Tag Archives: Boys


22 Oct

The New Student Orientation was like EFY for college students. From the tacky colored wristbands to the awkward get-to-know-you games right on down to the multiple mosh-pit (sober) dances, it felt like camp all over again. I met many girls, and a few guys. I became pretty close with the Y-group leader, who we call Jimbo, and a girl called Gaps. Jimbo took Gaps and I to dinner off-campus–we were that cool. The guy was an upperclassman, with perpetually slicked-back blackish hair and a cheesy smile. We went to a small Salvadorian place, since he served his mission in El Salvador. The unpretentious little woman who took our order smiled with recognition and spoke Spanish to him.

NSO ended and I still hadn’t met my roommate. The girls in my hall were nice: Apple had already met some boy and Kiara… well, hadn’t. Kiara and I lived off of Apple’s stories of dates and holding hands. When we were alone, we discussed how we simultaneously were overjoyed and distraught at her success.
We all got antsy for church to start. The infamous student wards were mysterious to us. Rumors abounded of a wonderful place where you meet your man while learning about your Maker. I had Facebook-stalked most of the boys in our ward, but it was no substitute for really seeing and talking.

Sunday was like any other day: I met many girls and talked to a few guys. Curse the 2:1 ratio at this school. I did meet my roommate, though. Tay is sweet, pretty, intelligent, funny. At first I worried that she would get all the guys. So far that hasn’t happened, so I can laugh and moan with her at our boy failures.

Sunday night, though, was ward prayer. I went down to the lobby of my hall, where we were told to meet, in comfy clothes. Comfy, as many of you know, is girl-talk for ugly. To my chagrin, everyone looked cute. Including the–is THAT what a boy is? I hadn’t seen one for so long, I’d forgotten. A short intro speech by the Bishop, a few announcements, a talent (two people sang and ukelele-d), a hymn and a prayer. And then… magic. We talked to BOYS.

I half fell for a blond boy (not my usual type) on the diving team. Something about his smile and his whatever attitude made me crazy. It helped that I’d met him before, at a dance during NSO.

The next day was Labor Day, the day before classes started. I don’t remember what happened during the day, but the night I can tell you all about. It was our first Ward FHE (Family Home Evening), and it was all get-to-know-you type stuff. Naturally, I won longest name–I always do–and was a tie for most exotic place lived/travelled to. There were some crazy stories of near-death experiences and embarrassing stories. But the really fun part was, for me, afterwards. I got to talking to this one guy with short brown hair and green eyes. He was ridiculously easy to talk to, which was convenient since I’m a-scared of boyses. After a while, some other girls came up to the two of us and asked if they could join our conversation.

“Oh, sorry,” they said, “are we interrupting something?”


So, we all talked about who knows what, until Spiderman came.

Yup, Spiderman. For some reason, somebody somewhere thought it a good idea to put on a Spiderman morph suit and a pair of red high-tops and parade around Campus. We quizzed him on Spiderman trivia and he seemed pretty legit. The guy knew his stuff. Ya gotta respect that. He told us how two girls had earlier asked for the spiderman kiss. So some big guy held him upside down… and he kissed em. COLLEGE!

I dropped and shattered my phone trying to get a pic with Spiderman. But I got it.



Note: this post was going to be much different, except that I never finished it. It’s been almost two months since I wrote the bulk of it… and oh so much dirt’s gone down. I have so much going on I hardly ever get the chance to write anymore. Or read, for that matter–sorry fellow bloggers.


perfection (diary post)

8 Aug

Last night–this morning–whatever. It was amazing. The best night I’ve had in a long time.

I snuck out… kind of. See, I went to hang out with my friend Gee after work. I was in a crappy mood because I had to cover for my friend Greece, and there was some special event going on in the restaurant so everyone was on edge. Even the chef, who is normally so sweet and even-tempered, scolded me and straight-out YELLED at Hotwaiter. I’m talking “WHY DON’T YOU F***ING DO YOUR JOB?! A**HOLE.” He bellowed so loud I could hear it all the way in the bakery, so I’m sure the customers upstairs heard it, too. Anyway, I had to stay overtime because the new manager asked me to individually cut out little pieces of paper with the bakery insignia on it, and then tape them to about 30 paper bags. Then I had to put a bagel and a pastry, or two bagels, in each bag. I wouldn’t have minded the job had he not given it to me FIVE MINUTES before I was supposed to start cleaning up. Jerk.

