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So. The date didn’t go anything like I expected at all. All of my expectations were basically based off of friends horror stories, so I guess I expected him to be a creep, for there to be awkward fumbling with everything, and for us to have nothing to talk about. Thankfully it didn’t go this way.

 I got there a little early (thanks for the clothes suggestions!) and read while I was waiting. I was actually nervous because I simply remembered him looking cute, but not exact details as to what he looked like. We found each other though and it wasn’t awkward at all. He did all of the dating moves- paid (even though I tried!), held open all of the doors, and had me walk in front of him. We got along so well that we were the awful people that talk during the previews. The movie itself was great but ended kind of early, so we decided to go over to the bar afterwards.

Again, he did the driving, the paying, the door opening bits, which I can’t really recall any guys actually doing before. There was a band playing covers of all typical New Jersey bar songs (Journey? Bon Jovi?) so we screamed at each other over all of it. He’s working towards his secondary education certification, we read the same books, listen to the same music. We had the same views on everything that we talked about. He even laughed at my crazy quirks (that I have a rat, that I don’t like babies).

We headed back after the band finished a Modern English song, and took the long route so we could talk more. And then it got to the goodbye. I had been freaking about this bit the entire night because, you know, what if he kisses me? And it was in that moment that I started thinking of PK. Maybe because he’s comfortable and I don’t have to worry about the awkwardness of first kisses and holding hands. Or maybe because I really do love him. Whatever the case, I was thinking of him as the guy was talking about plans for Saturday night. I couldn’t remember if I was working on Saturday, or if I wanted to keep going with the new guy, so I nodded and said I’d call him when I knew my schedule. We didn’t kiss, just smiled.

I got home and had a text from him thanking me for a great night, that I’m beautiful, and that he wants to go out again. And now I’m sort of stuck on whether to stick with my comfort or to try something new. To try a relationship that even in its early stage seems healthier than what I’m used to, or to keep trying with someone I feel I’m good with. 

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So. The date didn’t go anything like I expected at all. All of my expectations were basically based off of friends horror stories, so I guess I expected him to be a creep, for there to be awkward fumbling with everything, and for us to have nothing to talk about. Thankfully it didn’t go this way.

 I got there a little early (thanks for the clothes suggestions!) and read while I was waiting. I was actually nervous because I simply remembered him looking cute, but not exact details as to what he looked like. We found each other though and it wasn’t awkward at all. He did all of the dating moves- paid (even though I tried!), held open all of the doors, and had me walk in front of him. We got along so well that we were the awful people that talk during the previews. The movie itself was great but ended kind of early, so we decided to go over to the bar afterwards.

Again, he did the driving, the paying, the door opening bits, which I can’t really recall any guys actually doing before. There was a band playing covers of all typical New Jersey bar songs (Journey? Bon Jovi?) so we screamed at each other over all of it. He’s working towards his secondary education certification, we read the same books, listen to the same music. We had the same views on everything that we talked about. He even laughed at my crazy quirks (that I have a rat, that I don’t like babies).

We headed back after the band finished a Modern English song, and took the long route so we could talk more. And then it got to the goodbye. I had been freaking about this bit the entire night because, you know, what if he kisses me? And it was in that moment that I started thinking of PK. Maybe because he’s comfortable and I don’t have to worry about the awkwardness of first kisses and holding hands. Or maybe because I really do love him. Whatever the case, I was thinking of him as the guy was talking about plans for Saturday night. I couldn’t remember if I was working on Saturday, or if I wanted to keep going with the new guy, so I nodded and said I’d call him when I knew my schedule. We didn’t kiss, just smiled.

I got home and had a text from him thanking me for a great night, that I’m beautiful, and that he wants to go out again. And now I’m sort of stuck on whether to stick with my comfort or to try something new. To try a relationship that even in its early stage seems healthier than what I’m used to, or to keep trying with someone I feel I’m good with. 

