I’d Rather Go Read A Book

We played catch up the other weekend. Since we don’t live close to each other, we have to cram everything in to one weekend. Plus, Owen wanted me to meet his friends and family so he could tell me that he loved me. Right? I’m right. It’s easier if he just admits it, darling.

Owen met my HLM and Big Sexy and he already knew he loved them. He even met my family, coming to Easter and being nervous that my dad would ask him to pray and he was “trying to remember Catholic prayers from childhood”. Yeesh. But they didn’t. My siblings were funny and kind and the best versions of themselves. My nieces and nephews called him Mister Owen. They asked him mildly inappropriate questions about war and battle and he gently answered their curiosity with kind responses. They think he’s especially cool. He had a particular bond with my oldest niece-relating to her desire to be treated like a grown up. It’s funny how childlike Owen acts, but wants to be taken seriously. The thing is, he’s already enough. Without being ridiculous and pushing buttons and accepting every piece of attention. She’ll learn that soon too. We ended up having some alone time with my parents when everyone else left. We got Sonic and sat in the back seat of the car. It felt like being 17 again. My family loves him. My mom and sister in law are particularly worried about his faith. But then again, so am I. Mom was quick to tell me that he’s a good fit for me though. Funny and interesting. And doesn’t just put up with my shit. That Owen challenges me. Boy, does he.

Gah. I adore him.

Anyways, we spent a weekend with his best friend and his wife and their boring couple friends. The four of them shared a hotel room. I think I may have actually died had he forced me to share a hotel room with them. They literally came to Austin loaded up with super cheap (hangover-for-sure) level alcohol and fruit punch. Like high school. I wasn’t thrilled, especially since earlier in the day, we had celebrated Big Sexy’s birthday on a rented boat on the lake with 10 other people. Owen drank too much. It’s strange to me that he still doesn’t exactly know what that means. And that he would push his limits when he drove me in his car, which is a manual, and he knows I can’t drive that. It was a good time on the boat though. I just wish Owen could fully understand (rightthisverysecond) what it looks like when he drinks too much when he probably should be taking care of me. His values are off. His priorities are wrong. I’ll give him time though. Just not forever.

Anyways, we get to the hotel after that long day full of alcohol and sun. And they want to GO OUT that night. I’m trying to rally and so is he. We go to an Italian place for dinner. We’re so exhausted that the earth feels like its off its axis. We don’t have anything to say to each other that won’t be like the Snickers commercials before they beat their hanger. I’m dreading the evening. However, I rally. I look cute in this skort that shoes off my legs and a swingy spaghetti strapped crop top. Cute. Casual. Austin-y. I wear flats because I’m not a fucking freshman. The other two girls look like a sorta cheap version of Uptown Dallas-ites. My Chicago bff tells me to be nice when I Snapchat her this…it’s true. I try to suck it up. I order my favorite drinks. I join in on the “coolest concert you’ve ever been to” conversation. Little did I know that this would new the most that your best friend actually talks to me. I rally to make it to the next bar when they want to hop. Owen later mentions that he saw lots of men “noticing” me. Well. Yes. That’s what bar hopping entails, friend. He mentions that maybe he should be jealous. I just rolled my eyes. We stand in little circles Owen and his BFF just scream-talk in inside jokes and movie references and basically seem like 20 year old frat boys. No one asks me anything. Everyone pretends they’re having fun. The male counterpart of the boring couple comes over to me and starts hitting on me. No one notices. We finally hop to the third place. It has music! And dancing! And Owen says he doesn’t want anything when I squeeze up to take my place at the bar. Really? YES. I order him a club soda and reach over the bar to get extra limes. This way, no one will bother him. Also, now that I know that he’s staying sober, I loosen up. We’re finally somewhere fun, I feel safe, and literallynone of them dance. Who are these people? They talk about “getting fucking lit” and then are essentially no fun. They order cheap drinks even though we’re all adults. They don’t dance. This is the time to get a buzz as we can walk home, andnow  they choose to stay sober? Like, I’m glad. But also confused about their choices.

We spend that night wrapped up together. He frustrates me. He didn’t cater to me at all that day. His bff had almost nothing to say to me. But I can tell he’s frustrated with their planning skills. That he’s trying to learn to balance this new thing; this not being single and 20. And, grumpy, exhausted, we relax in to each other.

