HELLO! My god who am I? Where have I been? What am I DOING? I haven’t written a post in forever and so today I’m giving you the story of Dislocated Shoulder Boy. Poor thing. AH. I’m actually cringing right now as I type this. I hope he’s well. Truly I do.
First of all, our Tinder messages were mainly us riffing on what kind of music we’re into, so it was a really cool conversation. Finally, he asks if he can take me out for a drink and I agree. He picks a bar based on the type of music they play *duh*. SO we arrange to meet at a really chill dive bar in the city, and we pick a time and that’s that.
I’m in my Uber on my way to meet him and I’m completely sober, ew I know right, who goes on a first date whilst completely sober? I get to the bar and I see a guy with his back facing me and I think “Oh that’s him!” So I walk up and I’m like “Hey!” And he turns around and he’s CUTE. So I’m like YAS. We go into the bar, and he’s like “I’ll order for us.” and I’m thinking hm, weird, you don’t know what I like but okay give it your best shot. He orders these fruity drinks and we go find a seat in a booth. It’s too dark. It’s too loud. I’m squinting in the darkness trying to politely make eye contact while he talks and I can’t hear shit because the music is too loud, awesome right? So I’m like la de da da *bopping head up and down* and chugging my drink. I notice he’s really fidgety, and isn’t making eye contact, just bouncing around in his seat a lot. So I get a little weirded out and I start to think of my grand escape plan. It was like he could read my mind because in that moment he looks up at me and he goes “Sorry, I’m just really nervous” and then my heart was like AW okay he’s not crazy just nervous, cute. I get up and go get us another round of drinks, and we’re talking about shows we’ve been to recently. It was a really great conversation. He asks if I want to walk a few blocks to another bar that plays a lot of metal and old school punk, so I’m thinking wow this date is going so great. We go to a different bar and we’re sitting outside and the stars are shining above us and Black Sabbath is playing and it was just CUTE right? Right.
Towards closing time *cue song by Semisonic* he asks if I want to go back to his house to “see his record collection”. Ha ha, yeah dude lets see that record collection, right? So we get to his place and he’s like “you have to be really quiet though my roommate is sleeping” and I think “Oh god is your roommate your mother?” (She wasn’t, I guess it was just a dude who’s a really light sleeper). We’re in his room and it turns out he really DOES have a cool ass record collection. He showed me all of his Doors records and then puts one on and I’m like yeah okay we’re gonna make out. So we’re on his bed, kissing, and listening to the Doors, how hot is that? Fast forward a little bit and he’s taking his shirt off and putting his shoulder under my head. He goes to turn his body to look at me and all of a sudden I hear this gross *POP*!
And he SCREAMS. Like. Really screams.
So I’m like:
I get up and I’m like “Are you okay!??”
And this dude looks like he is in a world of hurt. Eyes shut, lips pursed, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. Finally, he takes his hand and PUSHES his shoulder backwards, and I hear another *POP.* Then his eyes open and close and he’s just laying there, it doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. I think okay he’s dead… I decide this is definitely my cue to announce my exit right? Wrong. I say “Um… I’m gonna go now.” And he’s like “NO. STAY. Please. Sorry. I dislocated my shoulder in a motorcycle accident and sometimes it just pops out of it’s socket. I have to shove it back in sometimes. I’m fine now. Come back and lay down. Come!”
My dumb ass is standing there with one shoe on and one arm in my jacket looking at him like:
He gets up, and changes the record all casually like NOTHING EVER HAPPENED. I AM STILL STANDING IN THE SAME DAMN SPOT FLABBERGASTED AS HELL LIKE EHMM, WHAT YOU SAY? Then he pulls out a joint and says “I’m gonna smoke, then my arm won’t hurt as bad. Please, stay. I’m sorry that had to happen.”
So I sit down and I’m like okay, this isn’t too bad. So we lay down and he smokes, and I try to cuddle with him and he’s like “OUCH, OH. NOT MY ARM.”
THEN i’m like:
Thinking to myself i’m like okay enough of this I’m too drunk so I’m gonna take my ass to sleep. I’m laying down coffin style, hands across my chest, legs straight, and fall asleep hoping I don’t touch his dislocated shoulder again. In the morning I call an Uber home, and then I never talked to Dislocated Shoulder Boy again. In all honesty it wasn’t THAT bad, or maybe it was, I’m just glad we were only making out when it was dislocated. Imagine being in the middle of having sex and then someone dislocates their shoulder? So, I guess there’s always a bright side to every situation huh. *shrug*.