Bridget Jones has nothing on me December 10, 2008

Now, I know we haven’t updated this page in far, far too long.  Long story short, we are living in the eastern suburbs of Sydney, we have a house (that’s its own post), and we’re both working at bartenders at Irish bars (which are located only a block away from each other).

Kristy currently has a boyfriend (which as you might imagine, requires about 8 posts of its own, but I’ll let her handle those).  I however, have therefore been having to make enough poor decisions for the both of us (no small feat if you saw her performance with the baby Sig Eps last semester).  But if I do say so myself, I have been doing a pretty decent job, considering I’m holding down a job and trying to make aforementioned decisions on weeknights, since I work every Friday and Saturday (hurrah, midweek moves!)

Making poor decisions here is proving a little more precarious than at school, however.  At Richmond, my lack of Greek affiliation allowed me to somewhat fly under the radar as not many people actually knew who I was (not all of us can be as obnoxious popular as Kristy).  But here, people know who I am because I am the blonde, American bartender at the local pub.  This has made me slightly paranoid, but so far I don’t think any of my bad choices know each other (thank god) although I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until I make a nice little reputation for myself.

This particular story starts about 3 weeks ago.  One of my coworkers had been seeing an Irish guy for a few weeks and he came into the bar with one of his friends.  His friend (“A”) tells my coworker (“E”) that he thinks I’m really cute (duh) and that he’s interested in me.  At this point, I don’t think much of it (he’s just another Irish guy who can add his name to the list of regulars who want a piece of this, you know what I’m saying?)

About a week later, we (some of the girls I work with) go over to said Irish boys’ house to pregame.  We’re all hanging out and I decide that maybe this “A”  boy is actually pretty cute and that it would not be entirely unpleasant to make out with him.  The boys all decide to stay at the house while the girls go to the pub, but “A” (jesus, I feel like gossip girl with the initials) tells “E” that she should bring me back to the house with her later when she comes back (the pub is only open til 12 on weeknights).

So, yada yada, we go to the bar and then grab a pizza (had to happen). And by that time, it’s 1 am so when we go back to the house, everyone is already in bed.  Now, I was under the impression that everyone would still be up and hanging out, so I’m preparing to just leave and take a taxi home because I am not in the mood to sleep on a couch in a house full of strangers.  But “E” goes into “A’s” room and asks him if I can crash with him, and he says it’s fine as long as I’m not drunk.  And believe it or not, people, I am actually not drunk at all.  Not even a little.  And he is totally sober.  So, naturally sharing a bed and all there’s some making out and fooling around but nothing serious (yes, I am a massive American tease, deal with it).

In the morning I wake up, and it’s about 10 am (Thanksgiving Day– I am thankful for general sketchiness) and I decide its time to peace out.  I am in the middle of one of my patented Alicia move of just sneaking out (HIT IT AND QUIT IT) without saying goodbye (if he really likes me, he knows where to find me), putting on my shoes in the living room, when there is a knocking at the front door.  What do I do?  It’s not my house, but at some point I am going to have to go out the door.  And the knocking isn’t stopping.  Fuck, he’s going to wake up.  and sure enough he does, and after signing for the delivery he notices me, standing fully dressed, just about to bolt.

A: So, you were just going to leave without waking me up?

Me: Nooooo, I was going to come in and say goodbye on my way out but I left my bag in here.  (The part about the bag was true, and I did debate waking him, but, honestly, I was just thinking about a rapid exit strategy).

And then he offered me tea (aww) but I told him I had to go home and make Thanksgiving dinner (true).  So we had about a 2 minute chat and I peaced out, and then realized he didn’t ask for my number (hm) but I was willing to let it go because he told “E” on several occasions that he was interested in me.

So, I didn’t see him for over a week and then on Sunday, I was doing a lovely Sunday Session (classy Australian for “drinking all day”) and I ran into him.  And to be honest, I was pretty pissed (see how fluent I am in Australian?) so I don’t remember much of the conversation except for him informing me that he had a GIRLFRIEND.  At which point I get a little emotional (that’s right, I, Alicia, got EMOTIONAL over a silly BOY.  What can I say?  I had been drinking all day. It happens.)  And then my friends decided that shots would be a good idea (whatever your problem is, shots are NOT the solution.  Just say no.)  That’s about when everything goes into complete, total, utter, old-school-Sophomore -year-style blackout.  Oops.

So the next day I had to work and he was in there drinking for hours (hours!) with his friends.  And I’m still worried about the after effects of my blackout.  I know one of my friends told him off (not sure how coherent it was) which means he knows I was at least somewhat upset over him.  Did he see me get emo?  Angry?  Oh god, who knows what I said or who I said it to?  We all know how I shoot off at the mouth after a few too many.  I bet I made an ass of myself.  ARE ALL HIS FRIENDS STARING AT ME?  THEY ARE.  I bet he told them I am some sad, desperate girl throwing myself at him. WHY DO I DO THIS?  I AM going to die alone.  And who the hell does he think he is, coming in here and sitting there?  Has he no shame?  WHY THE FUCK DO THEY ALL KEEP LOOKING AT ME.

In fact, one of the guys he was with even came up to get drinks from me and said, “So, I bet you had a hangover this morning?”  Fuck.  Really must say no to shots. Or drinking all day.  Or drinking on an empty stomach.  Or all of the above, really.

I get off of work about 2 hours after he gets there and run out the door.  Its only when I get home that I see that all my makeup has come off throughout the course of the day and that I look like a complete trainwreck.  I look like the embodiment of a hard night of drinking followed by 8 hours of work.  Brilliant, way to show him what he’s missing out on.

And then last night, I got off of work and met up with a friend (I had changed and added some concealer, thankfully) and we run into him AGAIN on the street.  I don’t see the asshole for 10 days when I actually want to see him after we makeout and then after getting humiliated, I see him every single fucking day.  This is so typical to my life it’s not even funny.

So, in order to prevent getting a whorish and/or embarrassing reputation around town and with all the locals, I have sworn off Irish guys.  Kristy has also sworn off drinking for the month of December (excepting Christmas and New Years Eve) so we’ll see who cracks first.  Sadly, I think it’s probably going to be me.  I’m sorry, I have needs and I never meet any Australians because we’re always hanging out in Irish bars during the week.  What am I supposed t0 do, develop standards?  Not likely.