Now I Know Why I’m Single

Scenario:  Saturday night I was out with my friends from home. A and I started out on our own, sitting at a bar watching the Georgia game over beer and pizza, waiting on everyone else to get in town. When they finally arrived we ended up at my favorite bar, cheering with the rest of the crowd that had dodged the rain instead of sitting in the stadium.  After watching Georgia kick a winning field goal, screaming ‘Glory, Glory to Ol’ Georgia’ at the top of our lungs with the whole bar, and Dawg-calling for about twenty minutes, we decided to make some moves and ended up at three different bars with three times as many drinks, single-handedly leading a dance party at the last bar of the night.

Half the group left to go home, and the other half waited for our ride, and as we were walking out of the last bar I happened to notice a football player (whose name I will no longer ever mention), who I have a class with.

Mind you, we have never spoken more than our group discussion has allowed. He doesn’t know my name, and I only know his because I’m mother f-ing creepy (I also have this thing for athletes, and for football, and, well, that’s just a loaded combination).

I digress.

So I spot him as I’m walking out the door, and one of the 234,085 drinks I had that night told me it would be a good idea to call his name and say hi.  And that is precisely what I did. And all of a sudden one of the guys I was with absolutely NEEDED to see more of this guy. And I had to show him who I was talking about.  So I may or may not have pointed him out and called attention to A PERFECT STRANGER. Because that’s just what I do?

It didn’t occur to me to be embarrassed (read: humiliated, like want-to-dig-a-hole-crawl-in-and-die kind of embarrassed) until Sunday morning when I realized that, OH YEAH, CLASS MONDAY, where there are all of 20 people, and I’m one of them and SO IS HE, yeah I’m going to have to see him again.

I mean, it’s not like I saw Peyton Manning walking around and I was an adoring fan so I called his name, oh no. This kid is a college football player. Sure he might go pro one day, but right now? No one cares. Except me.

Needless to say I was mortified walking into class this morning. I totally lucked out as I walked in at the last minute and we watched a movie in the pitch black room for the entire class, but for the next ten-ish weeks I’m going to have to relive my horror on a tri-weekly basis.

Verdict: It’s no f*cking wonder I’m single.