The Wrong Lesson

When I was younger, in 9th grade, I became infatuated with a Turkish gal who later got the nickname ‘Turkish Delight’, from a poem I wrote about her (out of a dozen or so!). I spent the whole year of 9th grade thinking about her, and when she discovered I liked her, she decided she didn’t really want to talk to me or hang out with me. I was crushed and it took me quite a while to recover from that, move on, and be interested in other girls like a normal human being.

I remember distinctly one day, whilst in the car with my parents, after much thought, thinking I came up with the answer.

What answer? Why the answer to my problem – a broken heart.

I proudly announced to my parents that I knew the answer, “The best way to not get hurt is to never fall in love.”

Without missing a beat my Father told me that was the exact wrong answer to gleam from my situation. Rather than never falling in love, the correct answer was in fact to be more discriminating with regards to with whom one falls in love with.

Of course I thought I was right, even if I admitted that my Dad was usually right about everything.

It’s funny, because it took me almost 9 years to remember this incident and to have learned the lesson for myself. It really makes me wonder what other wisdom that my parents passed on to me that I just…didn’t hear or listen to.

Makes me all the more grateful they’re still around.


My First Time

So – I’ve had posts on failures, improvements, thoughts, ideas, warnings, and even book reviews.

But I have almost zero success stories up.

So here’s the story of my first one.

The time I got my first lay was several years ago, on senior trip, right after school had ended for me, but just a week before graduation. We flew to the city of Hersonissos, on the Island of Crete for 7 days.

I don’t remember much of the trip. I was in a constant state of drunkenness – sometimes I was just less drunk than others.  Jet skiing drunk is fun too.

Most of my core group of friends had vastly more experience than me  and they were winging me like champs. We went from one club to another. I got a make out in one. A make out in another. And another. Finally when I was dancing and making out with one girl, I told her I was going to teach her some new dance moves. I said good-bye to my friends (with fanfare) and the girl said good-bye to hers. She was a mixture of Dutch and Indonesian and hat big tits and a nice ass.

We must have gotten back to my room early, because I later heard that at a certain point in the night, the hotel staff was checking people to make sure they belonged in rooms (cock/twat blocking).

When we got in – we first went to the shower. Mostly just making out there. Then we got to the bed. I was lucky that the room was separated into two rooms containing two beds each. The girl said she was a virgin – so I made her suck my dick first. I even ate her out a bit. Didn’t taste too bad – but she didn’t groom well. I haven’t gone down on a girl since. She was not very skilled with the blow job and needed frequent breaks. I tried to fit inside her but she was too tight and I drank too much so my dick was off. Meanwhile, I didn’t lock my door or put a tie over the handle so I got walked in on about 5 times. I didn’t care that much because I knew that every would talk about me getting laid (I suspect that only a few guys managed to get laid with a girl from Crete or otherwise not from our highschool).

I saw her the next night as well  and experienced minor improvement – but a combination of booze and performance anxiety didn’t make it as enjoyable as I thought it would. I still enjoyed talking with and kissing the girl, but I found that I actually enjoyed the gossip and high fives more than the sex. I didn’t hang out with her during the day – I let her go the next day and she left that night or something. Which was a shame because I felt bonded to her. For three days I didn’t think of the girlfriend I had back at school. I even went to her hotel to search her out. Pragmatically, I could have got a proper bang in.

But that was that. I don’t even remember her name. I just remember that I enjoyed her company and that she was beautiful.


All’s Fair in Love and War

I was going through some old files, and found this. A recording of an argument I had with an ex-girlfriend of mine, my senior year of high school  This was two years after she broke up with me and regretted it. I enjoyed this argument every second of it and really didn’t care how she felt, only that I was taking the piss and having a laugh. I also was working on one of her friends and knew that she knew about it.


Ex Girlfriend (X): u need to stop talking to my friends

Me: What?

