Until, of course, DJ came to visit. DJ was a college friend who embodied everything I was not – totally granola, spontaneous, unorganized, unkempt, didn’t need a stable job…great guy. Don’t they say opposites attract? DJ showed up at my door with some other college friends the night the sorority girls were having a sex toy party. DJ led a fairly sheltered life, where as my eyes had been opened to all kinds of, uh, sorority house antics. I probably looked horrified as DJ asked one of the girls to tell him about sex toys. Uh, yeah. DJ and I had a great weekend with our college friends. He even broke my bed. Wait a second…DRAG YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER!! He was trying to be funny and took a flying leap, only to find out that my bed was older than dirt, and in a big crash, the only thing collapsed to the ground. After the initial shock wore off, it was kind of funny.
Anyway, DJ came and went and still Winston was in the back of my mind. Always there, like it was meant to be. Or something.
Oh, and speaking of something, let’s not forget about Morty. Okay, so Morty isn’t his real name, but since I’m attempting anonymity, what else do you call a mortician? Yes, he was a mortician. He played with dead people. Formaldehyde, caskets, funeral parlors…the life every girl dreams of. Morty was (well, I guess he still technically is since he hasn’t died yet!) the cousin of a friend and everyone’s favorite mortician. Only problem – I couldn’t seem to bring myself into my ‘hood and avoid long distance dating. Morty lived a good 8 hours away. Morty and I were going to read the classics together…The Odyssey, David Copperfield, all the classics I had vowed to read by my 30th birthday. (FYI – 30 is rapidly approaching and I’m nowhere near that goal!) And just like that, Morty shot and killed any hope of a relationship…and buried it in the ground…okay, no more mortuary jokes.
And the vow happened again – no more dating! And there I was, only 23!
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