I can’t remember if I mentioned it or not, but that guy that came into the cafe the other day. Quick recap: he and his friend came in and chatted with me while I got their orders, they ate and left. The girl he was with came back in and said that he had been talking about me a lot but didn’t have the nerve to ask me out himself. So he finally did get the nerve and came back to ask me out, and I said sure.

 We played phone tag today, and finally just reached each other. We decided to go see a movie tomorrow, a comedy (SUPERBAD!) so I think that bit will be fun. But I’m actually kind of nervous. I mean, does he pick me up? Do I pick him up since he’s on the way to the theater? Or do we just meet there? Who pays? What the freak am I going to wear?

Ok, just writing that made me completely nervous. Forget the fact that I’m going to my first graduate school class tonight, I’m more nervous about my date tomorrow. Any help?

We have a regular at the cafe who is the exact definition of gauche. He’s crude, rude, and generally obnoxious. About once or twice a week he comes in and places and order. “Make it extra special for me toots,” he’ll say, nodding back at my coworker, “that guy back there can tell you how good I tip.” He always tells exaggerated stories about how good of friends he is with my boss, even though she has a gag reflex whenever he walks into the place. She also told me about the time that he was banned from the cafe for two years. The reason? He had been trying to tell her some story while she was dealing with customers, and then got angry with her for not listening. When she politely told him that she was busy and would have to hear his story another time, he screamed across the cafe “Whoa, look who’s on her period!” Consequently, she asked him to leave.

This man is also known for diving his hand into the tip bowl and “exchanging money”. We’re not sure if he’s actually putting money in there because he’s actually rather sly about it. He then proceeds over to the payphone in the hallway, where he proceeds to angrily scream at the person on the other end of the line. We hope there’s another person on the end of the line.

The point of this story is that I was welcomed to work last Thursday with my boss slamming the Philadelphia Inquirer into my face. “Read this!” she demanded, pointing down to the front page. And there, my friends, was the mugshot of our dear regular. I’d heard the news reports about a man beating his mother, a judge. And I’d also had our dear regular tell me that I should go to law school, that his mother was a judge. I guess that none of us at the cafe had put two and two together, but here was the four. The article is below, with deliciously good quotes highlighted.

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A coworker of mine was browsing through a magazine that someone had absent mindedly left at the cafe this morning when she came across the usual horoscopes section in the back. “What’s your sign?” she asked, and I told her. She read mine aloud and, despite never really being much of a believer, I was sort of thrown off. It kept talking about how my life was hectic, but in the next few weeks it would become also impossible. It said that major decisions would be thrown at me and I’d have to make spur of the moment decisions on all of them. It also said that the one person who is back and forth in my life would play a major part in the coming months.

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep and lack of food, but everything seemed to fit. You see, I mentioned before that I had my medical exam for the NYPD on Friday. I had to close the cafe the night before, and the interview was set up for 6:30 am in Queens. In perhaps one of my most fickle moments I decided it would be nice to see PK as well. So I made plans with him to drive straight there after work and then relay to my medical interview from there.

Work was fine really, but we didn’t finish closing until midnight. I had parked my car in a lot a block off from the cafe, but they had moved it to another garage three blocks north. After getting all the way there, the man working at the second garage was unable to find my car. Not only did he speak on his phone for the entire time, he took 45 minutes to find my car after making me prove that the keys behind his head (the ones with the keychain for my college) were mine and then made me pay again because I didn’t have proof of having already paid.

Two hours later, I was meeting a waiting PK to go up to his apartment. Seeing him felt good, but also really confusing. I didn’t feel the same that I had before, but there was still the same level of caring for him. And there was still the same chemistry between us.

In the morning I threw on my black suit paired with ballet slippers and was walked by a sleepy PK to the train. The meeting center was about a half hour off and, despite being early, stood in line behind about twenty others. In the main room there were a total of 66 people, of which only 7 were women. We were fingerprinted before proceeding into massive amounts of informational paperwork. For a steady three hours we filled out information on ourselves- whether we’d done drugs, what tattoos we had and what they represent, our medical history, our education. We then had four more examinations- one for hearing, eyesight, blood pressure, and physical. The first three were individual and I scored perfectly on each. Not that it mattered, because the girl beside me has 20/400 vision and “passed” the eyesight exam.

