Not Girlfriend Material

I’d like to take a moment today to reflect on the crazy idiot I used to be.
I’ve chosen to title this, not girlfriend material because 
that is exactly what a guy told me I was (or wasn’t) Junior year of college.
Not. Girlfriend. Material.

I like to think it was because he had really old fashioned values.
He said if we were to date, I’d need to dial back the drinking.
And the going out.
And generally act like someone who could be an Engineer’s wife.

Needless to say, that didn’t happen.

Whatever, we all know that the person I was really dating in college was Kaylin.
If dating means that you spend all your time together, enjoy each others company more than anyone else, and often sleep in the same bed. Then yes, we were basically dating.

An event called Mafia Wedding. So many things wrong right with this picture.
It’s funny that now, just three years (cringe) out of college,  
I’ve been dating “the guy” for almost 2 years. 
He thinks I’m a good cook (or pretends to).
He won’t get mad if I change the channel away from ESPN.
I don’t really drink anymore.
And I’m pretty sure  I know damn right well he thinks I’ll be a good wife.

But man, do I have some memories.
Like the time Kaylin and I partied on 6th street in Austin in the middle of a hurricane.
Or the time I got stuck in an elevator in Paris. Drunk. On Bastille Day.
Or all those times I did karaoke at a crowded bar and picked “Don’t Stop Believin” every single time.
Or even that last night of college that I don’t quite remember.

So I’d like to thank that guy who said I wasn’t girlfriend material.
Maybe I wasn’t. But because he didn’t want to date me,
I did my own thing and was single for another 2 years.
When I look back, I’m so grateful for that time that I had to myself.
Growing up the stupid way.

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