the human condition

Girls, you don't want to be thought of as a slut.. so you try to not make it easy for us. But don't ever assume that a guy who is talking to you wants to be just friends. Because he doesn't. Guys talk to girls for very few reasons. And being your buddy isn't one of em. I'm not saying that they don't eventually settle or that there aren't exceptions to this rule. What I am saying is that it is safer to assume that he wants you on your back butt naked than confide in you, emotions and all. I can guarantee he has already pictured you, clothes removed, and that his motivation to pursue you is driven by the lack of satisfaction with a mental image. He is not worried about where to take you on the first date, rather he revels at the possibility of getting laid. But don't let that discourage you. That is not my intention.

Guys will always have those thoughts regardless of how you label them. It doesn't matter where you meet them or how you do. It's more important that you just understand that part about us and move on. We are but simple creatures, with few bottom-line desires and you girls insist on giving those to us so easily, so readily. It's difficult being the girl he wants to introduce to his family and having good symmetry just doesn't cut it. Contrary to what you may believe, every guy wants to meet that special someone. Some of them don't acknowledge it or appreciate it. But at the end of it all, and I do mean life, what we have left is only the memory. Not the memory of all the girls we've been with, but that of the one who called us out on our bullshit and said "I'm your one." So step up. Courting isn't just about how men get women, it's also about how women keep men around.

I get it, we all like sex, but I just met you an hr ago. Being easy makes it very difficult for me to think of you as anything more than just a slut and any future attempt to convince me otherwise has already been foiled by your previous actions. Simply putting out early isn't a strategy to keep a man around, at least for the right reasons. All that it leads to is you being one or two booty calls away from never hearing from the guy again. So, if not being accessible sexually drives him away, then he clearly is or was not that into you.

If you haven't read part 2... click HERE, for part 1... click HERE.

Palms sweating, thoughts racing, my hallway never felt shorter. I hear her close my screen door and as I turn the corner, our eyes lock.

"So, are you ready to go?" She asks. Acting as if that phone call didn't happen.
 I wanted to ignore what I heard, but I know I couldn't.
"Who was that?" I respond.
"Nobody." A quick rebuttal. "Just my mom wondering where I was."
A full lie.

But I accepted it. "Lets see how far this will go." I said to myself again.

I don't frequently put myself in these types of situations but I can deduce without much experience that situations like these don't end well. Evidence for my logic...

Exiting my home, I turn off my lights and notice her clothes still scattered on my couch, she didn't change. It bothers me that she already planned to come back even after our meal. Reflecting on my day as I drive, not listening to a word she's saying, I decide that it was an interesting day, a lazy day. My thoughts are interrupted by a phone call.

One quick look and she hits the lock button. But it rings again. Another quick press of the lock button. It rings again. Apathy switches to annoyance. "Pick it up," I said. "It must be important."

A male voice. A familiar voice. A friend's voice.

And overhearing the conversation was all it took. Memories of the night before flashed in my brain. I pull over. She is surprised by the sudden change of direction, but even more so from what I said next. "Get out."

She knew who I was before she spent the night. She wanted to get back at my friend for cheating on her with her friend. I got pulled into some bullshit drama. "Why me?" I thought. She stares at me in disbelief as if my command was uncalled for. I don't repeat myself but I sit staring right back at her, my thoughts scrambling to make sense of it all.

He's not a close friend, but he certainly has been to my place before. Not close enough to have met his girl... I met her at a club. She was by herself, and only in retrospect did I think her approach to me was odd. She had asked me what I was drinking and I casually responded whisky. The conversation must've went well and moved quickly because I don't remember the finer details, but we ended up back at my place. We kept drinking, played higher or lower and we definitely slept together. The rest is probably lost for good. But I didn't need to recall anymore, because my memories won't change my current fucked situation.

I don't have a resume for being a home wrecker and I don't like being one, but I suppose in this case it doesn't really apply. It's not like a knowingly participated in this revenge plot...

It is beyond awkward now, we exchange more dialogue, but her words mean nothing. Thoughts like, "well he should've introduced her to us before," or "this is what he gets for not having a facebook," lingered. A defensive train of thought.

She told him she was at my place, just to fuel the fire. I don't get why she did my laundry or any other crap but I just accepted the idea that she is insane and I wanted her out.