The group physical was the bit I talked about earlier, only worse. We were all brought into a room where we were given a slip of paper (they called it a gown, but it was the size of a small towel), and asked to take off everything above our waist. Not exactly covering anything when the doctors rip the gowns off to the side to stick electrodes on your ta-tas. We basically all saw each other naked, which was highly discomforting, but I guess it was a good thing that I was the tiniest girl there. I would say that four of our seven were at least overweight, if not obese. We then had to go down to skivvies and do the stretching, which wasn’t so much stretching as perverse Simon Says: “Touch your toes, ok now everyone hop on your left foot, right.”  He asked two women to stay in the room, let the rest of us leave.

Back in our seats we were excited to leave. I was excited to get back to PK’s bed, when one of the women called me up to the front of the room. She handed me a piece of paper and said “Medical review.” Out of all of the people there (and despite being the only women there who wasn’t obese, doesn’t have heart issues, or smokes on a regular basis), I was the only one put on medical review for having been sick last year and for having had knee problems three years ago. I tried to tell her that I run just about every day, that my knees are fine, but she snapped me eyes that basically told me to stop arguing.

Back at PK’s place I moped. I tried to watch tv but couldn’t think straight. Then I snapped at him for misunderstanding what he was texting to me. I finally crawled into his bed with his oversized baseball shirt on where he found me a few hours later.

That night was awesome. We met up with two of his guy friends and one of their girlfriends to go bowling. We had an interesting conversation with the bowling alley bartender, who swore up and down that I was born to save lives and that Princeton was after him on papers that he wrote on psychology (PK scoffed when the bartender followed that up by admitting to never having read a book). We bowled, drank, and had fun.

I didn’t get home until late, mostly because on the drive home my gas tank cracked and started spilling gas. I couldn’t even sleep when I got home, started worrying about school and the academy, PK and work. Work wasn’t much better, but the guy from the other day came back in to ask me out himself. I’m not sure what to do with all of that, or even if I want to keep up this dating thing. In the next few weeks I’m going to have to sort all of this out, sort out work and school and every other stressor in my life. For now, I’m going catch up on sleep.

The underwear bit. No, I’m not a model (though technically I have modeled hair and in a catalog for a big kayak company). When I got back from the cabin on Saturday there was a letter from the NYPD office stating that I had to get in for my medical exam this Saturday at 6:30 am. For the sake of whining, I need to point out that I’m closing the cafe the night before. I closed tonight as well, and am posting this at 1:30 after just getting home. Meaning that I will have to leave directly from closing tomorrow night to get up there.

I did a bit of research as to what this medical exam entails. Check hearing, fine. Check eyesight, fine. Check blood pressure, fine. Have a group physical in skivvies, not fine. Basically they separate by gender, then have everyone strip to Adam and Eve fashion before doing weird stretches. Oh, and I have to pay them money to get fingerprinted. Honestly, why am I going for this profession?

On side notes, I did have a few weird things happen today. As I was sitting on the train going to work today, this guy got on at one of the stops, smiled at me, then sat in the seat across the aisle from me. He’s sorta doing this sidelong glance thing at me, I look back over and he blushes. It’s absolutely adorable. We repeat this about thirty thousand times until getting off at the same stop, and then we both walk up the same stairwell. We’re walking along, still doing the staring thing. Then I look down, look back up, and he’s gone. I’m sort of surprised because he had been right next to me a moment before, and I turn around and he’s halfway down the block, laughing at my confusion. It was absolutely one of the sweetest things that’s happened in awhile.

 Then, after a guy vomited all over the cafe (yeah, he ran in from the bar next door, puked, laughed, ran out), a guy and a girl came in. We get a lot of dates in there, so I figured it was just another one of them. I chatted with them for a bit while getting their order together, they ate, and then they left. Normal. Then the girl walks back in, sort of embarrassed. She tells me that the guy she was with couldn’t stop talking about me, that he wanted to talk to me but was afraid (really?) so he asked if she could come in for my number. I was a little put off- I mean, isn’t he supposed to be the one that asks for it? I told her that he needs to get the nerve to ask for it himself if he wants it, she laughed and asked when I was working next. We’ll see if anything happens of if that guy stays too scared.

