Friday Daily Editor Idris O’Neill was recently awarded Bwog’s “Most Virginal” award, a condition probably attributed to the fact that there are at least a few people out there she missed her shot with. She apologizes for the late notice but let’s try again in four months, okay?
To all the people I didn’t hook up with:
I’m writing this in the back of an Uber, looking at Barnard shrink in the rearview mirror. As I pass all the bars I never went to, the restaurants I didn’t eat at, the missed opportunity of going above 125th because it’s not gentrified yet, there’s one thing I regret not doing that won’t leave my thoughts: you.
I remember every flirt, hands touching hands, every time I did that laugh that was like “you’re not that funny but I’m trying to fuck,” every exchange of smirks, the many, many conversations over drinks you bought and of course, me leaving. That was always the best feeling, having you waste your time trying to get it in with me and the power of me saying, “I think I’m actually just going to go to bed.” It was so gratifying that I wrote my final anthropology paper on it.
I miss you. I thought I should be candid about, just say what I really want to say instead of waste more time playing this game of me pretending this is going somewhere, like your bed. I did want our almost-hook up. The truth is the attraction was there, but there is no single person I’m so attracted to I’d lose sleep over it. Let’s do this all over again at, like, noon or late afternoon. I’m not picky; I just don’t think last call at 1020 at 4 am is going to cut it.
There’s still hope for you. In this new school year, when I’m a completely different person because I ate-prayed-loved myself into an enlightened, casually sexual being in Indonesia, I’d like to see you again. I hope you keep me in your thoughts in our time apart, that you learn and grow from it. Maybe you’ll tell better jokes, buy more drinks, and ultimately become the type of person I would lose sleep over. See you soon.
what is the context for this picture via Pxhere