MIDTERMS ARE OVER. Just thought I’d get that one out there. Okay, now moving onto more important matters. Boys.
Just kidding, boys are nowhere near more important than academics. But, they can offer at least a little bit of entertainment on your free time. Now that I have officially been single for a year, (technically a little over a year, but who’s counting…) I can definitely look back on some pretty crazy, out of this world, hilarious… and sometimes down right pathetic dating experiences. My mom suggested that I write a book to chronicle them, but considering that she is the only person who would read that novel, I have decided to feature them once in a while on da blog. Because my life is so much more than the pretty outfits I prance around in and I feel like it is worth sharing. Plus, if Taylor Swift gets to write songs about her exes, why can’t I blog about mine? {insert evil laugh} Don’t worry guys, I will keep your identity anonymous and only the truly crazy ones will be featured.
Okay, so for my first story, I think it would be good to tell you the tale of Trader Joes Boy, whose name I cannot remember if my life depended on it. Over the summer, I was living with my parents in sunny Surf City, Huntington Beach, just looking for some summer love at my local Trader Joe’s (… or for those delicious mini tacos…) when I stumbled upon an attractive cashier. Although I failed to speak up at the moment, I quickly picked up my items and strolled out wondering if I would run into him again. After leaving, I had to go get a newspaper from one of those little quarter machine thing-ys, but quickly found out that it was broken. I would put a quarter in and literally it would pop out of the change compartment. Irritated and making a complete spectacle of myself, I kept slamming in coins hoping that by some magic it would work. While that did not happen (no surprise there), the cutie cashier had apparently been watching because he came up to me and offered to help. Although he failed at getting the paper just as badly as I did, I was happy to chat with him. Like myself, he had just moved to Huntington Beach and did not have any local friends… perfect match… or so I thought.
Numbers were exchanged and within a few days I found myself waiting outside my house for him to meet me so that we could go to the beach together. All dolled up and giddy with excitement, I waited… and waited… and waited… only for him to show up 35 minutes late, being dropped off by a “homie”, wreaking of red bull, and worst of all wearing plaid shorts. Way to impress my family, thanks bro.
Anyways, we rode bikes to the beach as planned and he would not stop talking… about himself, of course. His dreams of being a chef, his resort home in Newport, and most importantly his Maxim Model sister that “reminded him of me.” Not exactly the compliment I was looking for on a first date. Even though I could tell he was off his rocker, I decided to stick it out. We did all of the classic beach date stuff, walking on the shore, around Main Street, and on the pier. While on the Pier, he made it evident that he was enjoying the date a lot more than I. He stopped some tourist and asked her to take a picture of “our first memories…” ……… please excuse me while I gag.
Needless to say, I had an escape planned and it was time to execute. I suggested that he have his “homie” pick him up. Well, much to my dismay (but, not to my surprise), homie never showed up. So, my mom drove him home. Cheers to the most pathetic way to end a date!
Lessons learned here:
1. Trust Trader Joe’s for their tacos and produce. NOT for their man children.
2. Always have an escape route.
3. Nod and smile when they are cray cray.
Looking back I laugh, but then I could not get over how insane the whole experience was. So, until I find an amazing man, this mural will have to do. Let me know if you want to hear more stories like this, trust me I have more than I want to share.
My outfit includes:
Leather Pants: H&M by Jimmy Choo
White Blouse: Nordstrom
Bow Tie: Topshop
Shoes: Sam Edelman’s Knox Boot
Cheerio Loves,
Kayla