The next morning, BFF’s Wife gets sick in the van to lunch. BFF tells her to hold it in. He unsympathetically tells her to tell the driver to turn up the air. He doesn’t take care of her at all. Owen and I yell from the backseat for the driver to pull over. BFF’s Wife hops out of the car, pukes in the trash can on the sidewalk, then HOPS BACK IN WITH A SMILE ON HER FACE AND SAYS SHE FEELS BETTER. The whole brunch is more of the boys saying super inapprorpriate inside jokes. I have nothing to contribute. Plus, I’m fuming that BFF is pissed that his wife keeps getting up to dry heave in the bathroom. No kindness. “She shouldn’t have mixed alcohols” he gruffs. WTH?! I don’t understand how they could encourage these behaviors in each other and then not take care of each other. Later in the day, we’re napping in our room and Owen asks me about it. He tries to defend his friend saying that she does this too much and BFF is sick of it. “I get that that’s frustrating” I concede. Owen says “but you don’t agree at all do you?” I say I don’t. And that’s it. Not much else to say. I imagine it’s hard to see your BFF look like a complete ass. It’s also hard to see your boyfriend be best friends with someone that treats his wife like that. ANd hard not to think “MY friends would NEVER treat their spouses like that”. But…they wouldn’t.

We hike down to the green belt later. They complain that it’s not deep. It’s a creek. In Texas. In the summer. It’s not going to be flowing. They complain that they’re exhausted. They bring cheap alcohol mixed with punch to drink. The girls are both overflowing their bikinis with their beer fat bellies. They wear the mismatched swimsuit bottoms and tops that girls do when they realize their boobs have massively exploded in relation to their small hips. They wear their sorority tank tops. Owen looks ridiculous in super short shorts and awful green tiger striped sunglasses. Normally, his silly clothes don’t bother me, but in combination with continued exhaustion and nothing to talk about with these people, I am about done. I pour myself a whiskey ginger and take my sexy side scooped one piece clad self out into the middle of the creek and ask the girls lots of polite questions. They’re not so bad when they’re away from their husband/boyfriend. I just keep thinking about how much more fun we’d have with my friends. About how my friends aren’t dependent on alcohol to have something to say to each other.

We get back to the hotel to shower up before dinner. Owen is frustrated because his friends won’t stick to a plan. He gets more upset when he realizes they didn’t make reservations for a Saturday night Memorial Weekend in Downtown Austin for dinner. His other military friend (Johnny Bravo) is driving in from 30 minutes away to eat and go out with us. We end up ditching his friends and going to dinner with Johnny Bravo. At this point, I am SO grateful to see Johnny Bravo and actually be acknowledged. I’m happy to hear them talk about something besides South Park and drinking. And I’m happy to see Owen truly smile at me for the first time in two days. It feels like we can each take a deep breath again. We eventually meet up at a cool bar on West 6th. And then, they sit there. Not really talking. Not dancing.

So, like, why did we choose to have a cool downtown Austin weekend with super boring people?

Owen asks me what I thought of them and I say “I really like how much effort BFF’s Wife made in accepting me and being excited to get to know me. And I really appreciate that you and BFF are so close to each other. I know that means a lot to you. But it was a little hard to get to know him in this partying kind of element. I felt like you were super stressed and everyone was exhausted. I’d love to have a more chill weekend with them sometime.”

“Hmm…well…I mean, we always go out when I see them. Because I don’t see them that often. Well, I guess sometimes we play video games together…hmm…yea…okay…”

I don’t respond. Because, I mean, how is that friendship? That’s your party friend. Just because you like to drink with someone and quote South Park, that does not mean I need to be included. Go on ahead. But I’d rather go read a book.

He told me a few days later “let’s not do that again. That weekend was too full. I was stressed out.” He also told me, “you did so great. I loved every second. You are so wonderful.” So, basically, he’s infatuated with me. And the fact that I nodded and smiled and rallied and didn’t complain even though I wanted to tell him the weekend was SO NOT FUN.

Here’s the thing, he’ll recognize that on his own. It seems like he’s already starting.

Think that’s the end of that weekend? Think again. After all of that, we drove up to meet his family…

Remember the Beginning

Remember that time that you patiently answered every question that Big Sexy and Captain America had at the rugby game? The first time we met? I was charmed. You were boisterous and funny in the car ride, but then you gently taught the boys without bragging that you knew more than them. I liked the juxtaposition.

