of the many summer street fests in Chicago, well on my way to “I might not remember this tomorrow” territory. About 4 hours in, it all gets pretty fuzzy, but the details I know for sure happened are thus:
- I met a boy on the street outside a bar
- My friends were in the bar
- I decided that I’d leave with the boy for another bar
- Boy and I got in a cab and went to another bar.
- We made out in the cab.
- Boy’s roommates showed up at the bar
- At some point, I was over it and left the bar and went home
Over a month later, I wake up early on a weekday to a text sent the night before, from an unknown number. I’m thinking to myself “Hmmmm, that’s odd, no idea who this person is.” It starts with just figuring out where the area code is from – and then I’m like, “Who the eff do I know from there??” and thus begins the black hole of internet stalking at 6A on a weekday. It takes me all of 5 minutes to connect the dots and figure out who the person is. Spoiler alert – it’s that guy from the street fest. Furthermore, I find out that when we were making out in a cab, he apparently had a girlfriend, and even better than that, from her Instagram it appears they broke up all of about 24 hours ago. WINNER!
Now, what you are thinking at this point is:
“What a loser, I hope you told him to go fly a kite.”
But what I am thinking at this point is:
Oh this is gonna be GOOD.
Even though I know this guy’s blood type and the names of his maternal grandparents at this point, I reply, “Sorry, but I don’t know who you are.” He asks if I remember the guy I had a “wild afternoon” with after meeting at the street fest a few weeks back. I say “Oh yeah barely.” He asks how I’ve been. I tell him I’ve been just peachy, hanging out with boys who wait less than a month to get in touch. Then this mother fucker tells me he was in AUSTRALIA farming fucking LIVESTOCK and he couldn’t contact me.