The Big Prep

On Sunday:

• I had 3 huge loads of laundry all going at the same time. I'm talking the works: clothing, bathmats, towels, my fucking duvet cover, fresh linens.
• Swept
  
• Mopped (alright, alright Swiffer'd)
  
• Got on my hands and knees and scrubbed the shower.
• Made a run to the grocery store. Picked up some greek yogurt, a bag of salad, cereal, milk, eggs. I went with a few items I figured were pretty safe.
• Clipped and tossed the dead leaves on the last remaining house plants I've managed to barely keep alive.
• Tossed half of lemon into the garbage disposal to achieve the natural dope freshness
  
• Grabbed the piled of books on my nightstand and actually organized them on a bookshelf
  

I haven't had to prepare for a girl staying staying with me for an entire weekend in... well, over two years.

Holy piss that was ages ago. I almost forgot how to go through the motions.

It's certainly been awhile.

Closing the Bree Chapter

Sometimes I forget that this blog is not just about drunk stories or random ponderings as to why I seem to can't seem to understand women.

It's actually about the journey and the harsh lessons learned by this hideous, bitch goddess we most often refer to as "dating".

Learning shit is the backbone of this humble, lil blog. And I learned a valuable dating lesson I'd like to share.

Fuck yeah you did.

When I've been excited about the prospects of a girl, I'm not one to do so quietly. I'm that little hen who clucks all over the farm about it.

Of course, I'm nearsighted and I never think about having to explain to people what happened to the girl when things don't turn out as expected. Then I have to go through the humiliating process of explaining WHY things fell apart.

I can't tell you how many times I've had "So, what happened with Bree?" asked to me. Emails, friends... whew, it's been tiring. I guess I'll feed you, baby birds.

And as many times as I have had to answer that question, my answer is always the same (and kind of lackluster):

Nothing.

A phone call with Bree, shortly after meeting her in Santa Barbara, was one of the most refreshing, no-bullshit, honest conversations I've ever had the pleasure of being a part of.

I had wanted to know where I stood. However, before I get raged on by commenters, I'm no idiot. I wasn't wanting a relationship or trying to force a weird, ultimatum out of her... I simply wanted to feel out if we were on the same page. We had always been pretty upfront up to this point and Bree's straightforward approach was something I always admired.

Not to bore with intimate details, but basically she told me that she was happy with her life as it was, didn't want change. She's extremely driven and work is her #1 priority. She wanted to keep things casual.

And I was... actually fine with that! It was so nice to not have to play some tortuous guessing game and to just be up front. I got what I needed out of the conversation.

But really, what can you do after that point? Phone calls and IM conversations suddenly stopped being so frequent. Everything is fine and cordial, but once a conversation like that takes place... you have to be prepared for the pixie magic to kind of just... fizzle out. After all, where is it supposed to go?

Again, it's not like I was anxious to change my Facebook status to "In a Relationship" or anything. To be honest, I didn't even know what I wanted. But if there isn't a chance at all for anything to move forward... then you're really just sitting in murky tub water wallowing in your own filth.

This is the lesson I learned. Shit like this happens all the time in dating situations and it doesn't HAVE to always be some agonizing, terrible experience. It's like getting barbecue sauce all over your face while eating ribs: it's supposed to happen! If you aren't getting messy, you aren't doing it right.

I spend so much time cutting through the thick, dating jungle vines with a dull machete, trying to find that perfect (albeit cliche') combination of the smart, cute, funny girl... that I lose sight of the fact that once I find that girl, there's still one large hurdle to cross: she has to be into me too.

That's what dating is. Trying to find someone that links up to you like two L block Tetris pieces. Sometimes you come close to a perfect Tetris, but sometimes you're going to get that at-first-glance-seems-ideal-but-ultimately-fits-awkwardly Cross shape.

It's just the way it is.

Playing Mouse Trap with Monopoly Money

** Please note: This post was written quite awhile ago. This story sets the stage for things to come and will make much more sense later on down the line.

