We’ve all been in that haze of delusion where we mistake great sex, a great smile and a few great drunken conversations as a boy being into us. Coming to terms with the fact that in between hiccuping drunk calls and buying that romper for his formal in 3 months, he was never really interested. He’s filed you away as Friendzoned-Karen-Has-Hot-Friends-Though, Friends-With-Benefits-Bad-Laugh-But-Great-In-Bed-Karen or Avoid-At-All-Costs-Untagging-Myself-From-Your-Pics-Karen.
However, contrary to popular belief, girls aren’t obsessive psychos who can’t pick up on hints. Well, most of us aren’t.
Night One: “So I Met This Guy…”
Girl meets boy. Boy is chivalrous and buys girl drink. Girl likes boy. Boy gets girl’s number. Girl squeals about boy the whole stumble home with her friends. Girl dreams of dancing sugarplums and all the cute future Instas she’ll take with boy.
Day Two: “When The Hell Is He Going To Text Me?!”
“What is the point of asking for my number if you’re not going to use it!!!” you’ll bitch to your friends. Your friends will get bored of trying to convince you that he’s going to text you and assure you that it’s a new era and that you can text him. What’s the point of feminism if you’re still being a little bitch about texting first?
The Next Weekend: “Wait, He Texted Me!”
After exchanging a few hahas with you and agreeing to hang out sometime (okay, well he said “Yeah for sure! Sometime soon” when you asked if he wanted to do dinner), he fell off the face of the Earth. You consoled yourself with how busy he must be during syllabus week and how he’s probably like hazing or something on top of it. But just when you’re tired of sighing when Annoying Boy From Same Fraternity But Not Boy That You Plan On Making Love To appears on your phone, his name appears in all its glory. It’ll seem as if it was a mass text he sent to all the girls in hot sororities in his contacts, but you’ll read his “hey huge band party tn. u should put it in your pledge class GroupMe” as him nonchalantly trying to see you. You hurry off to shave your legs and don’t bother putting his message that was clearly for you in the GroupMe.
That Sunday: “Weird, He Didn’t Even Try To Take Me Home?”
At brunch, you click through his Snapchat story aggressively. You barely hear Jen bitch about how John keeps calling her after midnight and one of these days she’s gonna stop answering. You’re too busy trying to remember if he walked away from you Friday night to actually find Natty Light or Natalie from your sorority.
One Day in Broad Daylight: The Inevitable Sober Run-In
Fuck. I knew I should’ve worn eyeliner today. Fuck, fuck, fuck I’d much rather see Casper the friendly ghost, but no that’s definitely Chad, the flirty ghost. Don’t act awkward. Okay so he blew you off last weekend and it wasn’t Natty Light or Natalie he went home with, but instead that annoying bitch from your rival sorority. Maybe he just couldn’t find me at the end of the night? Or maybe he respects me too much to just take me home! Fix your hair before he walks over, you neanderthal. Wait he’s not walking over. He just polite waved at me and left. What the hell. No suggestive eye contact? No bullshit apology about running off Friday? Not even a fucking hello? Hmm. He must be in a hurry.
Later That Day: Post Sober Runaway
No, he definitely was not in a hurry. His Snapchat story was of him waterboarding some pledge like ten minutes later. Maybe he’s just rude. Or maybe he’s not into me. No, that can’t be it. Right?
That Next Weekend: Whatever
He failed the final test. You sent him a selfie with the Holy Trinity working in your favor (perfect filter, perfect lighting, and perfect contouring) and he opened and didn’t reply. Ouch. Oh well. Didn’t your mom used to put rubbing alcohol on your open wounds? Someone pass me the vodka, I need alcohol to rub it in his face what a drunken sexpot he’s missing out on.
A Few Months Later: Saturday Night
Oh how the tables have turned, Chad. But for old time’s sake, I’ll let you pin me against the wall and make out with me since I heard Natalie broke up with you. .