Willing and [UNST]able

As a fledgling New Yorker I decided there was no time like the present to dip my toes into the dating pool by downloading a few apps and seeing what kind of possibilities laid before me.

Christina was one of the first girls to message me on Bumble. This 25 year-old segment producer was certainly physically pleasing and being that she was a college basketball fan much like myself, I thought I would take a stab at it and invite her out for a cocktail or two.

I selected a charming wine bar located in close proximity to Christina’s apartment in SoHo, and arrived promptly at seven PM.

It was obvious to me that Christina relied on the help of some filters or other photo enhancing applications to improve her appearance on my iPhone, but she still seemed quite appealing nonetheless.

We spoke about where we were from and what we did for a living, but considering March Madness would soon be upon us, we dove right into our beloved college basketball.

Being a graduate of University of Maryland Christina was quite passionate about her Terrapins.

While exchanging opinions about the first round of each other’s brackets I noticed a dewy mist glazing over her green eyes.

“Are you OK?” I asked, worrying if something I said had upset her.

“I’m sorry. It’s just so hard to talk about college. It was the greatest time of my life, and I just miss it, and I feel like I will never be as happy again. I just want to go back to football games and life when I had no responsibilities. I have been so depressed every since graduation, and I hate it,” she forlornly revealed.

Bewildered at what to say to this emotional stranger with severe Peter Pan syndrome I awkwardly placed my hand on her shoulder and murmured some senseless condolences.

Christina and I sat there for another two hours whilst she sucked down several glasses of wine despite the slurring of her speech.

I decided it was time to get her home, so I escorted her to her apartment and attempted to say my goodbyes.

“Come up with me for one more drink,” she pleaded.

Though I knew it was a horrible idea, I felt the waterworks might begin again should I decline her invitation.

We entered her apartment and the second I sat on the couch Christina straddled me  and wrapped her lips around what felt like my entire face.

Completely turned off by everything about this woman I gave her a gentle nudge, and told her it was best she get herself to bed.

“WHY DON’T YOU WANT ME? WHY DOESN’T ANYONE WANT ME? I MAY AS WELL THROWN MYSELF OUT OF MY WINDOW!” she said, in between dramatic sobs of despair.

Worried that she may in fact throw herself out of the window I tried my best to calm her down, and hoped she would soon pass out.

I spent the next hour comforting  this tearful stranger and explaining that life after college actually isn’t so bad.

“Will you please just come sleep in my bed and hold me? That’s all I want. I promise I won’t try to have sex with you.”

Right at this moment, her roommate emerged from her bedroom, clearly agitated by all the racket. “You can just go. She does this all the time. She won’t jump out the window, I promise,” she said confidently.

Ecstatic to be relieved of my suicide watch duties I gingerly pushed Christina’s head from my shoulder and bolted for the door…

…then quickly removed my toes out of the dating pool for a while.

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