So anyways, I get over to Gee’s place in my ugly work clothes. We chill in her room, and she tells me all about her summer. I was with her when she had her first kiss* (at a concert with a complete stranger) at the beginning of the year. Since then, she hadn’t really had much action… till now. Since the start of the summer, Gee has had ten hookups. TEN. I haven’t even had ten hookups total, let alone all in the space of a few months! 

We stayed at her place for a few hours. We called her black friend in Florida and chatted with him for ages. We added other randoms to the call–at least three different people–but didn’t explain why some dude with a really deep voice was talking from what they thought was Gee’s phone. Their reactions were priceless.

This was all just to kill time, though. Gee told me she had some friends she wanted to chill with. She gave me some shorts and we snuck out of her house. I drove us over to their place around 12:30 and they snuck out. Not gonna lie, I was pretty disappointed. None of the three guys were cute. Plus, they all looked 16 or 17. Too young. Gee got us invited to a party, though. My old neighbor, Nickkay, was there. He’s always been a flirt. He constantly puts his arm around girls and tells them they’re sexy or hot or that he loves them. He’s nice, and funny, and reasonably cute. Plus, I’m always more comfortable when I know people at a party. Naturally, then, I drove us to the party. It was conveniently located in the building next to Gee’s apartment complex. Score!

So we go in, and the guys Gee brought seemed like idiots. They were loud and immature and just plain annoying. The “party” as such was just a couple of guys sitting around in this soon-to-be-army kid’s loner apartment, drinking and playing beer pong. I sank on the couch, got comfy, and hid into my phone. I introduced myself to the guys, following Gee’s lead. Gee then proceeded to drink most of a water bottle filled with raspberry Smirnoff. Nickkay, who knows I’m mormon, kindly showed me to the fridge, where I found my stuff: Pepsi. There’s nothing more uncomfortable to me than being at a party without a drink in your hand, so this was really a godsend. 

Still, I was bored and uncomfortable. More guys I didn’t know showed up, some of them cute. One, who I’ll call BM, sat down next to me and we started talking a bit. As Gee got drunker and drunker, though, I had to babysit her. I helped her go pee and made her stay inside… no cigs for her. Nickkay and I chatted a little about how I’ve been to Amsterdam (brought up, of course, by a discussion of weed). 

After a while, BM invited me to be on his team for pong. I told him I didn’t drink, and he explained that they already ran out of beer. We’d be playing water pong. He taught me how to play (It’s not that hard. Throw balls in cups. Oh, oops. I forgot I have no coordination, even sober.) and we got beat, bad. Multiple times. As we played, Nickkay came up behind me and held me. Soon, he started kissing my neck. In the past, I would have LOVED this. I have always had a bit of a soft spot for the kid. Only problem: I wanted to hook up with BM more (maybe because he was way more sober), and didn’t wanna ruin my chances by hooking up with Nickkay. So I shooed him away, claiming that I wanted to focus on playing. Actually, BM shooed him away first when he saw how uncomfortable I looked. 

The night went on and Gee and a few others got too drunk to function. Soon-to-be-army-kid kicked them out of his house because he had to go to work in the morning. I said I’d take them home. Before I left, though, I asked BM for his number and he asked me to come to Dunkin Donuts after I dropped off the drunkards. Win.

BM and Nickay were both sobered up at this point. I don’t think BM drank anything the whole time I was there. So, I dropped Gee’s three guy friends back at their house and I left Gee in her bed.

I was out her driveway already when I had a bad feeling and came back to check on her and make sure she wouldn’t choke if she vomited in her sleep. 

Dunkin was horribly awkward for me. Most of it was just Nickay and BM chatting about people and girls I didn’t know. I got my favorite, though, a Boston Creme. Nickkay left early, and wasn’t subtle about it, either. He signed in the window to BM, and I suspect he was either telling him to hit home or (hopefully) instructing him which body parts are mormon acceptable. We drove back after a few minutes, anyway. 

