The girl who just can't play it cool

when it came to coming up with ideas for our school assignments,

“When you don’t know what to do — go meta.”

And even though I now hate him as a person, it’s some pretty good advice that’s lasted me. It’s part of a mental list I’ve been compiling for the last few years called “Random Practical Knowledge I’ve Learned from My Exes.”

Also on this list:

• if you fold your laundry as soon as you get it from the dryer, your clothes will keep from wrinkling
• ordering two chicken snack wraps from McDonald’s is cheaper than ordering a chicken burger and just as filling
• putting moisturizer on your legs after shaving will keep them from getting red and itchy
• the 106 York University bus drops you off right in front of the Seneca building at York. I used that route everyday for two years.

complaining to my friend Sil about how when you meet a guy, he’ll always, always ask you the same question:

“So uh….what kinda music do ya listen to?”

Every. Guy. It became kind of predictable and it started to annoy me. I had no idea why it was always this particular question.

“Jess…”  Sil levelled me with this look like the answer was obvious. “It’s because they have no idea what else to talk about.”

Even as teenagers, she’s always been the wise one.

have an intense sexy serial killer kind of look that’s strangely attractive? You know what I mean? They have a really powerful gaze and a mysterious… spontaneous…. electric quality that surrounds them like maybe they’ll go crazy any minute and you’re not sure if you want to see it happen but you’ll stick around anyway because just the possibility of it happening is thrilling and why on earth would you want to miss that?

when I came across something unexpected in one of the aisles. I stopped short. It wasn’t a costume- but it was something just as good. It was a hot guy. A hot guy by himself…. Also looking for a Halloween costume. I don’t actually know that he was looking for a costume but I’m going to assume that’s what he was doing because it makes this story more romantic. I caught a glimpse of him down the aisle. Tall and beautiful. Just my type. I played it cool by completely ignoring him. I continued to look around in every aisle except the one he was in, this beautiful man on my mind. After a little while, I saw him walk out of the store. Might’ve played it a little too cool. And guess what? ….He had a prosthetic leg. And that’s when I knew I was a good person. Other girls may have seen him as a guy with a prosthetic leg. But I alone saw him for who he truly is- a hot guy with a prosthetic leg. I would appreciate his hotness even though he was missing a knee, a calf and a foot. Not even a peg leg would stop me from loving this hot man. That’s how much I appreciate this hot guy for his hotness. I could be the girl to make him whole again. Not literally whole, that would be impossible for anybody. But I mean figuratively, I could make him whole again by making him forget about not having a leg.

sushi place with a guy I knew from school. When the food came, I was so hungry that I wasn’t watching what I was doing and I bit my lip so damn hard that it swelled up and turned black. Classically adorkable first date scenario. I decided to take this opportunity to show Date how cool and easygoing I am by making a charming joke about how people will think that he had beaten me.

Date was not amused. At all.

Apparently Date is not cool with jokes about physical violence. Whatever. My black lip was the most memorable thing about that date. Even making out in the back of his van couldn’t salvage it. It turns out if you have no chemistry with a guy, making out with him won’t be enough to salvage the date. So much has changed since high school.

A while ago, I went downstairs and found him in one of the editing suites. I was wearing sweatpants and a sweater that’s just a bit short on me. He poked the bare strip of skin on my stomach.

“What’s that there, eh?” He had a mischievous grin. “Do you have abs? Can I see them?”

Cheeky asshole.

“NO!”, I bark, embarrassed, like a little kid.

I try to pass the burden onto him.

“Do YOU have abs?”

His bright expression fades a little.

“No…”

Then:

“Well one…”

Now it’s my turn to grin.

“Really? Can I see it?”

The words are barely out of my mouth when Johnny lifts his shirt to show me his skinny pale chest. I gave it a poke. He really did have just one ab.