Hello and welcome to your daily dose of M’s embarrassing inability to act like a normal person in front of a guy. Yes, you read that right. Remember how I said every story of a relationship involves something super embarrassing happening at the beginning? Well, bingo. Cheers to that – here’s what happened. And also to why I don’t think I’ll ever have a boyfriend anytime soon.
I’m a struggling pre-med student. Who isn’t pre-med and struggling (if you’re not struggling as pre-med please, let me know your secrets and the rest of the world, we’d love to hear it)? Sometimes pre-med students are socially awkward. But in contrast, I’m also a journalism major. I’m legitimately learning how to talk to people, perfecting my people skills. So there are the people pleaser journalists and the socially awkward pre-meds. And then, there’s me. I’m a whole different category. Sometimes I have my shit together. Sometimes I don’t.
I’ve been told I’m quite unpredictable, whether that means yelling incoherently random sentences in the frat quad at midnight after a mixer while completely sober and sprinting from one end to the other or simply just keeping to myself and not speaking at all. I’m all ends of the spectrum. Even though I’m sober. Which is 99% of the time. So sometimes, I even surprise myself with how I react. Like the other day.
Let’s start back to Tuesday. I was running late. As usual. When do New Yorkers ever run on time? The answer is they don’t. That phrase means nothing to us. I threw on clothes, brushed my tangled hair, threw on my glasses grabbed my bag and ran to psych class. It was more of a half-assed speed walk because seriously who jogs before noon? Not me. I prefer to gradually start my day.
En route, of course, I bump into S’s friend from our hometown (the one boy I know at school from where we grew up) to whom I swiftly ignored via the most brilliant of strategies: headphones and looking really fucking disinterested. Did I seriously want to make small talk with you on this lovely morning when the sun was shining for the first time in weeks? No. I did not. I kept walking. Don’t have time for insignificant bullshit.
Finally, I make it to the building where my psych class is held. I practically stomp up the two flights of stairs and stealthily open the door to the lecture hall, secretly praying no one turns around to look. I hate being the center of attention. Only a few heads turn. Okay, I can live with that. Where is the closest seat? Back row. Between two people but I’m tiny enough I can slide through without having to go all the way around.
Shit. My backpack.
“Oh my god I’m so so sorry I’m such a mess.”
Of course, I almost whack the person I’m about to sit next to in the head with my backpack. I’m truly a brilliant piece of work. You see the worst part was, not only was this a stranger, but he happened to be a very cute stranger. Instantly I wanted to melt into the seat because of my embarrassment. Way to make a fabulous first impression.
He kinda just smirked at me. I didn’t really know exactly what to do next due to my embarrassment, so I did what any rational student would do in class: took notes and ignored all distractions. Go me. I’m faaaaaaaantastic.
“We’re just learning about eye anatomy it’s interesting. She also keeps doing these experiments with us which are crazy.”
Wait. Was psych boy over here right next to me actually trying to pursue a conversation? I guess maybe I’m not that hopeless. Or maybe I am and he is just being polite. Who knows. We each had received pieces of paper to demonstrate what blind spots in sight are. With the rest of the class, we picked up our papers and found our blind spots… but he and I both burst out laughing at the same time and looked with our giggles at each other instead.
“This is ridiculous. What even is this class.”
The lecture ended. I began to pack my stuff and got up to leave and then I heard this:
“I sit back here in this seat every day, it’s my unofficial assigned seat. You know where to find me now.”
I turned around to look at him and so I nodded and skipped as fast as I could out of there. Instead of flirting back, I ran. Where did my confidence in talking to guys go? I used to be so forward. Why am I the biggest weirdo under the sun? I’m cringing at myself. Way to make your impression even better.
Which brings us the trainwreck that was Thursday. So my original plan was to sit next to him. But oh my did things go differently. My friend was still a tad tipsy from last night so thus I ended up sitting with her because she begged. Our third friend didn’t bother to show up because she slept through class. I sat directly in front of him. And even worse? I didn’t even say hi… because I was too nervous. I’m just waiting for when I mess up things with him further because clearly with boys lately, not my line of perfection. Also my present track record in judgment? Major oof.
For this to go smoothly, I’m gonna need a stellar explanation for why I blew him off. Or I can drop the class and never seen him again. Any ideas? Send a prayer for my sanity. I think I’ll drop the class. My grade in it is about as good as my conversation skills at the moment: it isn’t doing so hot anyway.
M’s forte isn’t boys these days it seems – or psych.