Remember when I reached out to you innocuously on Facebook because I hated that you hadn’t shown interest in me? I asked you about a TV show, you answered, and then I ignored you? Remember how you waited a week and then struck up the conversation again? It infuriates me that I had to pursue you. But you know what else? I like that we are equals. That you don’t lay down and let me walk all over you. And I like that you remember what I wore that day. That you remember that I touched your back when I had to scoot behind you.

Remember the long messages we would write each other? Remember how you didn’t ask for my number right away? I really loved that. You let me adjust to talking to you on Facebook messenger. It felt less forward. Friendly. Remember how smart you were (are)? You made me laugh. You caught my pop culture references. Remember how I still have to google yours? Maybe you’re too smart for me. Or maybe you have terrible taste in tv shows 😉 Remember how Big Sexy peaked over your shoulder one time at work and texted his wife and told her that we wrote “novels” to each other? We kind of did. I loved it. I loved that it wasn’t one sided. I loved that you had a lot to say.

Remember that I drove in to town and saw you that very first night? Big Sexy and HLM had an event to go to. You were out at The Garage for work. You were with your friends. I was nervous that we wouldn’t be able to talk easily. Or that you were already hammered. I still came out. I wore all black. And there you were just sitting with your two friends, drinking waters. Your back was to me and when you turned around to hug me, your friends nudged each other and were grinning. Your friends were nice and one of them kept quizzing me. He made me guess his home state with 5 questions. He still owes me a shot. I hope you remind him of that. Remember how we went to get a drink at the bar? Then just stayed there, ditching your friends. I offered to go back to their table, but you said “nah, they’re fine”. They came over to say bye to us. Shots friend leaned in and said “We hope to see a lot more of you around here!” We stayed for a long time. We only had one drink. We were too busy talking. You walked me to my car. You hesitated. I gave you a hug. You didn’t kiss me. You don’t know this, but I remember how I hoped you didn’t kiss me. I wanted a connection with you. I didn’t want to ruin it with a first kiss by my car in front of a bar named The Garage.

Remember how HLM always has people over for spaghetti nights? She did the same thing the next day. Except she conveniently forgot to invite anyone besides you. Remember how we promised to back each other up when she assigned you to bring wine and me to make crescent rolls? We didn’t need any backup. We sat outside under the twinkly lights. It was a little hot and we quickly drank the chardonnay you brought. I usually hate chardonnay, but it tasted really fantastic sitting next to you. The four of us finished both bottles. And margaritas. And after dinner drinks with XO. We told stories and you helped HLM clear the table. Big Sexy smiled at me. I sarcastically asked him what was wrong with his face. He genuinely responded, “I just like seeing you so happy.” You came back out and you held my hand and you whispered jokes in my ear.

Remember how you stayed over that night? Big Sexy suggested it since we had so much to drink. I hadn’t realized it, but I was very very drunk. I felt awful. I went into the bathroom and made myself throw up. Don’t worry. I brushed my teeth for 3 minutes straight. Remember how we sat on their big gray couch together? We talked about everything-families and dating and God and really truly liking each other. You kissed me then. It was sweet and full and easy. You stayed over that night. We probably went too far. We were a little too drunk. We shared too much, but then again, we have since Day 2 (Day 1 you ignored me at the rugby match, duh). I said we were too different. That we shouldn’t do this. You told me you wanted to try. I hope you still do.

Remember how the four of us had breakfast together the next morning? You ate all of HLM’s protein pancakes that I hated. Remember how Big Sexy waited until it got quiet and said “Sorry about last night” and we all burst out laughing because we all knew that we heard them having sex in the next room? I love that you’re a good sport. I love that you adapt well to new situations. I love that you can make light of things.

