Ooooout Tonight
Nothing went according to plan yesterday. Instead of Sacha and I getting together for happy hour, we decided to go be healthy seperatly-- she playing tennis, me going to the gym. Ultimatly, the plan was to meet up afterwards. After getting out of the gym, I decided to swing by Cosi to go see everyone. In the midst of a stolen diet snapple and a cigarette, Jenny and her roomate arrive with bags in tow from Urban in Georgetown.
The roomate she went shopping with was, as fate would have it, the roomate I have a crush on.
Suuuuch a crush. Especially after what happened next.
Sacha still hadn't called me back from her tennis match, so I decided to walk Jenny and Alex home. As we approach Dupont Circle, Jenny notices a drumcircle, so we decide to go take a closer look.
The people in the circle are reciting poetry, singing, and banging drums... facinated, we discover that this here circle is the DC Guerrilla Poetry Insurgency-- poetry to protect the peace. Jenny, Alex, and I stop to have a listen, and at some point this disgusting personification of all that is backwater decides to get on the open mike. "Stop crying and grow some balls" may have been the statement that unlocked Alex's inner guerrilla, because after the oaf got off the mic, Alex went up and started flowing.
A stunningly fierce black girl took the second mic and started singing behind Alex's words.
And then a helicopter flew over, and between the sounds of the blades chopping, alex's perfectly synchopated verbage, the harmoninzing, and the drums keeping beat through it all, I swooned.
I walked them the rest of the way home, smoked, and stayed for dinner. Jenny cooked us pasta, Alex was excited to ride my bike, and I just enjoyed the company.
Eventually Jenny went to bed. Alex was sprawled out on his couch, and I was sprawled out on mine. Eventually we were holding hands. What followed leaves me to play the 'context' game in my head for a while...
This morning I told him I still thought he was great. He returned to sentiment.
But there was no kiss. How does this work?
The roomate she went shopping with was, as fate would have it, the roomate I have a crush on.
Suuuuch a crush. Especially after what happened next.
Sacha still hadn't called me back from her tennis match, so I decided to walk Jenny and Alex home. As we approach Dupont Circle, Jenny notices a drumcircle, so we decide to go take a closer look.
The people in the circle are reciting poetry, singing, and banging drums... facinated, we discover that this here circle is the DC Guerrilla Poetry Insurgency-- poetry to protect the peace. Jenny, Alex, and I stop to have a listen, and at some point this disgusting personification of all that is backwater decides to get on the open mike. "Stop crying and grow some balls" may have been the statement that unlocked Alex's inner guerrilla, because after the oaf got off the mic, Alex went up and started flowing.
A stunningly fierce black girl took the second mic and started singing behind Alex's words.
And then a helicopter flew over, and between the sounds of the blades chopping, alex's perfectly synchopated verbage, the harmoninzing, and the drums keeping beat through it all, I swooned.
I walked them the rest of the way home, smoked, and stayed for dinner. Jenny cooked us pasta, Alex was excited to ride my bike, and I just enjoyed the company.
Eventually Jenny went to bed. Alex was sprawled out on his couch, and I was sprawled out on mine. Eventually we were holding hands. What followed leaves me to play the 'context' game in my head for a while...
This morning I told him I still thought he was great. He returned to sentiment.
But there was no kiss. How does this work?
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