Wanna Spoon...Huh Huh

I'm breaking from the 5 Steps of Graduation for a bit. Until then, here's something I've had hidden away for awhile.

Freshman year was the year of the dating pool. Since high school produced little--okay NO results in successful dating, my freshman year proved quite interesting. For some reason, this little Indiana girl started getting attention. The first week on campus, my college had a nice orientation week which allowed freshmen to commence their own exclusive orgies before the upperclassmen arrived. Welcome to your new home: here’s your class schedule and box of Lifestyles condoms.

So my first encounter with the college dating scene occurred the second day of orientation week. (What can I say, I was a late bloomer in high school. Let’s get things started right away here.) A few girls I was hanging out with that night ran into this group of guys. After about 20 minutes of poking fun of each other and discussing hometowns and other bullshit, the ladies and I retracted to stake claim on each of the guys. As we huddle together to discuss game plans, we were all in consensus that one of the guys, whom we’ll call Schwacky, was into me. Alright, cool. He’s sorta cute in that way when your brain screams, “Hey! We’ve had no lip action here for a few months. Could we work on that, please?”

We return to mindlessly gab with the guys for a while until Schwacky learns that I play guitar. Apparently girls with guitar skills are hard to resist…even if they suck, which I do. (Whatever. I still maintain that trumpet for electric guitar starter pack at a local music shop = best trade EVER.) Completely ignoring everything we had learned in the date rape session earlier that day during orientation, I decide to take a walk with Schwacky so I can school him on guitar. Again, my rape whistle was screaming for me not to go up to his room, but once again I ignored the shrill warning-- my ears were filled with power chords. This is also the same day I vowed to not live with a guy until he could meet my cleanliness standards or could give me multiple orgasms in one fantastic worshiping session. Wow. I learned that a male dormitory is a special place. I loved on his cheap Fender Squier for about 20 minutes before we decided to meet for lunch at another time.

Lunch rolls around a few days later, and we have some awkward casual conversation. I’m not entirely sure if I’m into this guy at the point. I snap a picture of him with my camera phone so I can gauge my hometown friends’ approvals since I was to return for the first time in a couple weeks. He walks me back to my dorm *which is up the hill far away from his which is down the hill*. We chat and flirt outside the door for about a half an hour. I just had a lot of juice at lunch and really had to pee. Now I know it’s not entirely attractive to just say “Okay, gotta pee. Later!” to end this date. So as he plays with my hand and stalls, I just say, “Yeah, I know you want to kiss me so come over here.” I make the move, he promises to call, and he leaves. Good, now I can pee. Sweet relief.

A few days later, I decide to bring my trusty [future] roommate along for the next lunch date we had. He had a friend, my roommate was single for the day—why not make things interesting. Besides, her opinion was important to me. I highly valued the opinion of a girl I’d known for approximately two weeks. So I’m still on the fence about Schwacky. No joke, we’re eating and continuing with strange conversation when I hear the lame attempt at humor: “Huh huh, wanna spoon?” as he holds up the spoon in his hand. Let me tell you this: It’s amazing how only a single phrase can evoke a very exaggerated scoff and make me want to permanently laminate my V card for storage in a well hidden safety deposit box. Oh no, this just isn’t going to work out for me…