February 2nd, 2009

I write this post extremely confused what to think. So let me lay it out on the line and I'll let you be the judge. Maybe the answers will be clearer in the future. This post is an experiment with time travel to the ordinary blogger.

Things with Bree have been going pretty well (at least I think so. Oh fuck, excuse me for a second while I furiously knock on some wood). It's been a nice balance; I've texted her just as much as she's texted me. I call her when I feel like calling her and I think she's comfortable in calling me when she's comfortable calling me.

But a conversation last night took a bit of the wind out of my sails.

Bree had given me a call just as I was nodding off reading A Prayer for Owen Meany.

The conversation was running its usual coarse, until she dropped anchor out of nowhere:

"Oh, by the way, on Friday I kissed a guy. It wasn't a big deal, but I just thought you should know."

At this point, I was caught completely off guard and not sure what to think. But I felt my cheeks redden and reach temperatures that would rival a potter's kiln.

So I did what I normally do when I get extremely uncomfortable and nervous; I used humor to mask my pain. I was quick to make a joke out of it, "... you've been worrying about losing your touch and here you are making out with 23 year olds!" I kept it light and even threw in a sly compliment.

She was apologetic (I think legitimately) and I could feel the slight discomfort coming from her end of the phone line. I reassured her that she didn't owe me any explanation or any apology, because really... she didn't.

After all, I wasn't sure what else to say! What could I say??

The conversation switched gears; I asked her about hotel suggestions of where I should stay when I meet her in Santa Barbara. But I just couldn't keep up the charade, I was now starting to sweat and needed to get off the phone.

So@24: Hey, it's already 1 in the morning, I'm pretty tired. We'll talk tomorrow?
Bree: Oh. Yeah. Of course. Goodnight.
So@24: Goodnight.

About 10 minutes later, while I'm tossing and turning to try and go to sleep, my cellphone beeped. A text.

Bree: Hey, I feel weird about that call. I'm sorry if that upset or bugged you. I would sort of be bugged if roles were reversed. Sorry for being such a weirdo.

Still unsure of how to take in all the information, I decided not to respond right away and tried focus on getting some shut eye.

I woke up at 6:00am, having that terrible feeling you get when you groggily discover that you JUST found sleep. I texted her back the following:

So@24: I'm not going to lie, it rattled me a bit. But like I said, you don't owe me any explanation. I appreciate the sentiment though.

Within a few seconds, I was surprised to get a text back:

Bree: Crap. I'm sorry. I just wanted to be honest and it came off so casually because it was weird and I didn't know what else to say.

* * *

On paper, technically Bree did nothing wrong. She's absolutely in the clear. She's an attractive girl in her 20s who is allowed to enjoy alcoholic beverages in large doses if she chooses. And yes, she can make out with dudes if that's what she wants to do.

And yet, I just felt... funny. Humiliated. I'm not exactly sure why and I know that it's not justified. I know I wasn't justified by being weirded out by the whole situation. I haven't even met the girl face to face yet. I don't have any reason to be rattled.

But I guess I also have to recognize that I'm also flesh and blood. And human beings don't always operate on technicalities. Especially when it comes to dating. Lesson learned, So.

Maybe it's because I was hit with the idea that Bree might not really be on the same level as I am. Who wants to hear that a girl you're interested in is making out with other dudes? I finally got what Rivers was singing about when he wrote "No One Else"

I just don't want to be stuck holding a stack of Monopoly money when I've actually been playing a game of Mouse Trap the entire time. Know what I mean? We'll see if this is just a foreshadowing of things to come...

How Dora the Explorer Will Save Future Generations of Short Guys & Other Random Thoughts

I bring you...

My first bullet point entry.

* I was in New York last week and I haven't been in 10 years. For some reason, I fell in love with every girl there. Maybe it's the girls and their liberal usage of the scarf to protect themselves against the harsh New York weather. The cute, little waitresses, the girls thumbing through books in coffee shops... I dunno, it drove me crazy. Maybe it's a "grass is greener on the other side" kind of phenomenon. But New York? I love you.

