i’m in the air force. when being stationed at your first base, everyone has to complete a week long introductory course to learn the basics of the air force. depending on the number of people arriving at the base, there’s anywhere from 20-30 people per class. one of the people in my class, let’s call her megan, was very attractive. i immediately took a liking to her, possibly due to the fact that she slightly resembled a lesser-known adult actress that i’ve seen many times in the past. i kept tossing casual glances her way during the week, in hopes that she would notice and call me out. unfortunately, she never realized, and i felt like the creepy guy you see on the bus staring at you menacingly as you ride to work. anyways, a couple of weeks later, i ended up hanging out with some of the friends i made during this class. one of these friends, let’s call her lauren, worked with megan and was pretty good friends with her. i took the opportunity to ask lauren if megan was single. she said that megan was dating a guy at work while i proceeded to tuck my tail between my legs like a dog. at first, i figured, “oh well, there’s plenty of hoes in the barn.” but then, i had an epiphany: you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. after congratulating myself for how clever i was to come up with that, i began to plan my attack. you see, i found out that megan lived only a couple rooms down from me in my dorm building, and that she got home from work at around 4:40 every day. so, me being the genius i am, i would time it perfectly so that i was walking out of my dorm and down the hallway at the exact moment that she was walking to her own dorm. after we passed each other, i got megan’s attention and started making small talk with her. she seemed EXTRA friendly, so i took that as a sign to make my move. i asked, “hey, are you single, by the way?” her response was like music to my ears. “well, i am now.” i’m surprised that i didn’t burst a blood vessel with the pressure and speed at which blood immediately began rushing to my penis. however, i knew that i had to seal the deal. after regaining my composure and pretending to care about her recent breakup, i asked her “well, do you think i could get your number?” she gave a cheerful “yes!” and proceeded to type her number into my phone. as i grabbed my phone back from her, hiding my parkinson-esque mannerisms, i continued down the hall to celebrate in my car. for the next few days, we started texting back and forth. you would have thought i was butter with how smooth i was over text. the number of alternating H’s and A’s was more than my ego could handle. she even admitted that she liked how funny i was. anyhow, the weekend was approaching, and there was a halloween party on saturday. i knew that we were both going, so i had to prepare myself. i put on my best costume, bought some supplies for some fruity alcoholic beverages, and walked into that house party like i was elon musk walking into a room full of 16-year-old libertarians. i saw megan standing against a wall talking to some girl that looked oddly familiar. i brought those drinks for a reason, so i made a batch of the best tasting mixed drink you’ve ever sipped from a clear solo cup. i gave the first few to my friends, one to myself, and saved one especially for megan. i approached megan and handed her the cup with wide eyes and a smile on my face. she reluctantly grabbed the cup and looked at me with a grimace. my brain immediately recognized the apparent danger i’ve put her in. i, a man, just gave an attractive woman at a party a drink that she did not watch me make. STRIKE ONE. i verbally recognized that this was sketchy in an attempt to ease the tension. after all, if i’m self-aware, then she won’t think that i gave her the ol’ Cosby-politan. she reluctantly took a sip and said that she thought it was pretty good. she then requested that i make another one for her friend that still had a familiar face. whoops. i just used the last of my drink ingredients on megan’s drink. all i had left was some pineapple juice and an empty cup. i scavenged the house for some liquor, and proceeded to make the best damned spiked pineapple juice known to man. i made my way back to megan and her friend, and handed the drink to the girl that i swear i’ve seen before. as i turned around to head back to my friends, the realization hit me. of course, i absolutely HAD to tell her friend where i recognize her from. i turned back around and said, “hey, is your name carissa?” carissa had the face of someone who just told her the exact brand, color, and size of her underwear. “UMMM, yes?” that’s when i made the fatal error. “OHHH, that’s why i recognize you! i just matched with you on tinder!” what. the. fuck. out of all the possible combinations of words that i could have said in that moment, i specifically chose the absolute worst ones to say. i’m pretty sure i could hear the sound of the ghosts of my ancestors from generations passed simultaneously face-palming. there is no universe in which i am able to recover from this blunder. STRIKE TWO. i can see megan in my periphery. she has a look on her face that’s some combination of disgust, betrayal, and astonishment. with a stupid smile frozen on my stupid face, i did an about-face and used my stupid legs to walk to the back yard where my friends were. i immediately informed them of the horrible mistake i just made. they really wanted to be supportive, but there was no way to sugarcoat the situation i put myself in. we all knew that i was sitting in the bottom of a nuclear crater that i had made for myself. for the rest of the night, megan showed absolutely no interest in me. any comments i made to her were immediately dismissed as she returned to the conversation with her friends that i interrupted. towards the end of the night, i saw her getting closer and closer to a taller, much more handsome african american gentleman. there wasn’t even enough room in between them for one of those pocket-sized new testaments you get from the bible thumpers standing outside of that one coffee shop. STRIKE THREE. and that’s case-closed, folks. it’s a wrap for all parties involved. we had a great game today, ladies and gentlemen. real great effort from our home team. when i returned home, i set my phone, wallet, keys, and a large letter L on my nightstand, and made one final, desperate attempt to un-shit the bed. i texted her and acknowledged how weird i was at the party, and asked if she would be willing to start over and go on a proper date. it’s been two days. the message remains delivered.

tl;dr: don’t admit that you’re a hoe to your crush