Confessions of a Recovering Manic Pixie Dream Girl, Pt 2
BDGS is pleased to present the second installment from anonymous lady, "Recovering." 1.2 The Awkward Midwestern Undergraduate Years, Mike
What can I say about Mike? Half-Jewish, half-Irish with a fantastic ass? I suppose I could wax sentimental and refer to him as the Mike like he was the only Mike that mattered, but that was not the nature of our relationship. Still, it probably says something about me considering out of the “Gallery of Regrettable Hookups,” I am still in regular contact with him. We chat online and watch terrible movies on Netflix together. Mike is also the only person to have turned up in all three parts of my young adult life.
At first I knew him just as that guy with the bleached hair who I used to share nap-time with in our Introduction to Ethics philosophy class. One person fell asleep and then like a chain reaction, the surrounding note-takers would soon fall. Yet somehow, months later, we were still able to joke about Kant’s categorical imperative post-coitus. I suppose there is something to be said about hypnopedic instruction.
After the whole Alan thing, I decided I’d just give up on the whole dating thing and actually concentrate on my studies or something. I’m not entirely sure how I met Mike again, but it was probably because we had a mutual friend in the dorm that he knew from high school. Either way, at some point, we were in the same dorm room with a bunch of other nerds watching Futurama and Family Guy while eating junk food from the late night cafeteria. From what I remember, a bunch of people got mono after one viewing party after passing around a couple pints of ice cream. Oh, college.
One night the crowd had thinned out and it was just Mike and me on his bed. Even his roommate seemed to have disappeared. I figured “why the hell not?” and started making out with him. Not too long after I made my move, the door opens and the lights come on. Some girl stares at the both of us and then leaves. Undeterred, one of us gets up and locks the door and we pick up where we left off. Sure enough, the girl had recently gotten out of a “thing” with Mike so this was pretty awkward all around.
Before we knew it, we were going through the condom quota from the student health center at a healthy rate. It was at the point that during midterms, I had to make a bet with my friends that I could go without sex for a week just so I could get some work done (and get a free dinner and dessert that Friday night). Things got more awkward when I decided that I wanted to do the exclusive boyfriend/girlfriend thing. This occurs on numerous occasions throughout undergrad:
Me: We should date. Mike: Naw. Me: You’re such a dick. Mike: … [and then we don’t speak for three months until one of us wants to have sex again]
Keep in mind, the above script is the tl;dr version. In real time, there were a lot more words exchanged. Not to mention that sometimes I’d attempt to booty call him and he would reject me for Halo and watching Star Trek: Deep Space Nine with the guys. I consider myself on the nerdy side, but I would be lying if these rejections weren’t slightly damaging to my fragile undergraduate sexual ego. It’s sort of funny to have the level of detachment half a decade of hindsight can bring.
In the end, this wasn’t so much a bad relationship but a series of awkward, but occasionally sexy encounters. Mike was also on the limber, flexible and imaginative side in bed, so I’m counting this one as a win even though Mike and I technically never dated. For those keeping score at home, it’s been 1:1 so far.