* I decided that if I were to ever get to the point in my life where I need to come up with an elaborate lie to get the attention of a complete stranger, I concocted the greatest story:

Cute Girl: So what do you do for a living?
So@24: Oh, I'm a junior executive at Sephora. It kind of fell into my lap right out of college, but it's a great gig. Maybe you've heard of us?

How perfect is that? Because we all know that girlies love chapstick. It's a universal fact.

* There's been some controversy over Dora the Explorer growing up. I'm not sure what the big deal is, but angry blogging mommies are up in digital arms over it. If you don't know who Dora the Explorer is, you've obviously been living in a outer space. In a cave. With a blindfold on. And giant headphones.

Please view exhibit A:

Go forth and do good.

I, for one, embrace this change.

These angry parents are missing the point completely. Dora will actually be doing an enormous favor for future generations of short guys (such as myself). I have been waiting for the day (perhaps ignorantly) when stilettos will go the way of the buffalo (I made all my prom dates wear flats; thanks for being such a champ, Lynn). Waiting for heels to go out of style.

Dora sporting the fashionable round-toed, FLATS is going to show future generations of females:

"Hey kids, you don't need to wear footwear that's extremely uncomfortable and makes you tower over your dates just to be hip & cool! Because your hero Dora doesn't either!"

Maybe this bubonic plague of the eternally short guy will finally have the vaccine we've been waiting for. Dora the Explorer. In flats. Not heels.

So to all the future short guys out there, this is a big win for the lil guy!

Why Girls Remain The Most Mysterious Creatures of All Time

I just returned home from a particularly long day from the rat races when I received a good phone call from a female friend of mine.

As I was whisking eggs in a bowl to prepare my omelet din din, I held my cellphone between my ear and shoulder while she was telling me a story about a "cute boy" she had met. Earlier this evening, he had asked for her phone number and she had given it to him. She was interested in him.

Now, this isn't anything groundbreaking. Girls meet cute boys and if they seem harmless enough, the average girl will most likely give them their phone number to perhaps set up a time to later meet up to get to know each other better. This is one of the socially acceptable means in which we begin our mating dance, courtship rituals, etc.

I listened to her story and starting to add my diced mushrooms when she dropped a bomb on me. I dropped my spatula.

Before going further, I need to emphasize that my female friend is quite the fucking catch. Pretty (I would say "cute", but I've learned how well THAT goes over...), smart, and most importantly, hilarious. And I would like to ask my commenters to please be CIVIL when commenting on what I am about to reveal. She is a friend of mine and I know how harsh some of you can be when it comes to the decisions some people make. Such as what I am going to explain.

Bless her soul, she knows not what she does.

My Friend: You aren't going to believe it, but when I gave him my number and he started to put it in his cellphone...
So@24: Yes... yes?
My Friend: I caught a glimpse of his cellphone background and it was one of those wallpapers you can purchase...
So@24: What was it?
My Friend: ... a woman in a gold bikini.
So@24: ...
My Friend: When I asked about it, he got really embarrassed, tried to cover it and said, "People never really look at my cellphone"

...

...

...

I'm going to type that out again because it bears repeating.

The guy who she gave her number to and would like to see again, has his cellphone wallpaper as a woman in a gold bikini.

We caught up? Alright.

My mouth swung open like a trap door and I let my spatula drop to the counter. I didn't care if I could smell my eggs burning. What the fuck...