Remember how two days later you picked up the three of us in your very clean black car? You drive a stick, which I was a little bummed to see. Less hand holding you know? You realized that the other day and mumbled to yourself that maybe you should get rid of it. You drove us to your friends’ new house. They were having a BBQ. You wore a Hawaiian shirt. It made me laugh. I actually liked it…minus the fact that you wore a black mock turtleneck underneath it. You told me later that you liked how you didn’t have to be right next to me the whole time. That I tried to join in the conversation even though you boys dominated it with shop talk. I told you that I loved how you saved Big Sexy from going down a rabbit hole that other people wouldn’t enjoy. You would touch my back when you walked by me. It gave me chills. I love when you touch me. Remember how you told me you don’t like PDA after that day? I’ve made fun of you ever since. You also told me that you think its maybe something you’ll have to get used to. I think you’re too hard on yourself about this, honestly. It hasn’t been an issue, but I am still going to tease you. Pinch your butt when no one is looking. I remember how you made sure not to leave me hanging though. You quickly came around to introduce me. I loved that you paid attention to me. Not everyone does that. I’m lucky.

Remember how all of this happened before we even went on a date?

I loved it all.

Love. And Faith. And Real Real Life.

We don’t agree on very much. He was raised differently than me. His step dad didn’t like how the Catholic church put their heads in the sand when they realized they had a chronic and pervasive rape culture. So they stopped going. He doesn’t really “think about religion at all really”. He believes “there’s a God, but i’ve done everything on my own. I don’t regret anything. I’m here now and living and seeking out all of these new things”.

I get all of that. Truly.

Except I don’t believe him. He’s constantly seeking the approval of his dad, and step dad, and male mentors. Father figures weren’t really present. He’s reaching out and getting rejected. Pretending it doesn’t sting.

He’s constantly seeking the next thing. The next high. The next night. He still “parties”. He says the word “party” as though its still a verb. He’s always wanting adventure. Acts like the settled, wholesome things are boring. And then he does them…and he adores it. The constancy, the safety.

Me? I’m no better. I worry. Constantly. I overthink and I doubt and I get frustrated and my temper is pretty nuts. I’m not easy.

But I do know that I have the perfect Father. Constant, omniscient, everlasting, never changing. I know there is freedom in my identity in God. It’s not bondage, its everlasting love and grace. It’s all encompassing. It’s life-giving! It’s not a set of rules, it’s beautiful beautiful love. It’s understanding that our current cultural zeitgeist of “whatever feels right to you!” is fleeting and inherently selfish. There’s no love in solely living for yourself. Eventually, all that is, is madness.

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”

C.S. Lewis

So, I’m worried. How will we move forward? Will he be able to respect that I truly mean what I say when I say I’m a believer? When I told him that I’ve dated men who didn’t go to church with me, that didn’t want to learn that side of me and that it was awful, did he hear me? That it was awful for both of us. Will he get that? Will he try?

Because I get him. How can we know for sure? Why would bad things continue to happen? Why do people who profess to know Him do the things they do?

But. All of that darkness. It indicates that there is light. There’s hope in the need for someone bigger than us. A personal relationship. A nothing-we-can-do-to-earn-it gift of pure, life-giving, love.

So, I’ll have faith. And I will love.

Making (Tentative & Bold) Plans

Alright, so now that I got that out of the way. We actually agree. On lots of things. But we’re both terrified. He’s scared he’s going to have to change. And I’m scared I’m not going to have control .

It’s laughable. A relationship without change, growth, adaptation, compromise, giving in…?

We’re hilarious really.

He’s nervous I won’t like his wild friends. I’m nervous he’s going to get plastered and embarrass me. Reality? I actually really enjoy going out. I haven’t had someone to do that with in a long time. Good drinks, fun people, dancing, music? I love it all. And, I’ve never actually heard of him drinking. Since we met, I’ve been the over-drinker. He’s stayed in most nights playing video games. And he got us a separate hotel room from his friends so that I would feel comfortable.

He over-explains his family. I get nervous that they’re heathens. Reality? They’re probably insanely lovely. I’m going to show them how funny, smart, and kind I find him. They’ll like us together most of the time, and sometimes, they’ll be confused because he’ll seem different. But, that is literally all relationships. When two people join, they make their own life together. Their own rules, traditions, rhythms. It’s okay. These people love him. And I lo…like him. We’ll get along.

I hate the distance part. He hates the distance part. Reality? We’ve each done our own thing for a long time. It’s actually not that far away. And if we stay together, being apart is completely part of that. More reality? We’re probably not that great at understanding each other on it so far. We REALLY like each other. But he’s hesitant to admit his feelings (see the scared of changing part) until I meet his friends and family. And I’m scared of being in a relationship (see the loss of control fear) and not being able to predict the outcome of all things. More reality? We’re still good to each other. We’re balancing it. We’re planning weekends: Memorial Weekend with his bff & his wife, and then a cookout with his family, then a ball in June, and then a whole week together. We’re flying in to Boston so I can show him what my life was there. Then traveling up the coast and “staying in bed and breakfasts and watching the sunrise on the coast!” (totallllllly wants a wild life…) of New Hampshire and Maine until we watch his friends get married.

