Read part one of the Tucker story here!
A few hours later, Tucker texted me and said what had gone from being “the best day” had become “a terrible day.” He told me he was alone in his room. He seemed upset. I left the party I was at, and went to go hang out with him. He was just sitting in his dorm room eating pizza and watching sports. Nothing was wrong. I asked what happened and he said his roommate was being “a giant butt.” So I watched sports with him for awhile. This incident should have been a red flag, but I persisted in thinking, he’s a nice guy!
The following Thursday, I was doing homework when he inboxed me and asked what I was up to. I said “homework.”
He said, “You should come out!”
I said, “Aww I wish, we should hang out this weekend though.”
Then he came back with, “Actually, what are you doing tomorrow?”
“I have no idea, what should I be doing tomorrow?”
“SYR?”
Internally, I thought D’awww!!…wait, why did he wait to ask me the night before, was I his second choice?…he asked me to a dance, d’aww! “Yeah that sounds fun!”
The theme was the 60s or 70s or 80s or something – the brightly colored spandex, boys dressed as girls, headbands, and ill fitting stained clothes from Salvo SYR. My friends made me put on an outfit I looked cute in, but not overly costumey. I could also have worn it to a bar and no one would have known it was a costume. Friends are just the best aren’t they?
So I roll over to his dorm room around 9 p.m. and there was no one there but him. He lived in a quad, so I asked where his roommates were.
“Oh, they went to pregames off campus, but I didn’t know if you’d want to go so…” …So why didn’t you tell me about this? Now there’s just the two of us in your dorm room. He asked if I wanted anything to drink. Yes, please! He made me a gin and tonic. He told me about how Tanqueray was his personal favorite gin, and this was his signature drink. He put two shots in each drink, and took a shot himself as he made them. It tasted so much like pine. We chatted, sitting there, drinking our gin and tonics. It was fine. He put on music, folks-y classic stuff. It was really nice.
Then he said, “Another gin and tonic?” I wasn’t really done with my first one. But, why not! I’d get to it eventually. He took another shot of gin while he was making our second drinks. He told me his mom made him take swing dancing lessons when he was in high school, so he could actually swing dance pretty well. I didn’t believe this. He turned from the desk where he was putting ice in our drinks. “I can show you” he said, came over to the couch and took my hands, pulling me to my feet.
He really could swing dance. I was twirled and spun, and I finally understood what people mean about leading and following. And then he kinda stumbled. I laughed, because laughing makes everything non-awkward. I was also semi afraid he’d knock me over. He proposed gin shots. Why not? So we each took a shot of gin. It tasted like someone sprayed my throat with liquid pine needles.