So now that formal happened, let me give you a breakdown of what went down.*
- I spent over 2 hours doing my hair and makeup.
- I sat in my room reading a book when I heard a quiet knock on my door.
- He is so beautiful. He looked really hot.
- He was wearing a blue tie.
- We walked over together.
- It was magical.
Pregame: It was amazing!
- When we came down the stairs, everyone was looking at us. Mostly me. It probably has to do with the fact that I’m pretty well-known and looked good. If I were them, I would have been looking at him.
- Took pictures with all my friends and him, obviously
- He made me lots of drinks. <3
- Unfortunately, I decided that I would get as drunk as possible before actual formal so that I would stay drunk the entire time. Therefore, I thought it would be a good idea to have around 4 shots and 2 mixed drinks, one of which had approximately 4 shots.
- By the time we got on the bus, I was pretty hammered and didn’t drink too much of the champagne he brought for the ride.
Formal: Super fun but also… ugh.
- Well, I got there.
- I don’t remember getting or eating dinner.
- I danced with him a lot, in a very slutty manner. I also danced with my friends
- Don’t remember what happened next.
- Lots of throwing up in the bathroom. At one point, he took off the elastic on my wrist and put my hair up. Romantic, given the context?
- My friend later told me we were being “so cute” at the end. Apparently we were in a corner and I was sitting on his lap. There’s a picture of this I don’t remember taking.
- At least I managed to stop throwing up before the bus ride home.
- On the ride home, he insisted on uploading a picture of us and commented random things under my name.
- He walked me home and watched me go up the stairs.
- My roommate asked me what I had for dinner. I called him. We had rice, chicken and pasta, and “you didn’t eat very much.”
I wish I didn’t black out and could remember everything that happened. I wish I could have remembered every bit of being with him.
*HA that rhymed, get it? Get it?
Also, he’s coming to pick me up. Because I told him to.
God, this is too good.
I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe I’m going to formal with him.
Don’t get too excited though; I know I already am. But I think we are just going as friends, since he asked me the day before. It was so strange. We were about to split up to go to our respective classes, and he looks at me and asks, “Wait, Emma. Will you go with me to formal tomorrow?”
It was so, so strange because I’ve been dreaming about this happening for so long. But yesterday, all I could think when he asked was that I already had plans. My friends and I were suppose to have this awesome fun girls night in. I told him this, and he just said, “No, you are GOING with me to formal.”
I told our friends, and his roommates were surprised and making a big deal out of it.
So. I don’t know. But I am really excited because this date might help me figure out why I still like him so much. Or, I could decided that I actually don’t want this anymore. I’m also excited because I get to be with him.
And my dress? It’s pretty slutty.
I can’t believe I’m writing this drunken post at 3:16 in the morning, but I think I’m in love with you. I’ve always felt that you were very unreliable and careless, but you have always done things that change my mind. Walking all the way to my room to comfort me. Buying me breakfast during finals. And today, when I saw you walking someone home.
Whenever you do these things, I feel my heart drop. I feel it drop deeper into the void that is falling in love with you. It’s so hard to get out; I’m in so deep.
Tomorrow (/today), I will be seeing that beautiful boy in my class. I have my outfit picked out, but right now, all I care about is you.
Only you. It hurts, how much I want you.
I’ve been getting really into Ingrid Michaelson lately.
"It’s about how you’re like a lighthouse, always searching far into the distance. But the thing you’re looking for is usually close to you and always has been."-Susane Colasanti, Waiting For You
There is this adorable boy in my class. He’s absolutely beautiful; imagine a mix of Matt Bomer, Orlando Bloom, and Paul Wesley, and you’ve got him. So naturally, I am completely obsessed, and he’s probably caught me looking at him in class way too many times. He’s said hi to me twice, which actually sounds really pathetic. As in, Mean Girls, “On October 3rd, he asked me what day it was” pathetic.
I talk about him incessantly to my friends.
But as usual, there’s a problem, besides the fact that I don’t know how to get this guy to like me back. That I can handle. The problem is that I think I’m trying to focus too hard on liking him, because the reality is, I’m still not over the guy from last year.
I don’t know. I really truly thought I had moved on during the summer. But now I’m here, and he’s here, and I don’t know how to stop liking him. He has a way of getting under my skin.
Why me? Why can’t I fall for some cute boy who likes me back? Why can’t he think I’m hot, like the SUPER POPULAR HOTTEST BOY ON CAMPUS does?
I kept denying it to myself, but it bothers me when he doesn’t sit with me in class or walk with me to our next classes which happen to be in the same place. It bothers me that we’re not as close as we used to be. It bothers me that he asks other friends to play ____ with him instead of me.
Sometimes, I just want to hook up with him and get it out of my system. But I can’t because I might become attached. That’s my number one rule. Never hook up with someone I like. ”Like” as in have a crush on.
How do I stop liking him? The only temporary fix I have is imagining my heart as stone and quashing the feelings that rise up.
Yes, it’s that bad.
I didn’t get into the sorority I wanted.
I’ve wanted to be in a sorority since high school. I know the usual criticisms leveled at it: ”you’re just paying for friends”, “too cliquey”. But for me, joining one is the right choice.
Maybe if I played a varsity sport here, greek life wouldn’t be a big deal. It would be just like high school then. My track and cross country teams were such a great community, and the daily practices have helped me find some of my best friends. If you were an athlete, you’d understand. In the school hallways, you walk straighter and look prouder because you are varsity athlete of this school and you work hard and people look up to you as a leader. I had a Big when I was younger and had a Little when I became a senior. I’ve coached younger girls and had the honor of being their role models, remembering when I used to look up to the best girls on the team. Back then, I was known as the top student who was “really good at track, right?”, friends with everyone, president of clubs, voted “Most Likely to Succeed”.
It’s different now. Everyone’s smart. I’m talking actual geniuses here. CEOs of their startup companies soon to be the Next Big Thing. Private school kids with massive trust funds. And me? Just another grain of sand on the beach.
More importantly, I’m not a varsity athlete anymore, and when I see others with their [college] duffle bags and team jackets, I feel an incredible amount of envy. And I projected my wish of being on a team onto rush and its promise of a strong sisterhood much like my beloved running teams.
I won’t get into the complicated and, frankly, painful details of rush, but the main point is that I dropped out.
I know that I am going to rush again, but three months seems so, so long. I’m happy for my friends, especially for one that is very happy with what she got. But I can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt to see girls walking around with ribbons in their hair and sorority bags and hearing about upcoming events. Because I can’t help but think that that should be me, too.
As my friend and I walk out into the rain after lunch, her crush walking behind us calls out, “[my friend], sorority girl.” So I leave them.
It’s not hard to imagine me being made fun of for being in a sorority by some of my friends. Me, Emma Walker. Emma Walker, sorority girl. But I’m not.
I’m just me. Just Emma Walker, one of the most talked about freshmen last year, nobody this year. Emma Walker, a non-athlete, an unaffiliated, regular person, top of her class in high school but just another run-of-the-mill [college] student, who doesn’t have sorority-fraternity parties or greek letters on her bags or a ribbon in her hair.
Oh, how I wish I did!