Dear Squinty-Eyed Pig Face Girl,
We haven’t known each other long, in fact we may never see each other again, but I feel the need to give you a little warning. I know you’re young and having fun, but a few of the things you do make you seem a little desperate, and that might get you a bad reputation.
I met you last night at the hot tub in our apartment complex, and I’m pretty sure you don’t remember very much of what happened there. Your face was abnormally small and took up a much smaller percentage of your head than a normal person’s. And as much as that scared me, it wasn’t the worst thing about you.
My roommates and I were relaxing after the bar, drinking a few beers and having a enjoying a soak– and then you showed up.
You and your friends had obviously been drinking heavily. The wandering wall the four of you formed was clearly constructed in an attempt to keep all of you on your feet. Arms were interlocked around waists and over shoulders and seemed to clutch a little tighter with every change of direction. You brought a bottle of tequila and a stereo and our quiet night was over.
As obnoxious as your singing, dancing and music was, it wasn’t that bad. You sang about kissing girls, liking it and just kept dancing around with a bottle in your hand. Now, the tub is free for everyone to use, and you have just as much right to hangout there as I do. You having a good time wasn’t my problem.
We talked for the first time when you, while dancing on the deck, and clearly not in the water, started shouting at us to turn the jets on and, “Make it super bubbly!”
“Yeah turn the jets on,” I shouted at one of my friends. “I can’t dance around the hot tub without bubbles.” You were not amused.
A few minutes went by, you danced some more, did a few shots and I continued to sit in the tub and drink my beer. You finally decided that since you walked all the way over to the tub, you might as well get in the water and picked a seat right next to me.
Seeing as I had had a good night up until this point I introduced myself and tried to apologize for my comment about the bubbles from earlier so there wouldn’t be any animosity.
“I’m sorry I made fun of you,” I said.
“I’m sorry I called you an a**hole,” you responded.
“I didn’t know you called me that.”
“Oh, well I did. You’re an ass.”
Fair enough. I do have a tendency to make fun of people whether they’re my friends or not and occasionally I do come across as a jerk to those few who lack a good sense of humor. I shrugged it off and figured we wouldn’t be talking anymore. No skin off my back. I still didn’t even know your name.
Maybe 10 or 15 minutes later, I jumped into the pool to cool off a little and get away from the mess that was forming in the hot tub. I was resting on the edge of the pool talking to a roommate when I was informed I had a visitor. I turned around and you were right there. I’m not gonna lie you were creepily close—less than a foot away and I was trapped against the wall—and your beady little eyes just kept staring.
“Hi,” I said.
“I don’t normally do this, but I guess I’m just feeling brave tonight,” you said. Tequila does wonders for one’s courage. You moved even closer and asked me what my name was.
I wasn’t interested, but I respected the fact that you made the first move. I introduced myself for the second time and we talked for a little while about school, the buildings we lived in and our plans for the summer. You slurred and stumbled your way through the conversation, then moved closer still and put an arm around my waist.
“You know, it’s been really nice talking to you, but I’m just trying to hang out with my friends tonight,” I said while gently moving your arm. “I’m getting kind of cold; I think it’s time for the tub again.” I climbed out of the pool and took a seat in the warm water between my roommates.
I thought I handled the pool pretty well. I tried to be as nice as possible and give you the hint I wasn’t interested, but you must have missed it, or ignored it, or forgot about it because the next three times I went to the pool to cool off you followed and cornered and talked. Each time I was a little less talkative and tried to get away quicker, but still you pursued. Just a little tip here, that’s not attractive.
On my fourth and final trip to the pool I was again resting on the edge and talking to a friend when you crept up behind me. I knew you were there because my roommate started to laugh.
“Turn around,” he told me.
“I don’t want to,” I said.
“Turn around for me, it’ll be funny.”
In the end I turned and tried one last time to tell you I wasn’t interested. I then got out of the pool dried off and got my stuff together to leave.
“Yurr a cherk,” you told me as you got out of the pool. “Yurr missin’ out. And a a**hole.”
You just kept getting classier and classier and topped the night off with that little cherry. Maybe you shouldn’t drink quite so much. Alternately passing out in the hot tub and waking up to stalk me around the pool are not things you should be proud of, or actions that should be repeated.
I’m terrible at reading the signs and taking hints, and not one to judge for doing the same thing, but this was a whole new level.
Then again, who knows, maybe I didn’t handle this as well as I thought and I really am just a big old cherk. It’s not something we’ll ever know for sure though, because only one of us remembers that night.