Dear Frat Boy,
You’re cute. No, really, you’re cute. I’m giving my friends the eye every time you casually rest your finger tips on the small of my back as you lead me through the dance floor. When you stop at the acoustic band, for some super adorable swing dancing before the heavy grinding, I’m literally melting. The fact that you aren’t smoking in between your natty lights, makes me smile too. My Daddy would approve. Oh you own your own business? Oh you’ve been self-sufficient for the past year now? Oh you own a dozen Ralph Lauren bow-ties? Oh you’re not a hard-core republican? Swoon, Swoon, Swoon.
Oh you can keep up with my witty banter? I’m literally forcing back my mile-wide grin now, and begging my doe-eyes not to give me away.That is until it’s time to head in for the night. Now, you definitely acknowledged my comment when I told you I would be staying in the women’s guest house and not your room… But now you seem angry? Oh you are angry? You think I strung you along tonight? You think I owe it to you to follow you home now because we made out and got a little NC-17 on the concrete dance floor? Is that so?
You think it’s wise to get snarky? Your best tactic is to become a bit aggressive? You think I can’t hear the inflections in your tone? Question: Do you realize what a 3rd degree creeper you sound like right now? No… Hmm, well newsflash, you’re scaring me a little.
Ahh, I see you aren’t sensing this. I’ll put a little distance in between us. Oh you want to walk me to the door still? Oh you’re going to put your arm around me for the rest of the walk? How about No. You’re an ass. And a creepy ass at that. Go the Hell Away.
A College Woman with Some Self Respect.