Awkward Times

Even though he lives 75 miles away, I knew I would see him again, at some point.   I thought it would be during the summer,  the by product of endless rounds of sweaty bbqs by people’s pools, the kind where you come home and have a sunburn and  potato chips stuck to the back of your knees.    In the brief moments I have devoted to thinking about it,  I hoped that I would be wearing makeup and had taken the time to blow dry my hair.   Needless to say, i would also be wearing something completely awesome.     Imagine my surprise, when  I walked in to a seemingly innocuous birthday party to have the fleeting impression that he was there.  I didn’t stop to look,  but I knew-it was Mr. Headcase, hereafter to be known as Douchebag D.    I should mention that this was hardly a party per se, so much as it was people sitting around drinking pims and wine on a patio-about 11 or 12.      I hardly know the etiquette of greeting someone you had sex with, who later defriended you from facebook.     Actually, I don’t know.   When I hugged Tina hello and wished her a happy birthday,  she apologized, telling me that his being there was a complete surprise.     I then got a drink.      I didn’t really expect to talk to him, nor did I want to  but then again, I didn’t expect him to completely ignore me either.     And readers, that is exactly what happened.     You may think it strange to  not only, not say hello, bu never actually make eye contact with someone who sitting eight feet directly across from you.     Did I mention that you also had sex with this person?      Oh yeah, I did.         But that is exactly what happened.

At first, I was talking to some physics students sort of to the si  de.    When I moved closer he suddenly started texting.  In fact, he was texting almost the entire time i was there.   Maybe he was updating his blog, or his facebook status.  I can only imagine what it must say. “Douchebag D is at a party!”  “Douchebag D is in Bobois, suckah!’   “Douchebag D is totally stressed out!”    “Douchebag D doesn’t know to say.”    “Douchebag D absolutely cannot look up!”    “Douchebag D is paralyzed by existensial estrangment!”   “Douchbag D is….”

I think the most awkward moment happened when Tina introduced me and my friend N, who I had brought to the party, to the four people he was sitting next to.       He said HI to N, but not to me.  Listen, I knew was a douchebag, but I thought I had reached the far ends of his douchebagocity.    I think I nodded or something.   Of course, I didn’t say hello.   Though I am not petty, there are limits to the circumstance in which I will take the high road.    Tonight just wasn’t one of those  nights.   I talked to other people,    it was one of those times when, if you were reading what I saying, like it was a bad novel,   it would say “she said brightly.”    For example:   “Oh you’re in physics, ” she said brightly,  “How long do you have left?”

But the weirdness didn’t end there.  At some point, we were all sitting around in a circle,    and everytime I said something, he would text again, or turn to the side.     Tina was sitting next to me and I was just giggling.   I felt bad for Tina.     And part of me, was really tempted to fuck with him by being super friendly.    But on the otherhand, I am not the crazy douchebag one.   He is.  So fuck him.     All I could think about was how the shirt he was wearing made him look like he has man boobs.     And how he lied to me.   And how weird and petty he is.   And disrespectufl, and  a small, pathetic human being, who has no largeness of spirit.  And anyway, it’s Tina’s birthday and her party.    I only wish K could have been there.       I refrained from everything, even from giving him that look of death I reserve for douchbags and students who make the mistake of throwing a spitwad in my classroom.

I think this is one of those clear circumstances in my life where I didn’t do anything wrong, but hook up with the wrong person, in fact, an asshole.      I guess I could understand his acting this way if I texted him hundreds of times or written him a poem or something.    I would get it.    Of course, I do wish  that he wasn’t a douchebag.   Until tonight, I can’t say that I hated him, which I still don’t. It’s hard to explain, other than I don’t care enough to hate him,   I just think he’s a bad person.    I think the right word would be contempt.   It’s weird having nothing but contempt for  someone you slept with and talked to.  In these circumstances, of course the worst scenerio is that you aren’t friends, but still manage some semblance of basic etiquette  and  observe nicities.    LIke you could go all Canadian and talk about the weather.   You could acknowledge each other.

Seriously, I can’t even believe this just happened. LIke it’s too weird to have happened, and yet it did.