Maybe I'm jumping the fucking gun a little bit. Maybe I'm not giving her White Knight the benefit of the doubt. There has to be an explanation for this. How could this possibly be acceptable? I can really only fathom three reasons for this behavior:

"Oh shit. Yeah about the picture of the woman in a gold bikini set as my wallpaper on my phone? I was visiting a sick child at the hospital who lost all her hair due to chemo treatments and she told me her 'Make a Wish' would be that I purchase a wallpaper on my cellphone to a woman in a bikini."

or

"When I was rescuing a batch of Boston Terrier puppies from a burning building, my baby niece got a hold of my cellphone and must have accidentally pressed a series of buttons on my phone causing me to inadvertently purchase this picture of a woman in a bikini. Then she mashed some more buttons with her tiny knuckles and made it my background picture. I haven't had a chance to change it back yet because I've been volunteering at a local hospital's burn victim's unit"

or

"I'm 14."

However, I don't think this is why this particular dream boat did this. Because he didn't even try to lie about it. He said, "People don't usually see my cellphone" and tried to hide his cellphone like a hooker in a hollowed out bed spring.

Please. I'm begging the blogging community... why, why, why do quality girls do this? Apparently my friend didn't thoroughly read my entry on "Not Settling".

So@24: Are you serious?? And you still plan on seeing this guy? Why!?
My Friend: I'm not in the position to be turning guys away.

My omelet was now ruined. The smoke alarm was beeping incessantly. But instead of finding a fire extinguisher or dialing 9-1-1, I was imagining ways to throttle her with my frying pan.

I swear, I encounter this shit all the time. It's the biggest injustice in the world. Is this something that everyone eventually grows out of? Do the girls who hold the elusive tri-fecta having the qualities of being physically attractive, witty as hell, and smart as a whip have no idea that they possess this rare plutonium? It fucking baffles me. One of the greatest injustices of the world that guys with cellphone wallpapers of girls in gold bikinis are dating girls like this.

Not too long ago, I had a conversation with my exgirlfriend Lynn about this. I told her, that as someone who spent 6 intimate years with her, that I should at least have a say in the next guy she dates.

1. Don't settle.
2. He's gotta make you laugh.
3. He's gotta appreciate your humor and laugh with you.

I don't think that's too much to ask. And really, most girls should heed my advice. My criteria for my exgirlfriend's next boyfriend should be the same to every girl who possesses the ingredients of the perfect partner.

Let the douchebags dudes date the douchbag girls. Checks and balances, people.

Alas, this is why girls remain the most mysterious creatures of all time.

... to Don Quixote. Pt. 2 of 2

A la' Billy Crystal in "When Harry Met Sally":

Please to repeat.

"I will read 'From Don Juan Pt. 1' before reading further"

Trust me, you'll be doing yourself a huge disservice by reading ahead without backstory.

We all set? Good. Let's continue.

* * *

Last Friday, I was in my cube busting out some serious Outlook shit when I got a text message from my friend May.

I didn't particularly like a lot of Lynn's friends in high school. But one that stood out was May. She's very blunt, sarcastic, crass and has the mouth of a sailor. She's good people to have around.

I still stay in contact with May and occasionally, she'll give me a call or text me to let me know she's in LA and meet up.

May's Text: Sorry this is last minute, but I'm in Pasadena. Do you want to meet up for a drink?
So@24's Text: Of course! Text me when you head to the bar.

I hadn't seen May for awhile, so I was excited for the reunion. I called up two of my buddies, Dave and Geoff to join me for drinks at my place before heading out.

Around 9:00, I get a text from May, "On my way! I should be there in 5!"

I wasn't in a rush. Dave and Geoff were still finishing their beers and it was still early. I didn't usher every one out of the door and into car until around 9:30.

On the road, I get a text from May, "Hey where are you??"

May is the type to get a little sassy at times and we have a playful banter so I shoot her one back, "Chill the fuck out, we're on our way!"

By the time we park, it's about 9:45. Dave, Geoff, and I head toward the bar. May calls me as we're walking up to the bar.

May: You here?
So@24: Yep, walking up now. Wait, you didn't pick a bar with cover did you? I never carry cash on me.
May: Uh... no. You should be fine.
So@24: Whew! See you in a bit!

As we step into the bar, I give a quick scan for May.

Nothing.

Must be in the bathroom.

