Desperate = Sexy? Um, nope.

Thursday's always a good day. No classes on Thursday. That's good. Know what else is good? Eating two full dinners back to back at different restaurants. And also volleyball. And a Diamondback interview. Things could be worse.

It's a beautiful night to end a beautiful day for the first time in many weeks. I spent it inside though, oddly enough. I was planning on going out and doing what I do, but last night was odd, and made me never want to go to a sorority dated party as the date of one of my little sister's friends ever again. ...not that I would have been doing that tonight, but ... it put me down for at least a night.

I go there, with a very cute young lady, but we're hanging with separate people. My little sister tells me about 40 minutes into the night that a different young lady, by the (changed) name of "Larissa is going to ask you to dance. Just so you know." No response from me but "okay" because it's no big deal, right. Oh, how wrong I was.

Larissa finds me, says (as fast you as you can imagine being able to utter something intelligibly, so fast I couldn't get a word in edgewise) "Hey, Matt, you look bored. You want to go get a drink and then dance? Okay let's go. Are you okay? What's wrong, something bothering you? Are you all right? What's up? Areyouhavingagoodtime? Issomethingwrong? Tellmewhat'supwhat'supwhat'supDoyounotwanttodance?What'swrong?" To which I was finally able to respond, "Nothing's wrong, I just have no time to respond."

This sort of conversation continued at the bar over what to drink, "You want a Kamikaze, Red-headed Slut, ItalianSurfer,Blowjobshot,Butterynipple? ..." You get the picture.

We finally get to the dance floor and we're dancing within each other's vicinities for a few minutes, and then she says to me. "Okay, I'm going to dance with you now. Are you ready?" And she like takes my hand like we're about to go sky-diving or something, like my life's about to be at risk. Let me say, the contact offered me no comfort. I interject, "Haven't we already been dancing together?" She says nothing but instead turns around and shoves her ass into my crotch. I almost dropped my beer. This Larissa girl meant business. I had no idea what was going on, but I can tell you my associated feelings. Weird. Awkward. Mildly Aroused. Actually, I wish I could say I was mildly aroused. More like mildly intrigued at this young woman's warped sense of what a guy wants.

So, amidst my confused mindstate wondering if I should alter the gyrating of my pelvic zone to be in some sort of synchronous motion-pattern with her pelvic zone, she just up and walks away. My mindstate reset itself, now focused on a more "what the eff just happened" process. So I ask Kevin, "Kevin, what the eff just happened?"
"I don't know, dude, that was weird"
So I stayed in my little dance spot for a while, still confused, and still gyrating, but on my own terms.

About 10 minutes later, I see my date across the bar and begin to walk towards her. I am intercepted by Larissa who is barking. At least it sounded like barking. Not like a dog barking, but like a drill Sgt barking orders at his mini-cadets. "Why did you walk away from me?" SHE says. Not me, I repeat. She barked it. "Why did you walk away from me?"
"Larissa, I didn't walk away from you."
"Yes, you did. Why would you do that?"
"That's not how I remember it. This is so stupid. You walked away from me."
"No, I didn't. I obviously have a crush on you, so why would I do that?"

All of a sudden the DJ halted the music he was playing on the LP which made a really perfect stop-short record scratch sound. At least, if it were a prime-time teen soap opera on the WB (which is what it felt like), that's what would have happened. I started creeping away slowly as if she were looking in the other direction and I was being quiet and sneaky and successfully sneaking away unscathed, but she was looking right at me. So she says "Fine, walk away now then"
"Okay" And the sneaking continued, but with an added hand gesture. ...Not the finger, you jerk, I'm not that mean. The peace sign. And my eyes were wide like I was saying "You should seek help." And I returned again to my original spot of dance and gyration, never having made it to my date.

Then I see my date walking towards the bathroom. Oh, wow, that girl she's with is crying. Is that? Oh, my, good, lord. Larissa was CRYING. I spent the rest of the night talking to a very lovely 26yr old Princeton grad/Columbia med student. That was of course after being ordered to dance again with Larissa by my date. That should have been obvious though, right? A given.

The moral of the story? Go to the bar with freshmen girls, because you'll meet cool, smart, successful women in their mid-twenties when you're avoiding all the drama you caused.