Hook It Up

One night he came home doing the dance of joy.  He had just hooked up.  Cool.  I was happy for him.  We got along fine as roommates and I celebrated his successes.  

The next morning, I went into the kitchen to find this written on our communal whiteboard.

Evan 1

Catherine 0

I gasped out loud.  Totally hilarious.  He had thrown down the gauntlet.

As the school year went by, the numbers on the whiteboard continued to evolve.

Evan 2

Catherine 0

Evan 2

Catherine 1

Evan 2

Catherine 2

Evan 2

Catherine 3

Evan 3

Catherine 4

I can’t speak for the accuracy of the numbers since this was way back in 2004-2005.  Besides, since then, I’ve been memorizing more pertinent career-focused numbers like deposit growth, loan losses, capital expenditure.  But the trend in the numbers got to the point where I was consistently beating Evan.  Woohoo!

I think the glaring loss finally became too much for him because he went over and erased the scores, whining, “I can’t believe you’ve hooked up more than I have.”

I don’t remember if we realized it during that discussion or sometime later, but it turns out, I had increased my number every time I even kissed a guy.  He laughed, “That’s not what a hookup means!”  So he had beat me all along.

Flash forward to the here and now.  Last night, I was out until about 2-2:30am, in bed around 3ish.  That’s pretty late for me.  I’m not a party girl anymore.  I woke up this morning and there was a text message from some guy I used to date.

“U still up We were thinking about the End Up”

I silence my phone at night because of the creepy crawly drunk texters.  I looked at the time he had sent it.  6:24am!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mind you, he didn’t text, “Are you awake now?”

No.  His text clearly asked if I was STILL up.  In other words, did I not sleep through the night and was I ready to go clubbing at dawn.

Umm, excuse me?  Am I tripping?  Find another hookup.