Emo Teenage Girl Syndrome has sunk in. I’m not sure if this is a grand or depressing start to the new year. On one hand, I haven’t truly felt like an Emo Teenage Girl in quite some time and the feeling is refreshing. On the other….come on. I’m 27. I can remember a time when I was actually 17, and my friend Kat and I were getting drunk with my sister (14 years my senior) and her friend. On that night, they said to us “Guys, we’re warning you that nothing ever changes.” I think I know what they meant now. You may get a real job and start doing your own laundry and being a reasonably responsible adult. But that doesn’t change the fact that your interpersonal dealings with people always stay the same. Boys break your heart, friends stab you in the back, and people generally piss you off and continue to act like children. The difference is that, as you get older, the stakes get higher.

Emo Teenage Girl Syndrome entails the following for me:

-Daydreaming constantly about a boy.
-Having absolutely zero appetite. (Other than an appetite…for DESTRUCTION. Of yourself.)
-Despite the zero appetite, drinking copious amounts of alcohol which results in being tipsy at really odd times of the day.
-Listening to the same stupid songs over and over and over and belting them as loud as you can. ( You know it’s bad when you REALLY get everything Fiona Apple is saying.)
-Chain smoking.
-Sucking everyone around you into your emo stupidness despite the fact that they probably couldn’t give a fuuuuuck.
-Insomnia.

These symptoms have been occurring for about 5 days.
Here’s the story: I’m pining for a Boy. I’ve been pining for this Boy for eight months. I don’t think I’ve ever even written about him here because what’s the fucking point. I chose to record some of my more random stories and encounters instead.

I shall record the evolution of our relationship below to conserve time and energy:

Me: You are awesome. Do you want to go on a date?
Boy: Yes.

(Two days later)

Me: Do you want to come over and drink with me?
Boy: Yes.

(3am that night)

Me: Should we hang out this weekend? What day is good?
Boy: Yes. Saturday.

(Saturday)

Boy: I don’t think I feel like going out tonight.
Me: You have to be fucking kidding me.
Boy: Nope.

(Sometime later, in a text conversation)

Me: What the fuck.
Boy: Yeah, we can’t date. I don’t date. I’m crazy and selfish and poor.
Me: But you like me?
Boy: Yeah.
Me: …………

(Next month, after a wedding we were both at)

Boy: You looked really adorable tonight singing up there.
Me: (facepalm)
Boy: *posts lyrics from song I was singing on Facebook*
Me: (facepalm)

Things leveled off after that for me. My crush remained fully intact but I stopped trying because all I was doing was pushing him away and also making a drunken ass of myself more often than I would like. The months rolled on and we saw each other often. We run in close enough of crowds that I never needed to approach him for plans, I would just run into him, which was for the better. The one or two times after that first major hang out that I asked him to come over or do something one on one, he rejected me. I would occasionally drunkenly complain to his friends about him, how much I adored him, but never again directly to him.

Then maybe two months ago, I noticed a shift in the wind. Nothing major, and nothing discernible to anyone else who wasn’t looking. He wasn’t being flirtatious. But something just seemed…warmer. He texted me for the first time in ages, asking me if I was going to a particular show. I wasn’t. He seemed to be happier to see me, and going out of his way to talk to me when we were all out together. This is possibly because I did a pretty good job of not paying much attention to him.

Cut to New Year’s Eve, 2010/2011. Kat was in town and wanted to spend the holiday with me. We didn’t want to have to drive anywhere and/or sleep on someone’s floor. Luckily, Boy’s friend was having a party just up the block from where I live. First, Kat and I drank two high ABV beers at my house, then walked to a bar, drank a pitcher of beer, sang karaoke and did two JavaBombs. I REALLY hate sounding like a person who talks about doing bombs in their stories. But that’s the truth.

Highly buzzed, we walk. Luckily, when we arrive, most of the dudes I knew, including Boy, were outside smoking. Kat didn’t know anyone so I introduced her around. The evening proceeds. We drink. I do Jell-O shots. Kat helps pass out champagne. Midnight. Huzzah! I talk loudly. The usual.

At some time after midnight ( I have no idea when, drunk time warp) I decide I’m going to make my move. Kat tells me not to bother, but I bother anyway. I somehow get him out back alone, after pulling him away from a conversation. We smoke and chat and then I got way up in his grill.

(As I grab his tie in a sexy way…as sexy as I can be when I’m that drunk)

Boy: Dude, you’re messing up my tie.
Me: Really? A girl is grabbing your tie in a flirtatious way and you’re worried about it being messed up?
Boy: You’re right. I’m sorry.

(I got really really close and tried to kiss him)

Boy: No.
Me: Dude. It’s O fucking Kay.

And then we were kissing. And kissing. And kissing. My hands were in his hair, his hands were on my back. It was one of the best kisses of my life. I’ve kissed….seven(?) people since I’ve been single and nothing, NOTHING was like THAT kiss. I felt like I was 16. I felt like I was in a movie. I felt like a teenager in a movie.
People kept trying to come outside, and Boy never flinched. We could hear our friends talking about us inside, and Boy didn’t flinch. It seemed to go on forever. Standing up, on a nice porch, in the early morning, on a very unseasonably warm New Year’s Day.

Eventually, after God knows how long, he pulled away and we started having the most convoluted drunken conversation of all time. Here’s what I recall:

Me: Isn’t that better?
(pieces missing)
Boy: We can’t do that again.
Me: You have to be fucking kidding.
Boy: No. I’m mean. I’ll be mean to you.
Me: Whatever. Come over some time and makeout with me on the couch.
Boy: No.
Me: Yes.
Boy: NO.
Me: YES. You adore me.
Boy: Yes. So?
Me: ARRGGGHHHH!

I’m fairly certain we had that conversation at least five times before we were interrupted for good. We both stumbled inside, went in separate directions, and I found Kat and we walked home. I haven’t heard from him since, nor did I expect to. I’ve kept my distance, but feel a minor triumph in that he has “liked” two of my things on Facebook and I have otherwise not acknowledged his existence.

I don’t regret it because if that’s all I get, it was fucking magical (lame). But it HAS sent me into my Emo Teenage Girl Spiral in which I listen to A LOT of Fiona Apple. So I leave you with two questions:

1. What’s the deal? Why do boys suck?
2. What. The. Fuck.