Two short snippets about two of my best girlfriends:

Had the day off yesterday and had plenty of errands to run, so of course I went shopping with Beck. I ended up buying underwear (have to get down to skivvies on Friday for an interview- don’t ask) and an adorable pair of ballet flats. I was also eyeing the new Nike running shoes with the Ipod attachment pieces. The shoes are awesome now, and I made Becky stare at them over in the shoe department. I was explaining to her the purpose of the shocks and other features when she started to wander away. I look to where she’s inching, and she’s found herself a pair of deep red pumps with tiny beading. She’s murmuring softly to them, looks up at me and goes “Now these are my kind of running shoe.”

Other girlfriend Meredith just moved across the country to go to vet school. She is one of the perkiest, cutest, brilliant girls I’ve met in awhile. She’s even running for class president, that’s how darn perky she is. Beck and I called her on speakerphone while driving home from the mall (sidenote: we decided to use her Garmin to avoid highways and ended up driving through some pretty scary areas. We heard a car backfire and thought it was a gunshot. To which she angrily mumbled “I wish Garmin made an ‘avoid ghettos’ just like its ‘avoid highways.'” The drive home also took us an hour longer.) We can immediately tell that something has happened because Mer sounds sad.

She then tells us that she was the first person to injure herself at vet school. (Another sidenote: if you are particularly squeamish, you might not want to keep reading this) So for classes, she has to use a set of equiptment for the surgical procedures. Her set is mostly like the ones that you use in basic anatomy classes- the scalpel, the scissors, the puke bag- but it also has a giant bone-cutting butcher knife. She decided to take all of her tools with her before class and put them in her locker. Her giant butcher knife had a plastic safety guard over it, so she tossed it in her bag with the other ones and started walking. Halfway across campus, some guy stops her to point out that there is blood running down her leg- the insane bone-cutting butcher knife had sliced its protective guard, cut through her bag and (shudder) embedded itself in her knee. It was such a clean cut that she didn’t even notice. When we stopped talking to her last night, she was debating whether or not to stitch it up herself. My favorite bit of the story was that, while walking back with a bloody leg, she kept telling passing people “watch out for those doors, the corners are really sharp!”

Squeaking swings and tall grass
The longest shadows ever cast
The water’s warm and children swim
And we frolicked about in our summer skin
 

I sat in the seven hour car ride today thinking of how to write everything that I wanted to write, whether I should censor the things I wanted to say, and if it would sound contrived if I wrote things the way that they happened over the past week.  In my head, everything feels like it was out of a movie. Even he said that to me on our last night together up at the cabin.

He? Yes, he. I should probably start from the beginning.

My brother and I drove up to the cabin together on Saturday for what must have been one of the most miserable drives of my life. It felt like we were constantly stuck in traffic, and neither one of us was truly excited for a week at the cabin fully expecting to go cabin-fever crazy a la Jack Nicholson in The Shining. We pulled up and trudged over towards the cabin when I hear a “Hey ya’ll!” coming from the cabin next door. And I groaned.

A guy with dark brown hair was walking towards us to say hi, introduced himself and then started talking. I wasn’t so sure if he was just being “Southern polite” or if he was flirting, but his family was going to be in the cabin beside ours for the next week. He was terribly nice, and I’m not really sure why I was so annoyed in the beginning. I think it was partly because I was used to my routine at the cabin- having coffee in the morning and at sunset on the dock- and was somewhat thrown off when he joined me that first night for coffee on the dock. And then the next morning. And then the next night as well, where we sat in the two Adirondack chairs and watched the meteorite shower. By then we’d formed our own new routine, and I was finally catching on to the fact that he was interested in me.

By Sunday we were seeing each other during the day too, swimming in the lake together and complaining about how cold it was getting in, then how cold it was getting out. We went hiking to the top of the tallest mountain in the area, then scrambled up the fire tower on top of it to see all of the surrounding lakes. We played football in the lake and swam with his nieces and nephews.