X: u dont need to have conversations with my friends

dont talk to [redacted]

dont talk to [redacted]

dont talk to [redacted]

dont talk to any of them

if u have class with them sure say hi but i dont need to see you haveing conversations with jenn or anyone else

Me: hahaha

Are you serious?!

X: why do u need to be talking to the,!

Me: it’s not about need [Ex Girlfriend]

I talk to them because they’re fun to talk to

you’re jealous because you see me enjoying myself with other girls

if this bothers you

X: they dont want u to talk to them!

Me: then they can tell me that themselvess

X: they get that i dont want u talking to

X: they get that i dont want u talking to the,

Me: they’re big girls, they can tell me that if they want to

X: well can u not take it from me

girls dont talk to their best friends ex who made their life a living hell

Me: no

I don’t go out of my way to talk to them

and I will not go out of my way not to talk to them

X: they it shouldent be so hard for u to not talk to them is it/

X: they it shouldent be so hard for u to not talk to them is it/

im not saying that u completely ignore them obviously if their in the same class its only polite to say hi but that
s it

Me: And I am saying that I will continue to do as I please.

They are not just your friends, they are my friends as well

X: no their not stop talking to them

Me: It is their decision whether I am remain their friend, not yours

X: when did u become such a asshole

before we went out even sometimes when we were together

u were the most genuine guy i had ever met

Me: when did you become so controlling?

were you always this way?

X: this isent controlling

its not a big request that the guy i was in love with and then broke my heart to stop talking to my friends

Me: con·trolled, con·trol·ling, con·trols
1. To exercise authoritative or dominating influence over; direct. See Synonyms at conduct.
2. To adjust to a requirement; regulate: controlled trading on the stock market; controls the flow of water.
3. To hold in restraint; check: struggled to control my temper.
4. To reduce or prevent the spread of: control insects; controlled the fire by dousing it with water.

you are being controlling

X: It such a simple request!

Me: you are trying to control my interactions with your friends

X: exactly MY friends not yours!

Me: wait, so before I even met you, [redacted] was no friend of mine?

she was your friend even though I didn’t know it at the time?

are you fucking serious?

you are wasting my time with this stupid request because it makes you feel better?

And you won’t even admit that?!

X: jsut because u talked in pe together does not make u friends

X: jsut because u talked in pe together does not make u friends

do u honestly think i want to talk to u

i dont want u talking to me friends because then it may be a chance that i have to see u

Me: Friend:

1. A person whom one knows, likes, and trusts.
2. A person whom one knows; an acquaintance.
3. A person with whom one is allied in a struggle or cause; a comrade.
4. One who supports, sympathizes with, or patronizes a group, cause, or movement: friends of the clean air movement.
5. Friend A member of the Society of Friends; a Quaker.

oh no!

you may have to see me even though you don’t want to?

good heavens girl, you can move your freakin’ self

You used to be so much better than this

I saddens me to see what you have sunk to

X: so much better

u fucking did this to me

do u not get im fucking in love with u

and u dident even have the balls to break up with me u made me do it

and then u kiss me when im just getting over u*

is that fair?!

Me: All’s fair in love and war

*To clarify, this was during eleventh grade. I was working on a different girl and my ex that’re you’ve just read of, knew of that at the time. Still, I had not made any real progress in kissing the new girl, so I texted my ex to meet me at the staircase outside to hook up during exam week. When she got there I just kissed her.

“Is that all? That’s what you wanted?”


“I’m not like this.”

“Okay. Bye.”

She later spoke to me saying that she didn’t mind those kind of surprises but just didn’t want to be a booty call. I laughed about that for a while.


Reflections: My Past, My Present, and My Future

(Go ahead, I dare you. Read the post with the song playing)

I was discussing from one of my friends who I have helped unplug from matrix and get exposed to the manosphere things I’ve noticed about myself and others. I discussed some of my past how I’ve gone from socially maladjusted to socially competent to the point where I game nearly everyone.