We suck at this. Or maybe we’re normal.

Truly, I’m excited to find out.

This guy. He drives me nuts.

To Fall

What does it feel like to fall in love?
I haven’t been in love since I was 20. I haven’t fallen in love since I was 14. Eleven years for me to learn what love is. To understand that it’s sacrificial, biblical, big and heavy and life changing. And light and breezy and full of timing and circumstance.

I’m visiting my best friend (HLM) in the military town she lives in with her husband (J). HLM has always been brave at making new friends and bringing people together. I’m not surprised that she and J have made plans for a group of people to drive down to Austin together to see the USA national rugby team play Brazil. I’m wearing rolled denim shorts and a white breezy sleeveless top with a little cut out at the sternum. I feel pretty and easy. I briefly wonder if this is a set up. Its HLM+J, their married friends Captain America +Barbie, and their single friend Owen. Owen is personable and charming. He’s gregarious and funny and plays DJ in the front seat with Captain America and Barbie. Both of the married boys clearly admire him. Part of me is charmed and a little interested, but he’s not traditionally handsome. Maybe not exactly who I would go for. He also seems a bit like a partier. Fills his life with adventures to make up for a titch of insecurity. He barely looks at me, so I call it moot.

I focus on spending time with the girls. It’s fun to sit in the sunshine on blankets in the grass and watch huge men take each other out. We eat ball park food and gossip. It’s relaxing and one more reminder of why I’d love to live in a bigger city again someday. It was fun to learn about a new sport, meet new people, and bond over the loud lady that decided to sit too closely and put her feet all in my personal space.

We go to a little restaurant afterwards and get pizza and beers and listen to live bluegrass music with a bunch of older locals. Owen sits next to me and I perk up, “maybe he is a little tiny bit interested?” I ask him about himself, he answers but doesn’t really reciprocate. I drop it again. He must not be wanting anything to do with me in that way. I don’t even think he is interested in me in a friendly sort of way. The only time he really initiates anything is to tease me with J about a comment I made about how lucky we all were to grow up in loving families. Nope. Man, do I hate to be teased when I’m being genuine and open.

I head back to my hometown a few days later, still thinking about how he wasn’t interested. Why not? I’m smart and funny and cute. His friends like me. J told me that he had shown him a picture of me before and Own was like “Oh hey, who is that?” This doesn’t make sense.

I’m full of righteous pride and use my inherent sense that ALL men should love me to fuel this Facebook message reach out:

Owen! Was it you that was talking about The Man in the High Castle?

Well if it wasn’t than it should’ve been! I love that series!

Okay I thought I remembered correctly. I’m starting to watch it this week. Now I know who to yell at when I get too engrossed.

I guess I should prepare for the inevitable punishment because you’re going to be hooked. Fyi don’t bother reading the book. This is one of the few instances where the show is way better.

Perfect. I’m currently hooked on Chef’s Table on Netflix as well. And that’s good about the book. I have 4 books out from the library right now that I need to finish before I get fined. If they’re late I’ll just have them forwarded on to Owen, Infantryman Which Are The People That Everyone Else Supports, Army Town,TX, right? I don’t want to mess up that address and have it bounce back

Bahahaha you absolutely nailed it. It’ll get sent right to me! Along with the bill for your CD player and Jinko jeans because it’s 1998 and people still rent books from a library. I’m binging hard on some Shameless at the moment. Makes being poor look really cool.

Man! You must have been rich. 1998 I was rockin those spandex shorts and begging my dad to listen to his albums until my mom kicked us outside. And you leave me alone about the library! It’s a beautiful community resource, plus also, it makes me feel like it is 1998. You’re right.And I’ve heard good things. Emmy Rossum is super cute too.

