i met you at al’s tonight. we had a short interaction in which we joked about trying to figure out where we’d seen each other before. as we talked you kind of stood closer than necessary to me and through the collar of your shirt i could see a tattoo on your collarbone. i got a rush of blood to my face, among other areas. you shook my hand and left the bar and, presumably, my life.
why is this important? well, Boy I Will Never See Again, i’ve spent the last month or so venturing into the world known as “online dating,” which i think is code for “awkward interactions with booze.” i’ve gone on dates with three dudes, and found myself staring off into space, thinking about chubby nerds and about who will get voted off the voice this week. i drank too much out of boredom. i even pity-made out with a couple of them. i was about the accept this as my fate, believing that i should just settle for one of these dudes because i am not 22 anymore, and giddy love is a myth. but tonight, unbeknownst to you, our short exchange changed that for me. because i want that rush. i want to wonder whether a boy stood that close to me because he’s kinda drunk or because he thinks i’m pretty. i want to flirt with a guy without knowing what cds he would want if stranded on a desert island because i read it on his online profile.
emily thinks you will come in to the restaurant this weekend. i don’t. i think you did think i was pretty but i also think come tomorrow you will have forgotten about our interaction entirely. but, as much as i want to bone you, it doesn’t matter. i deleted my online dating profile and am going to wait it out. something real sounds cooler.

thank you.

love, xtina