"Get out." I repeat.
"Can you at least take me home?" She pleaded.
"It's Waikele, you'll be just fine."
"But what am I supposed to do?"
"Call your boyfriend back, and figure it out."

She gives me a concerned look but doesn't offer a rebuttal. She exits my car and as soon as my door closes, I drive off.

5 minutes later...

"Fuck, my knicks jersey."

title quote, Anberlin.

Click HERE to read the first part of this story if you haven't.

The pacific sun is starting to set and the sounds of the birds are finally subsiding. The cool Hawaiian breeze makes its way into my living room and nightfall becomes apparent... but the girl is still here.

My prior attempts to end this... situation, has failed and I decided to just accept her company. My thoughts moved from "get this bitch out" to "let's see how far this will go." Intrigue flooded my mind, absent now the thought of escape. I shut off the tv, having just finished a movie. The selection was a hard choice... I usually default to a comedy, but she wanted to watch the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. As if she needed inspiration on how to butcher me later.

We compromise... Zombieland.

We didn't talk much during the movie. But then again, I'm not used to spending this much time with a girl the day after. She pressed up against me as the movie started, and as if my mind did not control my body, I opened my arms and she leaned on me.

"Are you hungry yet?" She asks looking up at me and for the first time, at least to my recollection, I realize her magnetic brown eyes. Knowing that she probably heard my stomach grumble throughout the movie, I decide to just agree with her. "Perfect," she exclaims. I wish her enthusiasm would rub off on me. Meal selection was easier than picking a movie. We both love pho, so I knew exactly where to take her.

We never made it there.

As I go to my room to recover my wallet and her clothes, a new thought enters my head, "Am I starting to like this girl?"

I hear the sound of a cell phone ring and she quickly answers. She walks out to my lanai but I can still clearly hear her from my room...

"Hello?"
"No, I'm at a friend's house."
"Maybe later, I'm kinda busy right now."
"No baby, I can't tonight."
[Long Pause]
"Don't come here."
"I'll just call you later, bye."

"Fuck," I thought. "Dont come here?"
"How the hell would the person know where 'here' is?"

My friends would argue that I shouldn't give a damn if I'm the other guy, as long as I'm the one getting some. However, lots of complicated thoughts swirl in my brain as I slowly make my way back to her.

Find out how it all went down, click HERE
title quote, Anberlin

I woke up with a stranger's breath on my face. The smell of alcohol still rich. The taste of cigarettes lingering. Who is this girl? I think.

She wakes. She stirs loudly, grunting as she pulls herself up, making no effort to cover her naked body. She stumbles to my bathroom and to my surprise turns on my shower. She yells "I'm hungry," before she shuts the door. I lay confused, wondering if I knew this person, but I know I don't. Reluctant to leave a stranger at my home alone, I decide to make a simple breakfast. I don't make much effort to create a nice meal, but I think any effort is too much. As I place the plates on my counter, I hear my shower turn off. She opens the door and walks towards me, my towel wrapped around her. Not recognizing the person before me causes some concern, but her smile at the meager meal I've prepared lessens the anxiety. The dialogue we exchange is common. As she talks, I repeat exit strategies in my head overlapped with failed attempts to recall memories from the previous night.

Never mix soju and whisky, I don't even know what occasion would promote the mixture of such opposing beverages. However, the evidence of binging becomes irrefutable as I recover empty bottles scattered around my living space. She does nothing to help clean or recollect. My opinion of her is not improving.

To end the silence, I explain I have some errands to run. She doesn't get the hint. "I see you have a coffee maker for show, pick up some ground on the way back," she replies. "Is this girl serious?" I thought. "So what if I don't have coffee for its maker."

Driving away I make up errands in my head. I return some time later hoping nothing is missing, other than her. Entering my place, the smell of shin ramen infiltrates my nose. She greets me in my newly bought Jeremy Lin jersey, takes the coffee ground and makes use of the neglected machine. She instructs me to sit explaining my food is almost ready.

As if the unexpected meal wasn't enough, my place is tidy. My laundry running, bed made. "Who is this girl?" I ask myself again. I consider concealing a weapon for defense, movies like the American Psycho and Silence of the Lambs runs through my mind.

In an attempt to deter premature death, I ask her if she has any plans for today. But as the words left my lips I realized she might misunderstand my intention. Which, she did. "Nothing, what did you have in mind?" she enthusiastically responds.

"Fuck."

Click HERE for part 2
title quote, Anberlin