Last week was the triumphant return to my alma mater--to visit the women who helped me become who I am today. (Good thing? Bad thing? Jury still out.) Additionally, I was there to celebrate a 21st birthday (I love you, Stabby) and prevent any work from getting done. (For the record, I excelled in all three endeavors.)
One of the highlights was a trip to the bar. (New since my graduation--which is probably ok.) I sat there with five friends, having a pint and a chat. Out of nowhere, a guy from the bar and his ladyfriend come to sit with us. Um, okay? She is quiet and friendly. He is in a band, just blowing through town. Which meant one thing: Philosopher Musician Guy. Sigh. After a few minutes of preliminary conversation bullshit, I strike up a side conversation with the other girl farthest from him. (We lucked out by choosing those seats at the start of the evening.) Talk turns to a certain boy. As I start an unprovoked rant about Boy, PMG hears and stops the other conversation.
"What's the story?" PMG thinks he can help, I suppose. It won't be anything new, though--I have heard it all regarding Boy. I tell him the Reader's Digest version, emphasizing my most recent headache.
"See," he starts. I know instantly that he will philosophize, as PMGs are known to do. "See, the important thing is that you were ready to open up your soul and be vulnerable." Oh God. "And blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah," he went on. Then, he reached his bottom line.
"The important thing is that you not become jaded."
My friends? Could not stop laughing. Dude, you're just a little too late.
Damn, it was a good trip home.