I went out with all my girlfriends one night. There were always about eight of us, and we lived next door to each other in two condominiums that shared adjoining walls. Our general plan was to go out, dance, and see what happened. On this particular night, three of the eight girls brought a guy home, and I ended up on the sofa-bed with John. My best friend slept peacefully on the adjoining couch.

It was just like any other night. Dancing, drinking, dancing, drinking, and the after party at my best friend’s house. Everyone eventually claimed a place to sleep. On the second story, there were bunk beds and a queen sized bed in the second bedroom. Downstairs showcased two couches, and one had a queen sized sofa bed, which we often used for crashers and Saturday/Sunday hangover sessions filled with Lifetime movies and Izzo’s fabulous steak bowls.

On this particular night, I found John, who was a nice enough guy. Tall, relatively handsome, and he did look pretty decent in a pair of jeans. Well, we all crashed, and in the PG sort of way. The next morning, you would’ve thought I’d negatively provoked him the night before. As we laid next to each other on the sofa bed, I heard him wake up and roll around. My back was toward him. I heard him shuffle around beneath the covers, occasionally bumping his legs into mine. I figured I’d just stay still and see if he would head for the door. OH NO!!! THE DOOR WOULD’VE BEEN FAR TOO EASY. He slowly lifted the covers, and breathed a sigh of relief. A SIGH OF RELIEF COME MORNING DOES NOT BODE WELL FOR ANY GIRL.

My best friend was lying on the adjacent couch, facing me. Our eyes were both open, just waiting for what would come next. And do you know, this guy had the audacity to say, OUT LOUD, “WHEW, THANK GOD, JEANS! JEANS ARE GOOD.” This guy is actually thankful he’s woken up in a girl’s apartment wearing jeans!!! My best friend’s eyes blew up into the size of soccer balls as the blood rushed to my face. She’s trying to stifle a laugh, and I’m trying to make myself as small as possible to disappear completely. SERIOUSLY, JEANS ARE GOOD? OH LOVELY. AS IF I DIDN’T FEEL REJECTED ENOUGH BY MEN IN GENERAL, THIS GUY HAS TO GO AND BE ALL THANKFUL FOR HIS DENIM?? I MEAN HE LOOKS GOOD IN JEANS, BUT THEY WEREN’T THE MOST AMAZING PAIR OF JEANS EVER. Ugh. Was I that repulsive to him? That unattractive? That unable to assist him in being manly?

To be rejected is one thing. To be rejected when neither of you even attempted to hook up was a completely different story. I mean, I was rejected before I even had the chance to consider this imaginary hook up “invitation.” So, basically, the imaginary me was rejected, the simple thought of me. LOVELY! I AM OFFICIALLY BRIDGET JONES, before she gets Hugh Grant or Colin Firth, of course.

As the other girls made their way downstairs and into the kitchen, we all became spritely, and John stuck around for a bit. WHY? DON’T YOU HAVE JEANS TO TEND TO? After awhile, he bailed, and THANK GOD!! I couldn’t face him much longer without telling him I heard his little jean prayer. I wish I would’ve been thinking on my feet, and asked him how sleeping in those jeans was? or if he had slept comfortably? Looking back, I still can’t come up with something witty and insulting at the same time.

From that day on, all eight of us called him by his new full name, “John Jeans Are Good.” I don’t know if he ever figured out why, but I’m sure he did.

Moral of the story, don’t ever get into bed with a man who still has his jeans on.

Stay Glittery, Daters!



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