Dateline: "She looks at my red pants and asks, 'Could you invite me to your yacht club sometime?'"
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10:10 a.m. – Wake up with a hangover (of the hazy and non-painful variety). My roommate texts me and says he'll be home within the hour. It's a Saturday, which means a well-earned visit to our usual day-drinking spot to usher in the rest of the weekend.
10:37 – I jocundly throw on a navy Ralph Lauren polo and a pair of Christmas cords (red cords that have monogrammed Christmas trees on them) that I rock when in season. I know, a heterosexual male shouldn't be this excited about clothing, but I can't help it.
10:45 – The pleasant weather has little effect in casting aside my holiday spirit. I pour some rum-nog into a mason jar and casually sip, awaiting my roommate's arrival.
10:47 – Sipping turns into chugging, on account of the perfect combination of rum and nog I've mixed. As I down the dregs, my roommate bursts into the room in high spirits and puts down a couple beers before we head off to the day-drinking spot to meet a girl who we studied abroad with the past summer. She's bringing friends.
12:13 p.m. – The pitchers start flowing. I get situated next to the hottest friend. Success.
1:35 – As inebriation starts hitting us, the attractive friend and I get more and more distant from the group's conversation, so we decide to start our own. She looks at my red pants and asks jokingly, "Could you invite me to your yacht club sometime?"
1:36 – I've received this bit before, so I'm not as taken aback or offended as I used to be. Although I do come from a very well-to-do family, my dad was rags-to-riches, and remained a no-bullshit guy who made certain that his children didn't end up spoiled. I party with kids who complain about the spotty wi-fi signals on their private planes. These people have dodged the "ignominy" that comes with traveling on the ground their entire lives. I owe everything to my dad (and my mom too). Small tangent: when I was a child, he had me memorize famous poems so I could entertain the guests before holiday dinners. I did a mean "In Flanders Fields." I love my dad.
1:50 – We continue talking, and she's actually piquing my interest. She asks me why I'm an accounting major. I tell her my dad suggested it; he figured that in a difficult job market, if I were to ever be laid-off, I'd have that in my back pocket. It's moderately recession-proof. Smart move. But before I can even give her the rationale, I'm pelted with more "old-boys' club" remarks. (Tasteful ones, though!)
1:52 – Careful maneuvering on my part and rejoining the group conversation get me out of that jam…
3:57 – …but despite my chalking the situation up as a loss, as we get ready to leave, she gives me her number.
4:13 – Roommate and I part ways with the girls to get an early dinner in before the nighttime activities. The alcohol is unquestionably packing a punch at this point, which results in me blacking out at a Buffalo Wild Wings.
6:26 – I regain consciousness right as I'm taking a photo with two other girls with whom I had studied abroad. The girl taking the photo is, much to my dismay, someone I begrudgingly blind-dated in high school. Small world.
6:27 – I shake the scene.
10:34 – After taking a nap, roommate and I commence forcing down ambitiously-poured Jack and Cokes, getting ready to go out. I receive a text from the girl from day-drinking, saying we should meet up. Roommate and I share a laugh about how improbable this was, given the red pants, etc.
12:13 a.m. – We charge the bars; roommate has a girl he's texting. We begin game-planning and calling audibles for the night ahead.
12:36 – I enter the bar where I'm meeting my girl, and wish my roommate good luck. Then I walk upstairs and find her. After ordering drinks and chatting a little, we dance.
1:36 – We leave the bar, and begin the long walk back. She, very cutely, suggests that we walk around and look at Christmas lights. Splendid idea.
3:12 – It's a warm December night, and we get to talking about the subject we'd discussed before. She apologizes (unnecessarily) for her jokes from earlier. Then she starts asking if my major is something I really want to do.
3:13 – I've never really thought about this. I come to the stark realization that my major was more assigned than chosen.
4:15 – I rationalize, but she's not buying. She says she'd hate to see my love of life and good humor dissipate. We begin making out.
4:34 – We walk up to the main street to see the college-town Christmas lights. In passing, she mentions that she knows the female part to "Baby, It's Cold Outside." Foxiest holiday-specific song ever.
4:45 – I look down at my phone and see a dozen "where the hell are you?" texts from my roommate.
4:55 – Roommate swings by the pizza shop and meets us. It's approaching five, and I figure any reasonable person shouldn't invite a girl upstairs at this hour. Especially sober. We drop her off and she immediately texts me that she had a marvelous time and hopes to see me soon. Roommate asks if we've reached the "open purse, remove balls" stage of our relationship yet. She and I start seeing each other regularly. I get ready to have some serious dialog with my dad.