We decided to go for a walk. To my chagrin, Nickkay and two of his buddies came with. It was fun, though not romantic. Nickkay and his friend somehow found it a good idea to streak. So they ran back home, buck naked. Blessedly, I saw nothing.

BM and I took another lap by ourselves. Nothing happened–we just talked the whole time. So we decided to go find a place to sit down. Again, NOTHING HAPPENED. We talked–about animals and our parents’ jobs and my religion–until five in the morning. He said that I should try drinking, at least once before college. Again and again I refused. In hindsight, I suspect that it wasn’t so much that he was pressuring me as testing me. Maybe if I’d budged with the drinking, I might also be flexible (pun unintended) with certain other… non-mormon-approved activities. I’m glad I was stubborn about no alcohol if this was the case.

We got cold so we went back into Armykid’s place. BM snagged his keys and started heading out the door when the others started with their obnoxious “Get the berries in the basket” code again. One tried desperately to give BM a condom, but he wouldn’t take it. Bonus points for BM. 

We went to his car, and as he was putting the backseats down, the others came outside and asked me to go get Gee’s phone charger so Nickkay could use it. I checked on Gee again… still breathing, good. As I brought it out to them, they apologized for cock-blocking.

We kissed for hours. He was infinitely better than my last hookup. He was respectful–he never once tried to do something I wasn’t okay with. He was a good kisser, and he seemed into it. He even liked the same things I like, so our kissing styles meshed perfectly. He took his shirt off, which was super incredibly totally hot new for me. He didn’t try to take my shirt off: perfect. Even though I hadn’t slept a wink, I wasn’t tired.

Suddenly, disaster struck. I told him I should leave by 7:30 so I could sneak back into Geena’s house. 

But where were my keys?!

I searched everywhere. We folded and unfolded the seats in his car a million times; we looked around where we were parked; we searched through my car (embarrassingly gross, of course.); we drove the streets we walked down hours earlier, we checked Armykid’s place twice and emptied out both our bags. I considered just hitching a ride with Gee, but they were already my spares so I’d have no extra set at home. He walked with me and searched with for me for AN HOUR. Who does that for someone who they just met? Who does that for someone who will be moving thousands of miles away in just weeks? Who does that for a ditz who can’t even remember all the places it’s possible she left her keys? 

This perfect kid, apparently. If the kissing didn’t do it for me (and believe me, it did), that last part did. He was just being a genuinely good guy. I gave him opportunities to high-tail it outta there, but he stuck by me until I found them. 

Perfection to me isn’t about having great abs or a nice face or good grades. It’s about being good to people, respecting them and caring for them. 

*Okay. Sooooo she didn’t actually move her mouth. Soooooo she ran away after about thirty seconds (and made me ditch my guy, to boot). It was still her first kiss, okay?

my addiction

25 Mar

Alright, here goes nothing. I’m coming clean about my super secret addiction.

It’s not pot, it’s not cigs, it’s not coffee. (In case you’re curious, I’ve never even tried any of these things.) It’s not Minecraft or Youtube or Pringles.

It’s boys.

I don’t think I can go a single day without talking about boys, or daydreaming about a boy(s), or making a fool of myself in front of flirting with boys. It’s basically the only topic I think about. I’ve also recently come to the conclusion that when I’m not thinking about boys directly, I do think about them indirectly. Take, for example, one of my go-to topics for girl-on-girl conversation: Prom tables/tickets/dresses. And don’t even get me started on all the prama [translation into old-inese: prom-related drama]. It’s already beginning. This Girl stole That Girl’s dress, while Slutty Susan and Promiscuous Patty are fighting over a date. It’s gonna get catty messy. Anyway, what is my main motivation for wanting to go to prom again this year?* BOYS, of course!

Just today, for instance, I was talking to Bambi, my guy friend from Bio with whom I had an awkward almost-thing misunderstanding in the beginning of the year. We were discussing prom dates because he and my she-friend Biscuit are playing matchmaker. The bulk of our conversation was how difficult it was going to be for him to find me a date, since he was running out of friends to set up. (What luck.)

