This weekend, I met a guy at my friend’s party. He and I got into several really interesting conversations, including what was needed in education reform and how much he hated Michelle Rhee. I know we discussed how obnoxious people were who worked for non profits and referred to them as 501c3’s (oh, DC, I will not miss that). I was super drunk, so I’m not actually sure what else we talked about, but he was super cool and I really enjoyed talking to him. We exchanged numbers, and then I classily drunk texted him later to tell him we should make out. He told me that it was a great idea but it would have to be another time. We exchanged a few more texts and then, at some point, I obviously chose to do some other drunk thing. Like sleep, or whatever.

Yesterday, I texted to ask if he wanted to do something this week. I felt kind of weird, because it wasn’t like it would be a date, since he knew I am moving in June, and I had already expressed that I wanted to make out, but whatever. He said he would love to hang out and would let me know today what his schedule looked like.

Today, out of the blue, I got a text reading:

“I’m just not very good at running my life, Eliza.”

What? That’s kind of crazy person talk. My only response was, “What?”

A little later he texted back. “Sorry, I guess that was kind of cryptic,” he said. Yeah, yeah it was. Anyway, turned out that he just has a busy week and can’t hang out. He suggested next week. I said sure, and then he started to apologize profusely. I told him twice that it was seriously ok, and then realized that it is most definitely for the best that I’m moving and don’t have to let this poor, bearded boy down easily. Because someone seems a little cray cray.

I mean, you’re cool and all, but I think I will be able to make it through.