We fell into a routine, and spent our nights together talking. Tanner was older than me, had been an undergrad Psychology student at University of North Carolina (note that I’m a Duke fan). He decided on a whim to become a masseuse, wants to open his own practice. He was there with his parents, brother and sister and their spouses and children. The children, I fell in love with them. We huddled around campfires in the evenings listening to the children sing camping songs and put on skits (I admittedly was in several of those skits, prepare for my Broadway debut).

As the week surged on, Tanner and I spent every night out on the dock watching the stars and the fog, listening to the loons and the coyotes. We’d wrap ourselves in my blanket, which he always told me smelled of my skin. One night, he stopped mid-conversation to say “Did ya hear that?” I hadn’t, but looked up to see a bear walking along the shoreline, not twenty feet from where we were on the dock. I clung to his arm as we watched the bear sniff about.

And then there was last night, our last night together on the dock. The weather brought a strange layer to everything, threatening to rain with thick clouds overhead. The fog would roll in and envelope us, and then roll out to leave the lake absolutely clean. And then it would roll in again, making even the shoreline impossible to see. When it started to rain, we tried to run to the cabins, but made it only as far as the garden shed. It was large inside, warm, and smelled lightly of gasoline from the lawn mower against the back wall. The lightening was flashing outside the windows, the thunder cracking loudly over the lake, and then we were kissing. The rain was pelting the windows, and we’re on my blanket on the floor of the shed.

It was everything that script writers and authors try to create when they write scenes like that. Even the best of those writers couldn’t create the chemistry that happened between Tanner and I. I felt dizzy afterwards, whether from giddiness and happiness or from the gasoline I’m not sure. We laid there afterwards, watching the rain pass along the windows and trying to come to some understanding of what had happened.

He kissed me outside the door to my cabin later that evening, wrapping me in his arms and saying “I never want to forget your smell, Caity-May”, the name he’d taken to calling me in that thick Southern accent.

This morning everything was still there when I said goodbye to his family. And for those seven hours back home I’ve been replaying everything in my head, trying to decide what to do from here. He said he wants to keep in contact, wants me to call, wants to write letters. But how possible is something like that?

The Good: I was out shopping with Alie today when I got a call on my cell- a number I didn’t recognize. It turned out to be the president of the crew team that I’d rowed for in high school. I had sent them a resume about a month back and had been speaking with my old coach about taking on a coaching job under them. The president asked me if I could do an impromtu interview today, and we scheduled. I walked over to his house, which is luckily only a few blocks away, and sat with him in his living room talking about crew. He asked me a lot about my experiences with it, said that they were looking for someone with both rowing and coxing experience, that the levels that I’ve raced at are higher than they had expected. He asked me to coach for them on the spot, and I accepted.

Granted it’s not the greatest paying job, but it’s a sport that I love. I’m going to be working with novice women, so I’ll be with them practicing every day. I have to renew my boating license, but then I’ll start with the practices in a few short weeks. I really couldn’t be happier- how many people can say that they will enjoy waking up at 4 am every morning to coach kids?

The Bad: OK, well I guess this isn’t bad per se, but I’m about to head up to our family cabin for the week. It’s in the middle of the Adirondacks, right on the shores of a beautiful, serene lake. On the other sides, it’s surrounded by mountains with plenty of hiking and running trails. The town itself is tiny, with only a one room schoolhouse to take on the year-round kids. Sound nice? Now imagine that cabin- with it’s five bedrooms and beautiful view- with my parents, brother, oma, my oma’s best friend, grandmother, and step-grandfather. The grandmother and my mother don’t get along, my mother and my oma (her mother) have been fighting for the past month, my mother also hates my step-grandfather, and my mother and I have been bickering for the past week. I’m also leaving my dogs at home for the week, which is already freaking me out. And worse? No internet or phones. I’m going to come home and Clink will have eloped to Paris, or Molly will be in jail for having killed a tan, petite, jet black-haired woman with the heel of her (very lovely) shoe, or KLC will have gotten engaged. WHAT IF? Cabin fever, here I come.

