by David Ingber
Everyone in the office is going for drinks tonight; you in?” David asked Reena hopefully, having sat next to her for four months with no idea of how to transition their playful banter into a more substantive relationship without Reena’s asshole boyfriend finding out.
“Want to be my partner in Coke and Pepsi?” David asked Courtney way too enthusiastically at Josh Green’s Bar Mitzvah.
“So Rick’s mom is driving four of us to see Donnie Darko on Friday. Wanna get three of your friends to come with us? We can sit eight across and make out during the movie. Our friends will make fun of us the entire Minivan ride home!” David blurted out at Eileen on Monday, with awkward plans of not speaking with her again before Friday.
“I have a muthafuckin’ driver’s license!!! Hop in my mom’s Camry with 124,000 miles on it! Oh wait, I can’t drive with anyone else in the car for another 12 months. Let’s instead go to our houses and IM with each other for the next seven hours,” David suggested to Laura, embarrassingly pumped about the plan.
“I have a muthafuckin’ driver’s license, Part II. Let’s drive to that parking lot where everyone goes when there are no good parties. We can talk about how awesome college is gonna be while our friends drink vodka from a water bottle,” David IM’d to Laura, who was already wearing her PJs and politely declined.
“Holy shit. Holy shit. College! No parents! I really should be saying suave/charming/friendly things right now but I literally cannot get over the fact that we both have dorms,” David said to Kelsey, immediately prior to learning that they had both been sexiled from their respective dorms.
“Hey, I really enjoyed your insightful comment about Foucaultian idealism in our Aestheticism and Post-Structuralist Literature class. Would you be interested in attending the Pimps ‘n Hos party in the Quad tonight with me?” David asked Lindsay, having never heard of Foucault until the day before.
“No, you see, I’m just tutoring SAT students while I work on my own projects. But it’s kinda fulfilling, I have to say,” David yelled to some person he just met in a crowded bar who wasn’t interested.
“Everyone in the office is going for drinks tonight; you in?” David asked Reena hopefully, having sat next to her for four months with no idea of how to transition their playful banter into a more substantive relationship without Reena’s asshole boyfriend finding out.
“I have disposable income,” David tacitly implied to every blasé OKCupid date by picking up the tab, all while yearning for a time when butterflies filled his stomach each time he talked to someone of the opposite sex.
“want 2 hang out tmrw,” David lazily texted that woman he met at that thing, even though he had drunkenly ranted to his friends for an hour the night before about how we all need to reject technology in favor of forging more meaningful human connections.
“Why on Earth are you sitting alone during this slow song?” David will ask Courtney at Josh Green’s wedding next summer. He hopes she will look up and smile. And for the first time in years, he’ll be nervous.
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