We talked about several topics and I could not help but notice patterns, patterns that we both notice or share. In the interest of keeping him anonymous and exploring my own thoughts because I want to, I’ll withhold the patterns he shares.

I often feel like I’m on a different level than most people I know. I have a purpose in life and I have plan that gets fleshed out more and more as time passes and I come upon new opportunities. I have always felt that school was relatively easy or that there was someway to game it. When I was middle school in military school, I made straight As with three-year average GPA of 96.7 which made me the middle school Valedictorian. I was concerned that school was too easy and I missing something that would inevitably lower my grades by several degrees. Before military school, I never did homework but always did well on tests.

Throughout middle school, high school, and university I’ve never felt truly a part of any group. At most I have a group of friends who I am very close to with similar interests, but they are a level removed from my highest ambitions. I hope to bring them into the fold in the future, but they are doing just fine as it is. Accompanying these outsider feelings is my ability to hang out with almost any group of people and make friends with everyone. I frequently get along with a wide variety of people such that when hanging out with one group, they’ll denounce another group people I hang out with as douche bags or losers. Sometimes I play along and agree. Mostly I keep quiet or just laugh. I’ve got different levels of friends and I tell varying amounts of information to different friends. I rarely tell everything to any one friend, but spread my news, and if I may be so human as to complain, my complaints between my friends. A lot of the time I direct most of the controversial stuff towards my parents so my friends neither worry for me or think I complain much if at all.

I also noticed with my friend that I could help but notice that I felt some people were incredibly stupid. Accompanying these thoughts are feelings of superiority. I almost feel superior in intelligence, drive, and ambition to most people. I say almost because I dislike feeling superior to the point of being arrogant as I feel I am just waiting for hubris to derail my plans or my life, as it has many a great man or nation before me. I also recognize that people are not on the same level because they do not know, cannot see, and I better use my breath helping them see than mocking them from afar. I want to be the man with whom people rise up, not just one to take people down.

I used to have problems in my past due to bullying from different people at school to being belittled as oblivious, retarded, and unfunny as the youngest in my family. Parts of my Thal nature manifested themselves in how I viewed the world, confused with how it worked, and how I dealt with it. As my social competence increased and my natural understanding on how to manipulate my environment around me increased, these symptoms I experienced decreased and decreased until they faded from memory. I wondered last night why I couldn’t remember much of my childhood before sixth grade, before eight grade and I now think I know why. Somehow my new identity has repressed my old memories and feelings so that I do not regress to my old self. I almost refuse to read old poems I wrote for girls I liked because when I read those poems I feel the exact same feelings I felt when I wrote the poems.

In high school I went through a rebirth and transformed myself into a different version of me. I wore contacts in ninth grade and played contact sports. I was no longer self-conscious about my looks or my physical capabilities as I became know as the best tackler on the school’s JV and later Varsity Rugby team. I realized I could mold the world around me to my desires or benefit when I learned how to act towards teachers, faculty, and staff so that I got in little to no trouble when I got caught breaking the rules. I could walk around the dormitory drunk and the house parents never did anything because they either couldn’t distinguish whether I was drunk or being myself or didn’t care because I made good grades, stayed out of trouble, and was friendly with everyone. My last year, a girl who I got heavily involved with and I silently became the star couple of the dorm while it lasted.

I’ve gone beyond making my parents proud with my grades and my personal growth. I’ve never really been a problem child due to my innate nature and learning quickly from the mistakes of my siblings. And when I have been in some sort of boarding school environment since middle school, my parents are always happy to see me when I come home. Because I’ve never had to stay home for long periods of time (excluding some summers), I realize that I’ve never had to come to terms with any of the dysfunction in my family. When I do come home and see pieces of it, more obvious now that I have gotten older and can recognize it, I am at liberty to let it pass or deal with it as I please. I also realize that while I have an ability to fix some things, I cannot fix them all and I won’t try. I have come so far since my younger days that to deal with some older things would be to regress to my old self again. Today I realize that my family is not perfect, but I am happy with it. I enjoy the parts I like, avoid the parts I don’t like and know that with time, some things will get better.