If I’m not talking about prom, then I’m probably catching up with mah gurls about the latest boy-toy news. Daily updates are necessary because at a given time, I generally have about seven guys I think about incessantly regularly consider as viable options. Honestly, most of my conversations go a little something like this:

Me: Oh. My. Gosh. Did I tell you about Saturday night?

Shmands: No, girl! What happened?

Me: Well, I went to a hangout at Sam-I-Am’s place. Mads and I were the only girls there, which was cool because I hardly ever get to hang out with the guys. I had some pretty interesting convos with them… maybe I shouldn’t have told them all how many guys I’ve kissed. Anyway, we played pool in Sam-I-Am’s basement and then watched a scary movie. But you know how Mads and A-man kinda have a thing? Well I didn’t want to third-wheel, plus I was FREEZING sitting all by my lonesome, so instead of sitting by them I went over and sat next to Roach while we all watched The Possession. It had some scary bits, so I was kinda squealing and squirming like you know I do. All of a sudden, I noticed Roach’s hand right near mine, palm-up with his fingers half uncurled as if he wanted me to hold his hand. I considered grabbing it but decided against it. Then, get this: he TOLD ME to hold his hand. Like, seriously, who does that? If you wanna hold a girl’s hand, just take it. Don’t talk about it!

Shmands: Stop. No way! Do you think he likes you? Do you… I mean would you…

Me: Date him? I don’t even know. I mean he’s a sweet kid, but… 

And on. When the Roach discussion dies I move on, not forgetting to mention the sweet things Mr. Awesome said to me in his weekly email. This week, I told him how my brother gave me a book that had helped him get through his depression, in case I ever got to feeling crappy. My ex-boyfriend-turned-best-friend Mr. Awesome replied, among other things (including a promise to bring me back Cambodian jewelry, to make me some Cambodian food, and to treat me to ice cream when he gets home),

 I am here for you too, though I may be just words on a screen right now there is a person behind the words who cares about you and who would do pretty much anything to help you!

Like the hand-holding earlier, it very well could be platonic. It’s very plausible, and even likely, that both of these examples view me as nothing more than a good friend. But here is why I’m addicted to boys: even when they’re ‘just’ my friend, I can count on the fact that they’ve got my back—whether it’s as a few kind words on a screen or as a hand to hold. I guess it’s true what they say about addictive substances: you really can get hooked by just one. I was spoiled by Mr. Awesome, my first boyfriend, who just loves people. Now, whenever I’m single (and sometimes even when I’m kind of not) I’m constantly on the prowl. But really, it’s hard not to be obsessed when I’ve had a taste of (bowm chika wow wow) sincere, genuine, grade-A good guys.**

*Goin’ for Senior Prom number 3. And yes, the petty little girl inside of me delights in bragging over the fact that I’ve already been to two. Suck it, [insert any non-single girl’s name here].

**For the record, from here out I’m going to attribute my current singleness to the substantial dearth of aforementioned goodies, rather than any personal shortcomings. At all. Because, let’s face it, I’m perfect.

boys, church, and what NOT to say

17 Mar

I’m trying to absorb as much of the weekend as I can before I have to once again face the reality of sitting down and doing work looooooong procrastinated. Yesterday, I worked with my friend Goldfish in the bakery. She’s a nice girl, and since I wasn’t with Gee I made good tips. Gee is a sweetheart—one of my best friends, really—but she isn’t the best worker. I consistently make more money without her. She went to the city yesterday with her friends for her birthday. She went to the same karaoke place we went to as our joint birthday party last year.

Me "singing" at karaoke. believe it or not, I'm actually completely sober in this photo.

Me “singing” at karaoke. Believe it or not, I’m actually completely sober in this photo.

While she was in the city, I stayed home. I can’t even really remember what I did, to be honest. I know that when I got home, we were going to go exercise but my dad and brother went to Kohl’s instead. When they got back, it was too late to go to the nice gym, so my bro started to drive me to the town Rec Center. On the way, I had another one of my spontaneous Chloe cries, where I just sobbed uncontrollably about anything and everything I could think of. My main points were that I was fat and that I should be able to run farther and faster than I am currently able to.  That and I felt that I had wasted the last two years of my life because I hadn’t done very many extracurriculars.

