This morning I realized that I’ve regressed back to my college days.
After forcing my half-dressed self out of bed at 7:45 a.m., I consumed about half the medicine cabinet then tried to piece together what happened last night while I headed to volleyball.
On a side note, I’ve yet to go to volleyball without a hangover.
Here’s what happened:
I had plans to meet a doctor for drinks Friday evening. My roommate decided he should be called Grey’s Anatomy for obvious reasons.
Meanwhile I was also chatting with a guy who is in sports management for the local minor league baseball team.
We didn’t have concrete plans to meet so I focused on my doctor date.
He chose a restaurant on the water with a great view. He was handsome though quite full of himself. He was no McDreamy so I’m not sure his ego was justified.
We talked for two hours — well he did most of the talking — . Out of nowhere he asked for the check. He walked me to the car, gave me a hug and said he would “text” me.
And I was home by 9 p.m.
So what’s a girl to do when she actually has eyeliner, tight jeans and a bra on? We if it’s 9 p.m. on a Friday, she goes out with guy No. 2 .
Let’s call him baseball.
Here’s where it gets messy. I couldn’t drive because I was drinking my “home by 9 p.m.” sorrows with my roommate.
And it was my roommate’s bright idea to invite baseball to our place.
Flash forward 30 minutes, baseball is here and I’m another glass of Merlot down.
The two of them proceeded to talk baseball while I sat in a corner and drank.
Finally, roommate went to his room so baseball and I could chat. This was our first face-to-face meeting after all.
We were both a few drinks in so talking quickly turned to making out.
And eh, why not? I’m young and single. Why not make out with an almost complete stranger in my living room.
Then he stayed the night.
I warned you guys.
I’m officially back in college. And I have the messy house and empty bank account to prove it.
So baseball. We didn’t have sex (surprisingly). But there was a lot of kissing and touching then he left at 6 a.m. to go ref youth soccer.
It’s now Saturday. I’m curing my hangover and trying to figure out when on earth I became this person.
A year ago I was at home with my husband, in bed by 10. Now I spend my days frolicking on the beach and coming up with clever names for all the men in my phone. And by all I mean two. Doctor and baseball.
What do you guys think? My guess is I will never hear from Grey’s Anatomy. Which is OK, you can only listen to someone talk about themselves for so long.
And my other guess is baseball and I will be able to salvage nothing out of our slutty first meeting. Which we both agreed was not our best decision or first impression. He said “he just really wanted to meet me.”
When did I become a player.