The Ugly: I’ve been considering getting my hair cut for several weeks, but have never been sure of what I actually want done. I knew I wanted those cute sidelong bangs that sweep across the forehead, but I also know that haircuts that I like on paper NEVER look good on me. It’s a time-tested fact.

I went over yesterday on a whim with a picture in my hand and asked for it. The woman laughed and said “That’ll be a breeze!” and started chopping away. When she finished, I looked in the mirror. It wasn’t at all what I’d asked for, and I pointed that out. “Well, I left your bangs a little longer than you’d asked for because it looks better this way.” They weren’t bangs, they tucked behind my ear. They fit in a low ponytail. I asked her to trim a bit more off, and she told me to sleep on it. So I did.

The next morning? Still hated it. After lunch and shopping with Alie I swung back over to the salon and told them that I wanted a fix. I showed the next girl the picture that I wanted, and she said pretty much the same thing as the first woman. “This cut is so easy!” She again snipped away, and voila! I hated it. Now I have bangs that, again, look nothing like what I asked for. Any suggestions on how I can fix it? I figure for now I’m just going to pin them up a’ la Fergie Hump/Faux Hawk.

I feel like my thoughts are too scattered for an actual post, so I’m opting for what many of you have done in the past week and bulleting. (Read: I’m lazy)

