ExposedNYC

So, I’ve had friends tell me that I can occasionally think like a guy. Particularly when I’m on vacation and would rather make-out with someone who I can easily walk away from than someone I would get emotionally involved with and actually miss. That’s why they call it a fling, right?

I thought for sure it would be easy to find a make-out buddy on Saturday night. Kate organized a pub crawl through our hometown and invited over fifty people we grew up with. The girls started a running joke early in the night to keep a tally of the number of guys in the room that we’d ever kissed growing up. I was up to two just at the first bar.

But, times have changed, and not everyone there was on vacation like I was. One by one, as the night continued and I flirted shamelessly, the guys began to head home for an early day at work, or decided to mention the girlfriend that was waiting for them. So, I turned to drunk texting the few in my phone that hadn’t made it to the party.

Kate’s boyfriend walked by to check on me, and kindly reassured me that any guys that I didn’t get a response from were idiots. I mean, c’mon, a cute drunk girl in town for the weekend wants no strings hook-up and you blow her off? I even included a slightly Girls Gone Wild picture message that I’m not especially proud of, but seemed totally convincing at the time. We laughed, and I promised him I’d say a silent prayer that his GF was sober enough to give him a little something that night.

The next day, with a little more perspective and partially to save face, I sent a text to a guy I’ll call “Booty Call”- because we used to love to meet up after being out at the bars with friends- saying I was embarrassed and apologizing for harassing him the previous evening. Later at brunch, I was glad I did because I got a voice mail saying “You’re a lucky girl. My phone is trashed and I didn’t get your messages yesterday, but I did get the one this morning, and I’m curious what it is you’re embarrassed about?”

I took this as my saving grace for a better impression, and that I hadn’t been completely blown off. I called him that afternoon, we chatted, and we made plans to meet up after I hit happy hour with Jodie. She and I met at a gorgeous restaurant on the beach where Jodie’s first love and my first boyfriend happen to be managing and bartending, respectively (I always loved that term. It just sounds so dignified!).

I was driving, so after each drink I kept insisting that I needed to stop so that I could meet up with Booty Call. Jodie, on the other hand, insisted that I wasn’t allowed until I had made definite plans. So, I called BC to set a time and he didn’t answer. So I waited fifteen minutes and tried again, still no answer. Jodie smiled and raised her glass, glancing at the boys across the room and said, “Here’s to Plan B!”

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