In my first year of college, to meet people and perpetuate my addiction to smoking, I hung out in the courtyard of my dorm a lot.
Met this guy named Mike.
He was okay.
He furnished Lisa and I with enough alcohol to get drunk one night, took us dancing and then talked his way into my room.
(My judgment may or may not have been impaired at that time.)
Anyhoo.
We somehow get to talking about what each of us is like.
You know, I'm the kind of girl that likes_______. Blah blah blah.
Well, when it was Mike's turn to tell me what kind of boy he was, he informed me that he was "not so deep".
Really?
I assume that was his way of telling me that I shouldn't expect to be called in the morning, or ever.
Thanks for the heads up.
Now, had he not said anything, he probably would have gotten lucky. I was very . . . well, I was something I'm not now.
But because he was so arrogant to think I would still want to have anything to do with him after his proclamation, I said goodnight.
Sorry Mike from downstairs, I am so deep.