My brother’s tires were extremely flat, so we had to refill them. By the time they were full, we’d already wasted too much time to get to the Rec center, our plan B, before it also closed. We went back home (and I think I was still in tears). When we got home, we realized that our old gym, which is open 24 hours, still hadn’t retracted our membership. I finally got to go for a run.

My run was slow. And it was hot. And it was sticky. And it was laborious. What normally should have been a mild jog was making me heave and stop for water breaks. But I didn’t care about that, and I didn’t care that I was the only female in the whole gym. All that mattered was that I was working out again. I did 5K, the very distance I’ll be running this upcoming Saturday!

It’s going to be a 5K for Newtown with about 20,000 people in it. Unfortunately, people don’t seem to realize that the citizens of Newtown don’t really need much in the form of money. It’s not like their possessions were all taken away to Oz via tornado. I mean, MAYBE they could use the money for therapy and the like. But from what I understand, the people of Newtown just need love and some time to let the pain subside a bit.

Anyway, the workout was just what I needed. I felt like I was on my way to becoming strong again. Maybe I will be able to do a half-ironman this summer, after all!

This is one of my favorite Race-Day photos. On the left is me in my hot pink tutu, on the right is my mom in hers. Tutus are our tradition. Who needs training when you have a tutu? Last time, we also had a giant bubble blower. That was magical.

This is one of my favorite Race-Day photos. On the left is me in my hot pink tutu, on the right is my mom in hers. Tutus are our tradition. Who needs training when you have a tutu? Last time, we also had a giant bubble blower. That was magical.

After the run, my whole family watched X-Men first class together. I have NO idea how I hadn’t seen that movie yet, because it was just a work of art. I highly recommend seeing it at least twice. And this is coming from someone who sat next to a girl who kept calling the Beast “SO CUTE!” in every scene before he became the Beast. Ugh. Tor’s become such a dork ever since she became infatuated with a nerd from her school. She likes her men tall, pale and lanky. British dorks are preferred, though not entirely necessary.

In all his state and glory.

In all his state and glory.

Actually, confession time. I kinda dig the whole dork thing, too. Mr. Awesome was 6 ft. 5 and white as can be. His game was tennis and he rode a longboard. He also enjoys Swing Dancing and partaking in University-wide Zombie vs. Human battles. Some of his long-term goals still include creating video games. Total catch, right?

For those of you who are scoffing at my taste in men, I do have some points in my defense:

  1. Geeks will probably end up as jocks’ bosses’ bosses.
  2. Be honest, girls, you have to admit that sometimes the whole nerdy-and-nervous-bumbling bit is just plain ADORKABLE!
  3. Nerdy guys will adore you. Time and again, they will shower you with cheezy compliments, pull out your chair and pay for your dinner. They won’t judge you at all if you act ridiculous. They’ll always give you the respect that you deserve, and they’ll be completely understanding even when you don’t deserve it. They will treat you as if you’re the only girl in the world—even if that’s only because they’re certain that you are, in fact, the only girl in the world who would date them. Really, you get way more out of a relationship with a dork than they do.

However, this isn’t to say that I exclusively look for geeks. (If you happen to be a sexy lacrosse/rugby player who also sings and regularly opens doors for people, PLEASE leave your contact info and also please don’t be gay.*) This being said, I’m not the kinda girl who’s gonna say no to someone just because their IQ is over 80.

Here's a looker. (I'm here all night.)

Here’s a looker. (I’m here all night.)

This morning I went to Church. I got some brownie-cheesecake-chocolate pudding thing in Young Womens’ and I got a homemade powdered wafer cookie from my Sunday School teacher, Brother Pain. He is about a gazillion years old and knows just about everything there is to know about world culture, economics/finance, the LDS faith, and smartness-in-general. His policy is that if you make eye contact with him, he will ask you a question. (That isn’t even a joke. He says it just about every week.) I think he knows every single scripture by heart and somehow expects us to, too.

It was a bit awkward today because we have a kid in our class named Kay. I think Kay has Aspergers’ syndrome, or something like it, that makes him a bit clueless when it comes to social norms. Every time Brother Pain asked a question, Kay would raise his hand and groan because Kay just KNEW he knew the answer. Then Brother Pain would call on him and the answer was invariably completely wrong or simply incomprehensible. If Brother Pain just ignored Kay, as he began to do halfway through, Kay only got more insistent.

