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Feels like Sunday

You know what's a sure fire way to guarantee your night is going to be ridiculous? Not even thinking about leaving your dorm until past 11, then not actually leaving until after midnight. One minute I'm perfectly comfortable in my flannel sweatpants, sipping my Tropicana Strawberry/Mango juice, chatting with my girl Rach, and watching one of my all time favorite movies, Pretty Woman, and then the next minute I find myself throwing back shots in four inch stilettos and dancing to BedRock. How does this happen?
From what I can remember the night started with a cab ride to Harvard, followed by flirting with the bouncer to the OWL to get in, followed by getting hit on by pretentious Harvard boys who probably all stand on the smaller side of the bell curve - if you know what I mean. Quickly thereafter I waited in a bathroom line, got groped by some random girl who deemed me her new best friend, judged some awkward drunk freshman girls, almost climbed a tree, shot dirty looks to a best friend's past flame, and finally ended the night with a long walk through Harvard Square and then a cab drive home with a cab driver who tried to explain the meaning of life to us.
Successful night? I think so.
I woke up with a raging hangover, the sun blaring in my eyes, and Eminem blasting from the soccer field. Typical Saturday morning.
But it was stunning out so I told my knees to stop bitching, put on my new Zoots and went for a run. Where did I find myself? Harvard. I just can't get away from this place.
Then I basically did nothing all day except sit in the sun and nap - and now I'm paying for it. Staying in tonight to work on this Chinese currency policy paper.
It's funny...the one reason I picked this topic is because some once told me it was FAR too complicated to, "explain to some one without an economics background." and he, so kindly, "dummed it down for me."
Well, right now I'm well into a 50 page policy thesis on it, so you can take your currency policy concepts that I "can't grasp" and shove them right up your conceited Ivy League ass - right next to your laundry list of reasons why you can't possibly go running and inability to compliment the girl you're interested in.

Which brings me to another thought: at what point in time do guys go from sweet, nervous high schoolers who would do anything to get the girl they like to even notice them to frat-tastic assholes who get offended that you won't give them a blow job on the second time you hook up? I want to take the very moment they start to change over and freeze-frame it, because honestly I'm sick of whatever bug entered their system. Maybe it's just a midwest thing? Or just a Katie thing? But guys just used to do the most thoughtful little things in high school, and in college they just seem to stop listening, or caring? Some of my favorite memories in HS involve little things, like getting called to the office because my boyfriend dropped off lunch for me on his day off, or finding a note in my pencil case calling me beautiful, or visiting me at work, or him stopping by randomly just because he was driving. Maybe it's not all the guy's fault, maybe we just all stopped expecting it so they stop trying so hard because they don't have to. But it's an impossible situation because the very moment we make them work hard, they find the first girl who is willing to take her shirt off and go for that, because it's easier.
But the other problem is the guy that would be the PERFECT boyfriend, the guy that meets you for lunch, is never late, texts and calls, listens to all your problems, gives you advice, and leaves little presents on your door - you know the one - that guy goes straight from complete stranger to best guy friend, and chances of him leaving that status are slim to none because he's, "like your brother." Not his fault, not your fault. He's just the nice guy who will always feel like the friend.
The same thing goes for girls. He'll always go for the hot little sexpot; not the girl that makes him laugh until he cries, works out with him, can do the perfect impression of him, and borrows his DVDs because you love all the same movies. I've seen it happen a million times, but it still hurts like hell.
How did I get on this topic?

On a lighter note, there's a guy outside Rich Hall Razor scooting around in pink converses - he reminds me of a swan on wheels. Very graceful, but awkward at the same time. It takes talent to pull that off. I commend him for his individuality.
On a completely different note, I feel really dumb right now because I'm sitting in the study lounge in the dark because only half the lights are on...but I don't look nearly as silly as the Asian man across from me napping and drooling on the couch =)

love love love,
me

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