Putting the Rust in Thrust
Perhaps I’d have a better chance of finding a new One and Only if I wasn’t constantly falling back on standard hook-up habits. Case in point? A highly embarrassing sleep over with a far too old science fiction enthusiast a week or so ago. My days and nights have been filled with boys as of late, although I’m still trying to find the right boys (i.e. attempting to move away from the sci-fi side of things). The local ladies and I have been frequenting a variety of pubs (our favorites being The Irish Emigrant and Finn McCool’s) but so far I’ve come up with no worthy winners.
One thing I’ve learned lately: choosing to not be “that girl” and retaining a little dignity are lonely, lonely practices. I may just have to toss this whole “new life choices for Drew” plan out the window and return to the Grand World of Sin with more enthusiasm than ever before. It might hinder the hunt for a long-term lovah, but hey, it’ll cut my drinking back by at least a mile.
Last night at a highly authentic high school house party (try saying that three times fast) I chatted with a lovely boy by the name of Connor. After hanging out with him I realized just how much working in wedding coordination has retrained my brain. Standing there, watching his lips move, I started rehearsing the following words in my head: “Drew and Connor request the honor of your presence as they celebrate their union as husband and wife”. Um, WHO AM I? What happened to having a drink with someone and seeing where it leads? What happened to movie theaters and backseats? What happened to Goodtime Drew? Connor seems great. The guy quoted Sylvia Plath and listened intently as I described my intense interest in historical non-fiction for christsakes. So why am I so quick to jump from a discussion of all things literary to wedded lust? Part of me realizes that not everyone between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five is married, engaged or in the best relationships of their young lives. However, another huge part of me has her commitment switch turned to the on position, all systems go.
I need to get back into the mind set where drinking PBR with pseudo-intellectual boys who still think their band is going to make it is an ideal example of heaven. Although “Drew O’Brien” would look perfect on letterhead.
