Six hours into our second date, I was exactly where I wanted to be with the cute junior pre-med student I’d been fantasizing about for months. We’d just finished our post-comedy show dinner at a 24 hour diner and had walked back to the parking lot to find his car (Featured image is my date night outfit). The meal had gone perfectly in every way I would have liked: we played off of each other jokes well, switched naturally from conversation topic to conversation topic, and felt hours go by like minutes as we sat across from each other. Although we’d been chatting nonstop over breakfast foods, when we strapped ourselves into our respective seats, we were silent.
I fully intended on leaving this date with a kiss, and I had to leave the right cues.
He handed me his phone to route Google Maps back to my hotel. I clicked the power button to open it.
I’m writing to you all in a state of panic. I have the total hots for this upperclassman, Charlie, and my feelings for him have only gotten stronger since we began talking at the start of summer break. Although I know that we’ve discussed the prospect of going out on a second date, and have had conversations that have stretched over hours, I can’t help but feel as though I still don’t hold his interest. There will be little spurts where he pays me a flirty compliment, or implies a slight crush, but I can’t help but look for subtext in every text he sends. It’s almost as though my brain doesn’t want him to like me back.
I’ve had the Tinder dating app on my iPhone tease me for a while now. Although I thought I’d given up swiping left and right all together, one boring evening I tapped it open to see who I’d find. I was casually browsing when I’d stumbled upon a familiar face. The curly golden hair, the sculpted jaw, and the soft smile– it was none other than the stunning boy from my first semester psychology class, Charles E. Stetson. His blue eyes gazed into mine through my cellphone screen. What was I to do: swipe left and avoid the possibility of rejection all together, or swipe right and take my slim chances of being liked back? Nervously, I pull his picture to the right. My heart thumps as I let go. Finally, a breath of relief. We matched.
My feelings for my boyfriend have absolutely perished. Currently, I’m at the airport waiting to board my flight back home to New York after a successful freshman year of college, and I’m arguing with my boyfriend, Marlowe, about something that happened last night. Actually, calling it “arguing” would be a stretch considering I give no f*cks about the conversation he’s trying to have with me. He’s essentially been talking at me for the past 2 hours in absurdly long paragraphs.