For the most part, I try to keep my social life out of my blogs. This is because I have a lot of good friends, and I’d like to keep (most of) them. However, I have decided to implement a new Statute of Limitations. From now on, I will post funny stories from my social life as long as:
1. It’s been at least 12 calendar months since the event occurred.
2. The story is not hurtful in any way to anyone I know.
3. Unless it’s REALLY funny.
4. Then I’ll just change the names of all concerned.
So, on to my first story.
A few years ago I met this girl, let’s call her Maria, through a friend. Maria was attractive, very nice, and—aren’t they all—seemed to be “into me”. I liked her well enough, but for whatever reason was not really into her. So I rarely called her and mostly only saw her when we were partying in a group of mutual friends. I did, however, drunk-dial her occasionally, and those parties would sometimes end with us making out.
One night I was dropped off at a buddy’s apartment where my car was. I knew I was probably too buzzed to drive, plus I knew Maria lived in the same apartment complex. So I called her and told her I was coming over. She told me she’d prefer I didn’t, as her place was a mess. I basically said that I live in a mess, it didn’t matter, and regardless I was already outside her door.
She wasn’t happy.
Anyway, she let me in and we sat down on her couch. I’m pretty sure I was trying to act flirtatious and all, but she wasn’t having any of it. In my buzzed state, I grabbed a book that was sitting on the coffee table that she had obviously been reading.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Nothing you’d be interested in,” Maria said.
“Let me see about that,” I laughed.
I then opened the book to a completely random page somewhere in the middle, and read out loud:
“If a guy rarely ever picks up the phone to call you, and only visits late at night when he’s drunk, he’s just not that into you.”
My voice actually kind of trailed off during the last four of five words. I could feel my face turning red. I closed the book and looked at the cover. The title, as I’m sure you’ve probably guessed, was the best-selling book “He's Just Not That Into You: The No-Excuses Truth to Understanding Guys”. Needless to say, the rest of that visit was pretty damn uneventful. I went home.
It took me about a year to forgive Greg Behrendt.