  • I went out to the local bar with Bri and Mer last night. It wasn’t anything crazy, and I ended up telling them I had to get to bed earlyish for work in the morning. I got back by eleven, and was in bed with my computer beside me. Mer messages me, and is having an utter breakdown. She’s moving across the country on Friday (I can’t even bear to think about that at all without coming close to tearing up), but she also had a huge falling out with her quasi-boy. This guy was her first kiss, the only guy she’s ever loved. For six years they’ve had this relationship where they know they’re supposed to be together, but distance and schedules make it fairly impossible. Earlier this summer at her graduation party (the one with the sharks!) she got really drunk and happend to see her boy kissing her roomate. She was livid, kicked him out of her house, and made him drive the two hours back home at two in the morning. He never apologized, never explained himself. Mer has spent all summer still talking to him up until a month ago. He was supposed to drive out with her across the country, but then stopped responding to all calls. For over a month he ignored her. Until yesterday. When he called her back, screamed at her, refused to talk about the fact that he kissed her roommate. So Mer messages me at twelve, asks me to come over. I Lindsay-Lohaned over to her house (minus the booze and drugs, plus the speeding in suburbia), found her crying on her doorstep. I have known Mer since eighth grade when I moved to this town and was sat alphabetically next to her in homeroom. We’ve been close friends since, had our ups and downs and fights and sleepovers. And never once have I seen this girl cry. Here she is, hugging me and crying. I spent the next two hours with her, sitting in the park and going over everything that we could until she thought that she could get to sleep. The thing is, I don’t even know what to tell her on it. I’m usually the go-to friend for advice, but on this I don’t even know what to say. The good thing is, I rushed home from work today and ordered flowers to be delivered to her new house on Saturday when she moves in. Hopefully that will help get her mind off of the jerk. 
  • At work this morning, my coworker (the lovely little sixty-five year old avid church-going woman) was asking me deets about myself. She asked me about whether or not I had a boyfriend because of drama with another coworker (will be covered in another bullet). I told her that I wasn’t really seeing someone, and then sort of sighed. PK and I have been exchanging weird emails and the occassional message to each other, both trying to figure out what is wrong with us. I mean, aside from him being a douche bag. So I tried as best as I could to explain the PK situation, about him being unable to settle and wanting me when he can’t have me, but then freaking out about committment when we get together. And also the bit about him saying he was unable to visit me on a thirty dollar train ticket when he just went out and bought an Iphone. Her response was this: “You know honey, my first husband was somewhat similar, and he was a man. What can I say? We ended up getting divorced. I didn’t make the same mistakes on my second marriage- I married a gay man.” That’s right. Girl has a thing for going to gay bars, met a man there, became best friends with him, then married him despite the fact that she fully acknowledged that he was gay and, um, not that into her.
  • The drama with the coworker. I am sort of into this guy I met at work, and we went to see a movie together the other day after we got off our shift. And I had a freakin’ great time. But I kept it clear that I wasn’t ready to date, that things are complicated, that I’m a headcase. In reality, I know that if I start getting into this guy, PK will suddenly want me again. It’s happened before- when I dated his best friend (well, I guess that’s obvious) , The Coach, Jordan, Habibi, Kyle…. every time I would start seeing someone new, PK would have his breakdown and tell me that he wants to be with me. He’d start talking about the future, about bookcases covered with books and talking about kids. And I know in my head, regardless of how much of an ass he is, I will compare my current guy to him. Crap.
  • I am by no means a fan of Dave Mathews. I guess I just never got into him at all, and actually get really annoyed by his music. But my brother and Craig asked me to come along to meet up with some of our mutual friends over at the lot and I figured I’d go. Holy crrrrrap. Anyone else been to one of those? I mean, I’ve heard people talk about them before and always having the craziest stories out of them, but seriously? In the span of two hours I was offered so many drugs, hit on, had a guy grab at me, watched a guy try to pee on my car, watched the same guy pee himself while bonging a beer, and saw about three thousand girls in mini jean skirts, tank tops, and dyed blonde hair.
  • I was fairly drunk when I left the lot to go meet up with my friend Mandy to go to the Riversharks game. They’re the minor league team out here, and you can get seats for six bucks and sit behind home plate. Mandy called me as I was running out of the parking lot, and I happened to see her car in traffic sitting on MLK Boulevard. In Camden. So I ran over and threw myself drunkenly into the backseat, and tried not to act so drunk when I realized that her seventh grade brother was in the front seat. He was so sassy the entire night, I loved him. At one point I cursed in front of him, then apologized. He goes “It’s ok, I’ve seen Happy Gilmore. It’s all good!” The child is precious, minus the fact that the devil mocked me all night for being drunk. We met up with a bunch of friends there and had a great time heckling the batters and then watching them try to ignore us (seriously! so! close! I could have spit on them). The little brother got up to go to the bathroom some time around the sixth inning, and we didn’t really get worried until about ten minutes later when he still wasn’t back. When he finally did come back, he was crying so hard that he couldn’t get his story out. We finally got out “bathroom” and “pulled my pants down” before Mandy fled up the stairs with him. I followed, then hugged him and tried to calm him down and get the full story out. Another younger boy approached me and was able to tell me the whole story as a bystander. He said that there was a mentally challenged boy in the bathroom who was grabbing other boys, forcing them into the back stall and pushing them against the wall. He would them make them put their hands above their heads while he “patted” them down, finally pulling their pants down. I freaked. I left the little brother with Mandy again and happened to run into the mentally challenged kid as he was trying to walk out of the bathroom. I know how to calm down my cousin, so I told him my name, told him I was going to help him find his mom. And then he slapped me. At this point, (and I apologize in advance for what I am about to say), I pretty much threatened to kill him. Not seriously, but I was pretty angry. Here was this completely angry, troubled boy walking around without his parents and assaulting boys in the bathroom. I followed him as he was walking around the stadium, finally running towards a woman in all white. For a second I remembered those pictures on the Discovery Channel of what mother animals look like when their children are threatened. She screamed at me for scaring her son… excuse me? Who in their right mind would allow their son- realizing the kind of behavior he presents- to go walking around a crowded place by himself? I walked away, and on the way back to my seats ran into another flustered mother. Her son had been another boy whose pants had been pulled down in the bathroom. I told her everything that had happened, and watched as she marched over to the mother, guns blazing. I figured it best to go back to my friends, where the little brother was still really upset. We spent the rest of the game cheering him up- I even tried to convince him to help me find a baseball player boyfriend, to no avail. Though I must say, he did scream “Hey number 11! Caitlyn is single!” while pointing at me.