Disclaimer: While this story is true, all comparisons to any actual persons are merely coincidental. However, nothing is dramatized or exaggerated for entertainment purposes.
The start of the fall semester is something that everyone (well, almost everyone) looks forward to. Especially for those of us recovering from a brutal summer fling.
I won’t get into the details too much, but I met my Mr. Big last July, and with how Carrie Bradshaw’s wedding to the real Mr. Big turned out, you can guess how my summer ended. Subsequently, I went into the semester with a desire to party with my friends and find the only plausible solution to forgetting my boy problems: an immediate rebound.
They say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, and if you want to heed my advice, whoever said that was dead wrong. Don’t worry, I have a perfect story to explain why I think this, and it starts with our first boy of the fall semester, who we’ll call Imposter.
I was out at McMurphy’s with my roommates, dreaming of seeing the blonde hair and blue-green eyes I had gotten used to waking up to throughout August, when Imposter walked in. My roommate struck up a fight with him about politics, and when we made eye contact, it just clicked. He would be fine to start with. Or so I thought.
Imposter was tall, broad and loud; traits completely opposite to the guy I spent a total of nine hours crying over on move-in day. I overlooked our differences in values and ideologies because I never planned on seeing him again, but that brings me to my first mistake of the sexual year.
First tip: Never bank on the idea of hooking up with someone and never seeing them again. This town is not as big as you think.
Regardless, after a conversation that was far too short for the way we were about to become acquainted, I walked Imposter to my place with a skip in my step. It had been a week since I had kissed what felt like the love of my life for the last time with no promise of ever seeing him again, and I needed a distraction. It was just to my benefit that the distraction was over six feet tall and had pretty eyes.
Unfortunately, my joy on our journey home was cut short by him telling me all about his situationship, that he “was sure” hated him. As I fought the urge to roll my eyes and gave him some of the most basic advice known to man, I wondered how he’d talk about me later on.
Second tip: If a guy is talking to you about his problems with another girl, run the other way. Don’t overestimate him; he’ll do the exact same thing to you once he meets someone else.
If there was any indication that Imposter was going to be a weirdo, it was absolutely when he kept trying to push me into an exhibitionist streak, wanting to get down in almost every room in my house, even suggesting outside. Imposter was absolutely not deterred by the fact I had roommates or neighbors, and that should’ve been a much bigger red flag than I perceived it to be at the time.
I’ll spare you a lot of the gory stuff, but here’s some highlights that might deter you from making decisions like mine: He walked around my house in boxers while harassing my roommates, and he did, in fact, let them take a posed photo of him in said boxers.
He invited my roommate to come join us.
Worst of all, he told me he would tell his parents about how much fun he had with me. I wish I was joking.
I’m glad he had a lot of fun, because I can very easily say that I didn’t. I’ve never been one for a sleepover, so he got the boot a few hours in, approximately 20 minutes after he invited my roommate to “come on in.” My last tip for you this time can also probably sum up how much I enjoyed my night with Imposter.
Third tip: Height means nothing when it comes to proportionality in other places.
Layla Starling can be reached at [email protected] and [email protected]. Also my number is 678-999-8212, text me 😉