Suddenly a girl stands up and addresses me, "So@24?"

So@24's Inner Monologue: Why does this girl look so familiar? Must be one of May and Lynn's friends that I met once and don't remember... better play it cool until I can place her.

So@24: Hey... you! Are we missing someone?
Girl: No...

It was at that very second that this happened...

Quick Idea of What's Going On in So@24's Brain in Approx .00456 Seconds

This was the Match.com girl who had emailed me earlier in the week asking me for drinks.

Her name also happened to be May. I just hastily put her in my phone and forgot about her.

Oh fuck.

My high school friend May was not in town. She did not text me.

Oh fuck.

This is technically a "date".

Oh fuck.

I'm wearing ratty jeans, a dirty tshirt and haven't shaved for two days.

Oh fuck.

I'm 45 mins late.

Oh fuck.

I texted this girl, "Chill the fuck out" when she asked where I was.

Oh fuck.

I just came off looking like a complete cheapskate by bitching about paying cover.

Oh fuck.

I brought two of my friends with me.

Analysis: I am a complete and total moron.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Quick decision! Damage Control! It was like red alert in my brain. The submarine was hit and was flooding quick. Tons of sailors were scrambling to keep their balance and shut all the valves. The sub was going down.

So@24: Hey! Nice to meet you. Let me grab you a drink! What are you drinking there?
May: Just a beer.
So@24: Alright, I'll be right back.

I grabbed a confused Dave and Geoff by the collar and dragged them with me to the far corner of the bar. I gave them a 20 second explanation of what's going on. They laughed hysterically.

I tossed Geoff the keys. "Sorry buddy, you're driving tonight. Bartender? A pitcher of Bud Light and a shot of Jack please."

* * *

Epilogue

The rest of the night actually wasn't so bad. She didn't seem pissed or annoyed with my jackassary (I kept checking with Dave to make sure that she seemed fine). I bought all her drinks for her and I never caught any sign that she caught on that I was completely oblivious. She didn't show any signs of being phased by the unusual situation. We hung out until closing time, but the banter was what I had expected... beige. -shruggy-

I felt terrible! Augh! I went into this situation hoping that I could show this girl a good time and that not all online dating sites have guys who are complete tools.

And I came out looking like a total dick. Complete, complete failure. Not that I was remotely interested in her to begin with, but still...

How was I supposed to explain my mistake to her? "Oh sorry, you weren't important enough to remember your name." I panicked! I didn't know what to do.

Ugh. Maybe I should give her a call?

If there was any doubt how clueless I am... I think this settles the score, wouldn't you say?

From Don Juan... Pt. 1 of 2

This one is a doozy.

A fucking doozy.

As you may recall, a while back Match.com offered me a free trial period if I would blog about my experiences. It was an epic failure and after I got eServed, I stopped going on the account completely. It wasn't until about two months ago when I noticed I was getting charged.

I logged back onto my account to sort those fuckers out, when I noticed I had an email from a girl.

Well, shit. It had been sitting in there, unopened for quite some time and I felt obligated to respond. After all, I had bitch n' moaned about girls never writing me back, so I wanted to do this for her.

I'm just going to come right out and say that she wasn't my cup of tea in both physical and personality departments. She was just kind of... vanilla. Plain Jane, nothing to write home about (I'm a dick. But an anonymous dick, so it's all good). Her interests included music, her favorite movie was The Notebook, and she loved reading US Weekly. It wasn't ever meant to be.

But she was nice enough to take the time and reach out to me so I wrote her back.

It was a delicate situation and I think I did a pretty good job of executing the whole, "Being courteous and polite, but not doing anything that might show her I'm at all interested." I kept my answers short, I never asked more about her.

And then I dusted my hands after I clicked "Send" thinking that would be the end of it. She'd walk away with a good feeling that a guy responded and I walk away feeling like Johnny fucking Appleseed, spreading good deeds everywhere.

This would not be the case.