Now I’m going through another transformation. I’m becoming more aware of the world around me and more comfortable in my ability to assess it for what it is and navigate it. My vision of my ultimate dream in life, to live on forever in human memory, is going from the abstract to reality and gets more tangible everyday. I am just starting on the precipice of getting where I want with women and getting where I want go further. Though I have much to learn and a huge journey in front of me, I look forward to it all. My transformation will not only be about women, though I will undoubtedly have large focus on them due to my libido. With a few new topics coming to the fore of my mind, ideas and opportunities that blow my mind, my development will be quite multifaceted.

With the state of my development and the development in the state of the world I both look forward to the future and dread it. I feel like I am in a race to realize my true potential and implement my designs before the world as I know it ceases to exist, and the rules change once more. The old Chinese saying, “May you live in interesting times” rings truer than John Donne’s Bell, which tolls for us all.


Just The Way It Is

If I had to choose a time or a definite moment, in which I started on the (red-pill) path I am on today, it would be in ninth grade. I remember I had heard about several law-suits in the U.S., specifically the one where the old woman sues McDonald’s for its coffee being too hot when she spilt it on herself and the lawsuit where a man sues McDonald’s for making him fat. I remember hearing that the state of Virginia has no more diving boards because people keep hurting themselves and suing the pools. I never particularly like McDonald’s or like swimming pools (with all their rules), but I thought those lawsuits were fucking stupid.

I knew something was wrong because, that was all bullshit and  that those people succeeded in their cases, disgusted me. I remember talking with my Dad about this – he said it was a case of people blaming the institutions for their own stupidity and not themselves. I realized that’s why pool’s lacked diving boards, why schools have lame-ass playgrounds (thank you helicopter parents), and why schools are so afraid to actually discipline kids.

I told my Dad that I thought those lawsuits were all B.S. and that the culture of sue this, sue that in the U.S. was wrong and asked how it got there. That’s when he told me, “Well, that’s just the way things are.”


Reflections: On Authority


I was raised by my father to respect and obey authority. His word was law. If I did not eat my peas…WHACK! I ate my peas. If I drew on the wall again after he told me verbally not to….WHACK! I never wrote on the wall again (or at least I stretched out the times I drew on the wall farther and farther until I stopped).

The interesting part, is that sometimes, I despise authority.

When I was in 2nd grade, I went to a catholic school run by nuns. There I became disillusioned with Catholicism or rather, Catholiscm became disillusioned with me. When I was in religion class, I asked a lot of questions. I had heard all of the stories they told me about Jesus before, so I got bored. I would contradict them and ask why this and why that. They went to my parents about the matter and eventually had me removed from religion class. I was supposed to get my confirmation, but they took me out of the class because I was bored and started playing around. From this, I saw that people don’t like their authority questioned, and they lash out. Looking at it now, I see the whole thing as petty.

When I was in 1st and 2nd grade at that school, I got picked on. Most of the time, my older sister cover my rear, so I was fine. It was that big of a deal. The year after second grade, I went to a different school and didn’t come back until 5th grade. This time, one of my best friends turned on me. He would walk across the courtyard during recess just to pick on me. He would pick on me in class. When I told the teacher about it, she just told him to stop. He would stop for a minute and then resume. When I told my parents about it, my Dad was going to teach me how to beat my “friend” up. But then my parents sent me to military school. They told me it was to help me with my grades, because I lacked the discipline to do homework (but had smarts to do well on test) and it was to help toughen me up. Looking back on all that, getting picked on was not bad at all. But at the time I thought it sucked. Even in military school, I saw interesting things. My roommate, picked on me all the time. He was at least two years older, bigger than me, stronger than me, and  was liked by all the staff. When I almost got kicked out of military school for how I was handling the bullying and get picked on, he was almost completely untouched by the whole thing, because all of the staff could not believe he would do such a thing as pick on me. I remember he was picking on me in class. I said, “Goddamit X! Fucking stop it.” The teacher told him to stop and yelled at me for my outburst.

