who am i kidding

like i could really keep the rants down to 1x pr day.

so last week at the dentist, the technician noticed a crack in one of my teeth. sadly, i need a filling. i went to the receptionist and did the awkward time dance necessitated by the 1L year schedule: "i can do MTW 12-30 to 2:00, or 4:00 on, and also Th F after 1, except every other Th when I can only do it 1-3:30." yeah. i feel like a jackass. the receptionist was super nice and scheduled a 4:00 appt for today. she even wrote the time and date down on a nice little business card with appt scheduling space on the back.

i show up at 3:50, 10 mins early like i prefer, after dashing out of class to my car parked in the teacher's lot because of the timing issues of Boston traffic at 3:30. risking a ticket and spending 2 dollars in quarters, i arrive soaked and ready to go. i am then berated for being late because i had a 3:30 appointment and the dentist left. i receive judgey bitch eye from my favorite technician.

....not a big deal, except i am extremely punctual for professional type appointments. i hate when people waste my time and i try really hard not to waste theirs. i often show up a half hour early to appointments and interviews because i get so nervous about being late. in undergrad, in would routinely skip a class if i would be more than 10 mins late because i think it is inexcusably rude to saunter in at that late hour. if, for some reason, i would be that late, i would email the professor and army crawl in the back entrance, whispering "sorry, sorry," like it is my job.

naturally, i pull out my planner where the appointment card is paperclipped and show her that i am NOT late. she chirps "whoops," and then asks if I can do next tuesday at 2:30. so we go through the whole dance again, and i finally leave with a new appointment.

all in all, no harm done. except 45 mins of rush hour driving, 2 dollars on parking, endless irritations, soaking wet hair and sleeves, and a bitchface.


onwards.

So, I've taken quite the hiatus from writing. Mostly because I began law school, moved back home with my parents, ended and began 2 separate relationships, and have been generally disinterested in chronicling anything. I also deleted past posts and have decided to make this whole thing a wee bit more private/ambiguous. Obviously, if you know me, you know what's up.

So the rant of the day has to do with threesomes.

I am not exactly closeted and I do enjoy a good drink or seven. But recently I have been propositioned by two separate men with girlfriends in what can only be described as an entirely unwanted and offensive experience. One of these gentlemen was a guy I actually enjoy a lot, generally, and I know he meant no disrespect.

Listen, I am not a man-hating gay. I have two brothers, love my dad, love my dog, have a shit ton of bros that I totally adore, and regularly discuss sex tips and preferences re: females with random men I meet at bars. No shame, no game. If you want to know, out of curiosity and not condescension, how I "boned" that girl without a bone, I will probably tell you. If you want to know what the primary sex act is for lesbians, I will present my thesis with a full question and answer section. But I need to give you a heads up:

If you catch my staring at your girlfriend or glancing at her a few times, here is what is happening:
-I think she has a cute outfit on and am engaged in an inner battle about my ability to pull it off
-I am wondering if she's that girl who sits behind my in my Torts class
-I am disgusted by her bronzer
-I have something stuck in my contact and am looking 'round willy nilly
-She keeps sending me bitch face and I'm assessing the likelihood of me winning in a barfight
-I am mentally comparing my body/face/outfit/hair to hers
-I think she's super pretty and I'm jealous


Sad, but true. I really am that boring/shallow. I am not mentally fucking her.

THE EXCEPTIONS:
-We are at a gay bar. Then, sir, wtf are you doing bringing your girlfriend in these here parts? I don't want to fuck you both, just her please.
-She is gay. G-g-g-gay. Like, wearing flannel. Again, wtf are you doing dating such a closet case? I'll take her off your hands, if she's cute. If she ain't, I am just....stunned and confused. Staring like you two are the train wreck that you clearly are.

Look, I don't chase straight girls. I've "turned" a few in my day, but that is context based. The only "straight" girls I've ever messed with were gay girls who were in the closet. And they were hockey-playing, rugby-watching, sweatpant-wearing homos who grew up in W.VA or had pastors for parents that precluded them from flying the rainbow flag. I was not snatching them from your warm, masculine embrace.

The other exception is the gaggle of straight girls I've kissed in drunken gigglefests of my friends, where irony rules and no boyfriends are around. This either occurred between me and my bffs, while studying abroad in the CR, or while attending Smith College. So again, you were not involved whatsoever.

Alright? Great. Glad we cleared that shit up. No hard feelings.