The boy deserves a nickname by now. He will be dubbed Breakfast Boy. He's oddly passionate about Special K, we compared our milk to cereal ratios once in the dining hall, we both attended a Friendsgiving brunch, and I have woken up next to him at breakfast time on three occasions now.
Last night, I went to a "Bad Bitches Only" party, fully inspired by Susan B. Anthony. I met up with him after. I was drunk, and he was sober. I confessed to him that I thought he was too nice and explained why that was a turn off initially. He told me that I'm super unresponsive to his advances. Which he probably said because I talked for a full hour before I even kissed him. SUCH a classic slagzy thing to do. I mean we both know why we're there at 2am on a Saturday. But hey, I'll just keep talking like an idiot about that box of oatmeal over there! and look at my cool socks! and I played Mario Cart drunk!
I don't talk because I'm nervous. I talk because I don't understand how you get from Point A of being in full winter wardrobe to Point B of being naked with the lights off. I've told him two separate nights that I think the distance from the bed to the light switch is so far. I just don't get what comes first: the lights or the clothes?
I feel like there should be a universal rule about when you TURN OFF or DIM the lights. I'm too focused on the GOD DAMN LIGHTS all the time. Not because I don't want him to see me naked in the orange florescent light. But because the lights are this small, weird THING that has to be decided before the end of the night. It's like when you are picking between grocery stores. It doesn't matter which one you go to because they sell the same exact stuff, but someone has to JUST DECIDE at SOME POINT because WE ALL KNOW its going to happen before dinnertime.
This morning, Breakfast Boy asked if I got much sleep. We were both squished in his dumb twin XL bed, and I was pushed up against a brick wall. The answer was obviously no, I didn't get much sleep. And then he asked, "Would you like to get out of here?"
He was really suggesting that I leave so we could both get some sleep. But the way he phrased it wasn't nice, it was strange. Then he said he was going to get breakfast, study, etc. I guess he just wanted to get on with his day? But why couldn't we go get breakfast together?
My feelings were hurt, even though I know he didn't mean to hurt them. Like I've said before: this boy is so nice (TOO nice), and there is no way he meant to be rude. I feel dumb. I feel dumb because I shouldn't be sad. I feel dumb because I worry about the lights. I feel dumb because I still don't know what to do once the lights are off. I also feel dumb because his ex-girlfriend of two and a half years goes to Harvard. Awesome!