"I'm not that kind of girl" I say, as the boy I just met that night tries to kiss me in a dark and crowded bar. I'm not the kind of girl to make out with a strange when I barely remember his name, in front of the whole world. I'm not that kind of girl.
Fast forward an hour and a few more jack and cokes later and there we are- in front of some random bar on some random street in DC. What next. Your house or mine. Together or separate. We call a truce- a few kisses are shared and into the cab we go.
We end up on the futon of a mutual friend; it seemed like a wise decision at the time. There is the requisite amount of fumbling and x leads to y, yet not all the way to z. I am not that kind of girl.
The chirping of birds wakes us way earlier than necessary. I learn that I don't really like sleeping next to someone that I barely know on a futon. He is sweaty and it's hot and I like my own space.
We walk awkwardly to the metro, getting a bit lost on the way as neither of us is in a familiar neighborhood. Sitting there, counting the stops until I am suppossed to change trains, wondering what to do or say next and wondering why exactly this seemed like a good idea to begin with.
"Bye. This was, uh, unexpected," I say, "I had fun."
Monday morning I remember that I know who he works for. I may not know his last name but I remembered his boss's. A quick search leads me to his last name which leads me to facebook. Yep, I stalked. I am
that kind of girl.
A few weeks later we pass in the hall, neither one wanting to acknowledge that we recognized each other. I'm not that kind of girl.
About a year later my office moves--- right down the hall from his office. You see, I remembered his boss's name. My biggest fear is now having to share an elevator.
Knowing looks are shared each time we pass each other. Aknowledging yet not, because you see, I am not that kind of girl.
This continues... now it has been almost two years. I wish I could just say hi, ask how he was doing, pretend to be super cool about what happened in that random bar on that random street.
But I can't, you see, because I'm not that kind of girl.