What I learned from all that was that I could not trust people in positions of authority to fix my problems for me. Nowadays I don’t care if someone tries to pick on me or call me names. But if somebody starts hitting me, he better be a better fighter than I am. Otherwise I will react by beating him senseless. The good news is that I never got into a fight all of high school. I think I exuded this mind set in my body language so that nobody ever wanted to fuck with me (that and they called me military man because I went to military school).

In high school, something changed. I did not automatically give every teacher who taught me respect, just because they were my teacher. I remember in ninth grade, I had a fat history teacher. Something about his personality, whether it was his jokes, or attempt to be cool, or establish authority when he lacked the gravitas set me off. My first day at high school and in his class, he asked everyone to introduce themselves and tell him what our favorite candy. When it was my turn, I said, “Hell if I know.” He asked me if that was a good candy and if not, raising his voice, he said something to the effect of, I should watch my language and be respectful. At that point, I saw him as a joke. I joked around with him class all year long, alternating between laughing at him and laughing with him so he was never sure what I was trying to do. I told him loudly in October that he should dress up as Peter Griffin from Family Guy for Halloween. He was not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. I meant it as an insult but pretended I was complimenting him. Everyone in the class laughed and knew what I was doing.

It was no better when we had substitute teachers (subs). In fact, it was worse. There was this sub, who I’ll call Miss D.. Miss D. was an Indian sub who was famous for telling “her students” to rub their stomachs and pat their heads simultaneously in order to calm themselves down. I could tell right away from meeting her that she couldn’t teach. I once had an English class with her. I toyed with her and when she finally understood I was making fun of her, she told me to go outside….which was exactly what I wanted. Outside of class I finished the assignment the teacher left behind quickly and started listening to music on my iPhone loudly so that people in the class could hear me. She came outside, saw me laying on the ground with my hands behind my back and told me to turn the music off and come back inside. All my friends enjoyed hearing that story.

My junior year, I had an AP English who could not teach. She gave out easy As and her quizzes were jokes. But she could not teach. Sometimes she would ramble on and on and on and on. I made a game of how much I could distract her from class or argue with her on things I didn’t agree with. I often got in many arguements with her. I often made fun of her. I often joked with her. And just to cover my bases and confuse her even more, I apologized once when I felt I went too far. We became “friends” and I even got her to write me good college recommendations. People, including me, complained that they were not learning anything. I think the school asked her not to come back next year.

I learned to dislike incompetence in authority. If I felt a teacher was less competent than I was, I thought she didn’t deserve to be a teacher. As I was getting older, I was realizing that adults are not the infallible creatures I thought they were.

Looking back on it, it looks as if I could sense a teacher had no authority, I would rip them to shreds. Why do I have to listen to her, I thought. She’s just a substitute teacher. She can’t teach. Why I am here?

When I was in the dorm, I got in trouble for telling a friend about what happened to me in military school. He got scared and told the school. Long story short, I got counseled, was ordered to go to a psychologist for a year a half. Part of the reason why I stayed the school was because one of dorm house parents (people who live within the dorm who teach or run the dorm) put in a good word for me. I made a point to always be friendly with the house parents, joke around with them, and tell them the truth. That way, if I really needed to lie or got in trouble, I could away with it. I started doing this with teachers as well my sophomore year, unless I sensed that the teacher was weak.

I almost always challenge authority and ask questions of people who want me to do things, especially if I do not like the tasks or things they demand of me. My respect is earned, not taken from me.

I feel like what I do to people in authority is similar to what girls do to guys (shit-tests anyone?)


