An exercise in mortification

As usual, I didn't hear from Christopher all week. I went ahead and made plans and thought I could somehow squeeze him in. Friday I went to a show and had a fabulous time. Saturday I was invited to a house-warming party back at school. I didn't mind too much that he didn't call because I had those plans. I can only imagine how I would have felt if I didn't. Saturday night I was with my college buddies and partook in my college behaviors, which included a keg and vodka- lots of vodka. I never touch the stuff unless I'm with them.

"You know, other people don't drink as much as we do," I slurred to Conor, who was pouring me another shot.

"No shit, Sarah. You learned your drinking from me and I'm Irish."

It's true. The first couple of months after I met Conor, I spent the majority of most nights with my head in a toilet. My tolerance is higher than most boys since then and I rarely get drunkity drunk drunk. Ok so maybe 3 times this year, but before that I would go months and months without it.

Conor and I finished our bottle of vodka and we had begun working on the keg when I pulled out my phone. Never a good idea. I need to learn to leave it in the car or out of my range. Called Christopher. He didn't answer. Called him twice more within 10 minutes. Then I decided to leave him a message. (Oh God, this is so embarrassing.)

Completely serious and slightly tipping over: "Hey Christopher, this is Sarah. This is an official booty call. This is not an alert of the emergency broadcasting system. This is the real thing. I'm going to need you. Stat."

Conor just stared at me open mouthed with the keg nozzle drooping from his hands.

The next morning I looked at my phone log on my cell phone. Oh my God. At least he was the only person I called. And now I won't have to worry about him calling ever again.

Sure enough, Sunday night Christopher phones. He was in Birmingham all weekend visiting friends. He sounded happy to hear from me and kept asking who I was with at all times, whether or not I had dated him, if I would ever consider dating him, etc. The questioning made me really uncomfortable until I realized that he was checking up on me. If he was asking, he obviously cares if I'm with other people or not.

Christopher: So you didn't get naked this weekend?
Sarah: Nope.(Pauses) Um...
Christopher: What?
Sarah: Did you get my message last night?
Christopher: Nope. Did you leave one?
Sarah: (sighs with relief) Um, yeah but it wasn't important.
Christopher: What did it say?
Sarah: Nothing really, I was just, um, calling to see where you were.
Christopher: Oh, ok. (Pauses) So do you want to come over?
Sarah: Sure, let me just grab some work clothes for tomorrow and I'll be on my way.
Christopher: Hey, wear something sexy. I'm going to need you. Stat.

Oh God.