I think I may have found a new definition of
bad luck at the bar tonight.
I met someone. He's really cool. He's an outdoorsy kinda person, very much into hiking and beaches and rollerblading. We had a three hour conversation at the bar, with the music blaring and people interupting us. At the end of the night, he asked for my phone number and email address.
I had decided that I was going to find a someone to be my new exboyfriend. Someone interesting, but not all that interesting. A nice fling for the summer. It was going to be tonight. Last night, things were bad at the bar. Tonight, things were going to be better. I almost wish they hadn't been.
Sadly, predictably, as if the universe had planned it, I found out his age. He's nineteen (which is probably too young for my twenty five). He's still in high school too, and (as if the universe hadn't been sadistic enough) he already has a boyfriend. They met a week ago. I think I'm going to give up and be single for the rest of my life.