I don’t think I got a CD player till 2003, but you can bet your ass I had some bitchin Jinko jeans. Libraries are obsolete, but I appreciate your quest for nostalgia. This show is becoming an obsession for me. And yea Rossum looks great for someone who appears constantly disheveled in the show

Pics or it didn’t happen. I appreciate your firm opinions. I would say I’m adding it to my list but I can only afford one new binge worthy show. I’ll be sure to let you know how large your bill turns out to be.

I’m sure my mom can dig up some dirt on me from back then. Definitely let me know what you think of High Castle. I just started a savings plan for your inevitable bill so I expect a riveting review
And then I left it. Oh you’re funny and smart? SO AM I you frustrating little man. I showed you didn’t I?!
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A week later a message pops up from him:
How’s your High Castle binge going? Do I need to take out a second mortgage on the house?

And then we didn’t stop messaging for 2 weeks…

Trivial Pursuit of my Heart? Brain? Apathy?

I play trivia on a Thursday nights with a bunch of my girlfriends from church. Earlier this summer I thought I recognized the host as the best friend to the almost pastor with a hint of Aspergers that I dated once or twice (he was nice enough but so not a good fit for me). After 2 beers in, I Snapchat Aspergers Pastor and ask him if Trivia Host is his friend-he snaps back and says to tell TH hi and how he loves him. I call TH over to our table and replay the snap. He goes “oh nice! Tell him I love him too. Who are you? How do you know AP?” 

“Uhhh we dated a bit. I’m LeDistraire”

2 weeks later I get a Facebook message from Trivia Host:  

I realize this is pretty informal and out of left field, but I was just wondering if you would be at all interested in going to dinner some time. No pressure. If you’re not interested, then you’re not interested and that’s perfectly fine. Just wanted to see if that would be something you’d like to do.

It was cute enough. He gets my number, calls me, and sets up a time to meet. 

I’m not super excited as he seems a little too goofy and gangly for me. I end up super late to our date as I’m at a wine tasting for work. I’m also a lil drunk. Turns out he doesn’t drink and he wants to be a youth minister. I literally don’t understand how you can do both of those things. He asks me question after question and seems nervous. He’s smart though and very witty. It’s a fairly nice date. 

But then I head off to Europe with my friend. I figured I’d let it fizzle. I’m off doing adventurous things and I know I want someone that can match me in boldness in life. It’s probably not Trivia Host. He doesn’t even like Chick Fil A sauce.

But then his friend, the other guy I dated, messages me. Basically begging me to give Trivia Host a chance because he’s witty and the nicest guy he’s ever known. So I do. We go on a few more dates. He makes a perfect playlist and sets up speakers and dances with me in the middle of a gazebo. I break his SIX YEAR KISSING DRY SPELL. I didn’t know that or I wouldn’t have. Yikes! He truly is witty and nice. I slowly start to feel less and less attracted to him though.

Eventually, I look at him and see a weeny. Someone that hunches his shoulders and makes goofy faces and never works out. He seems like a kid brother.

I end things. We stay friends. It’s the first time I’ve stayed friends with someone that was falling for me. I give him advice on other girls. He gives me a birthday present when I turn 25. Sometimes I wish that I could like him in a real way. I don’t. But I know that if that changes, i’ll have to “beg to get him back. I’m not some easy floozy ya know?” (his words).

So, anyone need a nice guy? 

No More Mr. Nice Guy

“Oh…so being from the other side of this equation 95% of the time, I just want you to know that you’re not allowed to say the things that you said. You can’t say ‘You can manage the store I’m going to open later in my life’. And you can’t say that you want to be the Dustin to my Stranger Things’ Eleven Halloween costume. You’re not allowed to make plans for our future. You’re not allowed to come over multiple times after I get back from vacation; you flirted with me, you asked probing questions, you had me make dinner for you. 

You laid on my bed and touched my body and let me touch yours. 

You can’t do that shit and then when I tell you ‘I like you. Just FYI. No defining the relationship or anything’, say, ‘Well, I’m still really messed up from my ex’. 

Were you messed up from your ex 15 minutes ago when you came in 20 seconds while getting head? Or were you okay enough to handle that?

You can’t be an asshole if you’re not an asshole. You can’t act like you’re moving towards a relationship and then back off and still be a nice guy. 

You’re officially not a nice guy.”

This is what I said to the Lion.

Except I didn’t. He said the “messed up from my ex” line. All I said was “Oh. I thought something was off.” Then I kissed his cheek and shut the door.

Fucking not a nice guy.