She wrote me back an email. I waited for like 3 or 4 days before responding, thinking this might help give that friendly nudge that I wasn't that interested. Again, I wasn't a dick or anything, I just was very to the point and not inquisitive; very blah.

It wasn't until the next email she wrote me when things started to get a little... sticky. She ended her email with, "Well, I don't normally do this, but would you like to get drinks sometime?"

Well fuck.

I had to say "yes" at this point. Why? Because I ALSO complain about how girls don't take initiative and depend solely on guys to get the ball rolling. I didn't want to politely decline, only for the girl to chalk it up to me being freaked out that a girl asked me out and then to have her never ask a guy out again.

Drinks. Casual. Not that big of a deal. I can do this.

So I agree, but again, I make sure I'm not enthusiastic in my response. "Yeah sure. Text me or something next time you're out".

She gave me her number, I hastily threw it in my phone and went back to playing Mega Man 9 on the Wii.


...


To Be Continued.

To the Girlies I Might Have Lead On...

... sorry about that.

Now I've never claimed to be extremely knowledgeable in the ways of the mysterious fairer sex also known as "the female". For proof of this, please read this entire blog. But I thought I was pretty well prepared when I was oh so young and oh so naive.

Yes, I even read "Are You There God, It's Me Margaret" in grade school hoping that this would be the key to get a step up on my competitors. I'm not kidding. I actually did that for the sole purpose of getting ladies.

They call that "foreshadowing" of a complete tool.

I digress.

While I might still be clueless now, I was a fucking lobotomized patient back in college. This realization only came to me a few days ago when I got a text message from an old friend of mine in college wishing me a happy birthday.

For a brief amount of time, Mia and I were pretty close, but out of nowhere (or so I thought) she stopped calling. Mind you, this was in college, when I was still very much with my ex girlfriend Lynn.

Mia used to call me up on any given weeknight and see if I was going to the bars. I'd usually meet her in the median and walk with her. Occasionally, we'd come back after a frat party and bust out some amazing, drunken Weezer ballads. One time, she called me in the middle of the night asked if I wanted to sit on the steps of her sorority and eat Bagel Bites with her. And I did.

And then one day she stopped calling me. Just out of nowhere. It really bummed me out at the time and it left me scratching my head. What had happened?

It would take me years to figure out why. Mia's text forced me to think back and analyze the situation. I had to experience years of being single and misreading signals in order to finally understand; like a fucking vision quest.

Mia was one, in a string of girls, that suddenly stopped talking to me once they found out I had a girlfriend. I had totally (unintentionally) lead them on!

In my defense, I didn't know better. I was so completely oblivious, especially because I was legitimately (yes, legitimately) friends with so many girls in college. And I still, to this day, believe that guys and girls can be just friends.

But thinking back on other girls besides Mia, I had left a trail. There was one girl who used to always sit next to me in lecture and expressed interest in coming over to hang out. When she did, she brought a six pack of Killian's and I didn't think twice about it! When she asked what I was up to one weekend and I told her that Lynn was coming to Seattle, I never heard from her again. I always assumed that she just lost interest in being friends, because SHE got a boyfriend or something.

This happened a few times, but I think two examples are enough.

Same thing with Mia. When I told her a story about Lynn, shortly thereafter I stopped getting calls to join her at the bar.

I never put two and two together, even after all of those times. What did I tell ya? When it comes to females, I'm a donkey laying under an apple tree listening to "Turkey in the Straw" on a broken victrola.

* * *

I'm not sure exactly why it has taken me years to finally come to this obvious conclusion. I was always sad as hell that I lost friends and never knew exactly why.

I wonder if you have to be single and go through the experiences yourself before you can come to appreciate these conundrums in the past? To get the questions answered that left you baffled before you gained perspective.

So.

To all those girls who I might have lead on, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to.

I just didn't know better. It just took having it done to me to figure it out.

A Cinderella Story (with booze)

A couple weeks ago, Leo and I were discussing what we were going to do to celebrate my turning twenty six. Naturally, I had assumed that he would fly into Los Angeles and we'd spend the weekend hitting up our old haunts.