Shots, Shots, Shots

I don’t remember very much when I was younger, but I do remember getting shots. I hated getting shots. Every now and then I would get dragged to the doctor to get shots. My sister too. She was plied with pet goldfish and I was plied with ice cream. It still didn’t change the fact that getting shots sucked.

Nowadays, I still hate shots. I don’t hate them because they hurt, I hate them because they don’t help and some cases cause harm. The worse kind of shots are vaccines, because while the doctors claim these shots will heal you (if you have a disease) or prevent you from getting infected, these shots actually hurt you worse than the diseases you are trying to prevent yourself from getting!

I have taken shots for specific diseases for travel. When I went to Africa, my family and I all got shots for Malaria and another disease (my memory is hazy on this one). I took shots in high school for the flu and I remember girls getting offered HPV shots.

At the time I didn’t know about the truth about vaccines. Now I do. I refuse to take any shot that is a vaccine or some other drug that I do not know about (morphine might be okay). When my university offered flu vaccine shots, I refused to take one. I had to read some bullshit information about the dangers of not getting the vaccine and I had to sign off (that I did not receive the vaccine) before I was allowed to leave.

A brief history for context. I was born 3 months pre-mature and bear a scar across my stomach that constantly reminds me. For a long time when I was young I got sick often, I got constipated, I took a lot of allergy medication. When I moved to France for six years, I got a stomach virus and was sick for a whole month in the first year. I had three asthma attacks stretched over three years. When I went to military school, things changed. I got more active; I was required to play a sport. I was in the country with fresh air and the barracks was quiet at night (as opposed to the city) so I got better sleep there than I did at home. The food wasn’t the best (it seemed as if everyone in the corps got diarrhea one month!) but it was varied and I could make my own sandwiches at the salad bar (which was excellent!). I made peanut butter and honey sandwiches all the time. Fast forward to high school. I get hay fever every year and I get the cold in January. What’s the common denominator? I almost never get sick. Never. It’s the same with my dad. He never gets sick. When he goes to the hospital for any check ups, all the doctors tell him that his organ make him look like he is in his forties (he is in his sixties).

When I truly got sick once in eleventh grade, I had a cold and it lasted for 1 day. One day! I’ve talked to a friend at my university who talked about how he would take a week (or longer!) to get over the common cold. I could not hide my disbelief.

I commented on Bill’s post:

I believe the best medicine is good sleep, good food, and exposure to sunlight.

Interesting how hospitals give you crap food and keep you out of the sun (they try with the beds, though). Plus, cooping sick people up with sick people (giving birth in a hospital?!) is not a good idea in my book. The reason why so many people get sick in cities (history class) and in barracks and dorms (personal experience) is because of the proximity of everybody to everybody and their sicknesses.

My family has a saying, “If you want to live to 100, pick your parents and stay out of the hospital.”


Post Script: I also subscribe to the belief, “As you think, you shall become”, in that I refuse to get sick. Whenever I am sick, I do not distress the pain. I get angry that my body has gotten weak, that I have to take time off from doing things I want or need to do.

Reflections: Military School and the Purple Pill

I went to military boarding school in the U.S. for three years during middle school. My parents told me they me sent me there because I was intelligent, but lazy, and my messy room and grades in school reflected that.

There were a few negatives in that I did get bullied and almost got kicked out trying to do something about it, but overall going to military school was good for me. I made good friends, one of whom is still my best friend to this day. I became more disciplined and organized, making straight As for the first time in my life and graduating middle school as Valedictorian of my middle school class. I became more confident for having gone through military school, made good grades, and doing way better than my ‘bully’. The negative stuff even turned out to be a positive. The ‘bullying’ I got toughened me up and the teasing taught me to differentiate between insults and jokes (I used to take everything seriously). My “bully” even encouraged me to wrestle and play football my final year in which I did very well. My finest moment was when I was on the defense during kickoff and sprinted to the field because I didn’t realize I was supposed to be on the field. The other team redid kick off and I sprinted as fast as I could. I tackled a blocker, who fell back with enough momentum that he took out the ball carrier and stopped the play.