“Please,” he’d say. “I know the answer. Can I say the answer?”

“Would anybody else like to give it a shot? Anybody?” Sigh. “Anybody at all?”

I felt bad for Kay. It obviously bothered him so much whenever he got ignored. He got up to walk around the room several times. I bet he gets ignored all the time. I wish I knew him better. I mean, I’m always civil with him, but since he lives in Newtown (the next town over), we don’t cross paths that much outside of Church. It’s hard to really get to know someone when they’re so far away. What’s worse is that Kay rarely gets invited to the few gatherings we do have.

During class, I was sat in between Tanman and this guy named Gregarious. Gregarious is about as tall as I am, with dark buzz-cutted hair and a scar through one of his eyebrows. He’s broadly built, a wrestler. He constantly obsesses over his weight and fitness. When I first met him, I don’t think we had any conversations at all that didn’t include how sore and exhausted he was from his super-manly hard core workouts the day before and how he hadn’t eaten anything all day. (This is, remember, all mentioned to the girl who often eats the extra donut that Shmands wont eat in front of boys.) I had a huge crush on him when I first moved in, partly because he was one of the only guys who’d talk to me (like I said, gregarious) partly because he was a convert to the church—he believed in the church so much that he joined even though nobody else in his family would—and partly because he had a dark past. I guess I have a thing for religious boys. And something about people who grow up with hardship just really makes me go wild. But I think I stopped liking him around the time when mentioned that that he sometimes gets so angry that he gets a little homicidal. He’s a bit of a hot-head, to be honest, even now.

Take today, for instance. During class, we kinda chatted a little here and there while Brother Pain wasn’t watching. After class, I was just about to leave the room to try and chat with Tanman when he called my name. He told me how he just wanted to slap Kay after a while. I mean, I could understand where he was coming from: his arguments that he was trying really hard to listen and focus on the spirit, but that Kay was really distracting him from the lesson, were pretty valid. It makes sense. But I guess I just felt something different when Kay spoke. Maybe it’s just that I don’t know him as well and I haven’t had enough time to get annoyed by it, but every time Kay opened his mouth I would smile and think how cute and innocent he was. I know, I know, I sound awful and patronizing. I’m just being honest. But if you’re getting angry and annoyed by somebody like Kay who really truly means well, then are you really “feeling the spirit” at all? Last time I checked, church is about loving one another.

But maybe I take that whole “love” thing a teensy bit too far. I sometimes wonder if I’m going to church for God or for boys. Honestly, I can hardly have a conversation with Gregarious without falling half in love with him. And Tanman is just so cute with kids. And then there’s A-man, who lost his best friend when he was in 8th grade. And don’t even get me started on Roach, who lost his mother when he was very young. I just want to hug all of them forever.

This is what happens when I try to hug boys.

This is what happens when I try to hug boys. (Not my image, as usual)

I think one of the worst things I’ve ever said was when I was teasing Roach a few weeks ago. I was trying to call him a baby for some reason or other, but I accidentally said something like “is your MOMMY gonna XYZ?” As soon as I saw his face I realized what I’d said and quickly tried to cover with “I meant your dad.” But the damage was done, even though he regained his composure quickly. I could hardly talk to him for the rest of the night because I felt so awful.

But I don’t think that was the single worst thing I’ve ever said. No… that was when I asked a blind girl what her favorite color was. TWICE. It wasn’t on purpose! She didn’t speak very good English, so I was trying to ask her questions that she would understand. When she didn’t answer at first, I thought she hadn’t heard me. So I asked her again. It was only when she hesitantly responded,

“Umm… black?” that I knew that I was going to go to Hell.

In other news, I watched The Princess and the Frog again today and I wanted to cry. Love the songs, love the story. Definitely recommend this one too. Also, we played family Texas Hold ’em again and I won so hard.

*This isn’t homophobia. It’s just that gay guys are always hottest and it’s so not fair.

Matt Bomer is living, breathing proof that gay guys are just so much hotter. Can we just all step back and say YUM?

Matt Bomer is living, breathing proof that gay guys are just so much hotter. Can we just all step back and say YUM?