Leo: Hey, here's a nutty idea... what if we went to San Francisco?
So@24: Well then. That is a nutty idea. Fuck it, let's do it.

So that was it. We were heading to San Francisco. Leo and I emailed a few other friends and everyone hopped on that party train (unfortunately, Jack couldn't make it. He said it was work but I'll put my money on he still recovering from Santa Barbara).

I was looking forward to a weekend away from Los Angeles and reuniting with old friends. And of course, there was the possibility of hanging out with Bree again. Since our first encounter, I wasn't sure when I'd see her next.

Over the next week, the boys and I started finalizing San Francisco plans -- dinners, bars, bbqs, Frisbee golf, more bars... you know, a packed weekend. When I told Bree I'd be in town , she seemed enthusiastic. Unfortunately, she could only come out for Friday night, she would be out of town the rest of the weekend. My timing wasn't the greatest; figures.

Within an hour of landing in San Francisco, I was well on my way to checking off "throwing back lots of booze with old friends" on my list of things to do. I was texting back and forth with Bree, trying to find a location to join both her group and mine.

It was already close to 10:00pm at this point (you know what it's like to mobilize troops) and I was getting more worried that my time with Bree was going to be extremely truncated. Also, as it came closer to catch a cab, my nerves grew and in turn, so did the shots of scotch. Leo would have probably stepped in to make sure I wasn't getting too drunk, but this was his vacation too. No rest for the wicked.

The group piled into cabs and we were dropped off at a bar that was located in a side alley of San Francisco; pretty cool. There was a good crowd forming and the jukebox was pumping out the hits. I stood in a circle with my friends, but I admittedly was torn between conversation and looking over their shoulders at the doorway, keeping an eye out for Bree. Leo gave me a pat on the shoulder and we took a tequila shot.

I went to the bar to order a round for the boys and when I turned, Bree was standing right behind me. She flashed her signature dimpled smile and I, in turn, grinned like a fucking goon. I quickly introduced her to all of my friends, but noticed that none of her friends made it out. Bree had come to meet up with us solo. Ballsy.

After introductions were made, I pulled her to the bar so I could order her a drink. I think she did her fair share of prefunking as well and we were both tossed at that point. While we were waiting for the bartender to catch our attention, she gave me that headtilt that girls do that I absolutely love.

You know what I'm talking about? It's just a slight tilt of the head and a coy smile. That shit can stop a man in dead in his tracks, I swear to God.

It was then I went in for a kiss and it was reciprocated. No nerves, no second guessing. I didn't overthink it. And it was good.

I've written before how I hate when a guy and a girl kiss in public settings. It grosses me out. But I was 100% fucking guilty of this on Friday night. However, if I have any room to make a plea to the court, it wasn't that disgusting, humping on the dance floor kiss you see all the time. I'm talking like the "hold her face with two hands, put her hair behind her ears" kind of kiss. The good shit. The kind that's so goddamn sweet, those who were fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of it might now have diabetes.

Again, I'm not usually the type to do these acts in public arenas, but I remember thinking to myself, "I just don't care." I didn't know when I'd get the chance to do this again and my time with Bree was limited. I was fine with being "that guy".

I stuffed a couple of wrinkled bills in the jukebox, we both decided that MJ's "The Way You Make Me Feel" was the best song to play at that point (that's a fucking winner, ladies & gentlemen), and we danced.

After seemed like only a few minutes, Bree said that she needed to head home. I walked her to a cab and offered to see that she made it back safely. She insisted I stay so I closed the door, wished her a safe trip and wave "goodbye".

And with that, she was gone. Like fucking Cinderella and that cab was the fucking pumpkin carriage.

All in all, it was a great weekend. Had a great time hanging out with Leo and the rest of the guys, and it was a welcome escape from the tedium of LA. And seeing Bree was nice. All too brief, but such is life.