In military school I learned basic social graces and how to not be a complete pussy. By the time I got high school in another English-speaking country, I was just a little socially awkward. The lack girls in my military school hindered my experience (compared to a lot of kids today) and made my first week or two, very fun weeks (I ogled every single pretty girl I could). As I was learning how the place was like, wondering why people seemed to be intimidated by me (I was also afraid of no one), I started to realize something. I was being too nice. If someone asked me a favor, I would do it without expecting to gain from it. I used to bake brownies from ninth to tenth grade and feed them to the dorm or my classes (they really liked me for that). At dinner I would take up all the trays and forks and knives from the table to the tray and people told, “Hey man, you don’t need to do that!” When prodded for information, I told one guy about a part of military school in middle school, and he got scared and told our high school (which almost kicked me out). I was starting to learn that I had to be very careful of who, if anyone, I could trust, and that if I was too nice, people would take advantage of me.

I stopped being as nice and started to think more in terms of, “what’s in it for me?” when people asked for favors. I divided people into two groups: close friends, and everybody else. I was still pretty nice to my close friends, but lately I have realized that even they took advantage of me to some extent to (I’m not completely sure of to what extent by whom just yet). In a way, I swallowed a purple pill, a vital change that directed me on the path I am today.


Kiss Me I’m Irish

A curious thing about my tenth grade is that when I had a girlfriend and a girl on the side, I didn’t act to make either happen. They just did. At the time I had not yet discovered game. I did, however, witness its effects which would provide crucial experience for me to accept game theory even though I was unable to recognize it in front of my very own eyes.

For my girlfriend (we’ll call her Irish) in 10th grade, it started in January. She came into my gym class. I was tease her and laugh whenever she fell during tennis/dodge ball or mess up. I was friends with her friends and flirted with them a lot (though at the time I would not call it flirting). I had flirted with the Latvian until it burnt out (I blew it up due to inexperience in flirting). When it did, she called me her brother or something. I took it in stride, dominated the frame as her “older brother” and started flirting with her other friend (we’ll call her Midget), who was short, had curly hair, and had big tits.

I don’t know how it started exactly, but Irish started hanging with Latvia, Midget, and I. At first it was just in gym class. Then it was hanging out in the hallways during the 5 minute break in between sections of physics class. I remember she started to hug me good-bye. I remember that right before a ski trip (Switzerland) in February, she hugged me goodbye and clasped my hands before I left to my dorm.

Before coming back I noticed a message in my Facebook inbox. It read, “I need to talk to you when you get. It is about us.” She sent me that message right before Valentine’s day so I had a good idea of what our ‘talk’ was going to be about. We talked on Facebook and she told me that she liked me. I told her that I didn’t feel the same way, but that I was willing to go with her to the dance ‘as friends’.

When I got to Irish’s friend’s house to pick them up before the dance, I could hear whoops of delight as I rang the door bell. The Latvian, her date, and the Midget greeted me at the door. We took a couple of pictures and off we went.

When we got to the dance floor I didn’t dance with Irish right away. I would dance around her, dance my way across the dance floor with an amused look on my face, dance with another girl I was friends with (who I later realized wanted me at the time), dance right up to Irish and dance right back away. I was having a good ol’ time and didn’t care what else happened so long as I had my fun.

I remember dancing the friend a second time grinding with her and feeling eyes on me. Sure enough, as soon as our dance ended Irish snatched me away and started grinding on me to Akon’s ‘Bad Girl’ song. We grinded. We danced slow. We grinded. We danced slow. In the middle of one of the slow songs Irish kissed me. We made out for a while, danced more, and then made out until the end of the dance.

At the end of the dance she asked me, “So what does this mean?”

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

There’s a lesson in here somewhere. Oh yes. If a girl wants you, she’ll find a way.

That is what this experience taught me.