My obsession with Sex and the City started young, like really young. With a sister seven years older than me I was watching the Real World by the time I was eight and quoting Samantha before my boobs began developing. It all makes me really uncomfortable now, but it was the early 2000's and television was different back then, even on HBO.
One of the most memorable episodes of Sex in the City for me is Carrie Bradshaw's realization that she revealed too much to soon, labeling herself "emotionally slutty." If I died tomorrow my gravestone would say, "Daughter. Fast talker. Emotionally slutty." It is what it is.
A few weeks ago I was at the bar for my weekly pinball tournament, don't knock it till you try it. In an aim to talk to a guy, any guy, I set my eyes on a red haired version of my now ex, except slightly shorter and with a much better job. I was smitten. The universe was on my side when I was grouped on the same team as him, and this is where our love story begins.
We spent the night talking about the usual DC topics: where we were originally from, our jobs, what we hoped our jobs to one day be and some of our favorite things to do in the city. He was eerily normal and based on my last relationship I was impressed that he didn't insist on taking a shot with every beer he ordered. Yes, my standards are extremely low lately.
Although we were on a team with two other guys, he and I played at a similar level, so the night was spent trying to beat each other for second place. After a night of pinball and friendly goodbyes, I quickly ran home to tell my best friend about the cuter, more successful version of my ex that I had discovered. Then the next day happened, and it all fell to shit.
In typical twenty something fashion I Googled him. I had his first name and knew he lived in the city, but with his cookie cutter name I didn't get anywhere. Then it hit me that I could find his full name using the pinball registry form, so after a few seconds of scrolling I hit the jackpot and found his full name, and that's when my fingers really hit they keyboard.
One of my many skills is being a great investigator, and I know every girl thinks she could work for the FBI, but I'm different. Gimme one minute detail and a name and I will find his full legal name, address, favorite bar to check into and his old Tumblr profile from 2009. What can I say, it's a gift!
Anyways, you know when you're doing a little snooping and find too much? Then you're left feeling bad about what you found but you cant even bring it up cause somehow you look like you're in the wrong. Those last two sentences basically sum up my twenties.
I found too much guys. Way too much.
As I was doing an old fashioned Google search I found a webpage that had his name as part of the URL. My silly self thought, "oh wouldn't it be hilarious if this was one of those embarrassing wedding websites or something." It was. It is! He's engaged ya'll! Like to be married!
This new discovery sent me in a downward spiral of then stalking his gorgeous fiance who legitimately looks like a real life Barbie doll. Their website featured their love story, from how they met to when and how he proposed. It had photos of their venue and a live countdown to the wedding date. To make things worse they had linked their wedding registry, and like a true supporter of love I scrolled through it, and in all fairness, the girl has good taste.
So yeah, I spent the night being emotionally slutty with another girl's fiance. I guess she's just marrying one of those really friendly guys that talks to random girls on the rebound in dark bars. They look incredibly happy and I wish them nothing but the best, but I have made a official request to no longer be grouped in the same pinball team as him. I can't let it slip that I know he vacationed in Greece two summers ago and would love to know if his college roommate ever recovered from that fall.
Are you guilty of ever being emotionally slutty? Share your horror story below so we can all bond over our creepy tendencies.