Me: I can think of two Black guys on this campus that I would actually date–well, that I know well and would actually date.
KS: Is [name redacted, 1] one of them?
KS: Is [name redacted, 2] the other?
Me: No. [High school me would have dated him, which probably explains why freshman year me was somewhat obsessed.]
KS: *ponders who the other might be*
Me: You know, I’m starting to think that not making any moves towards something happening with [name redacted, 1] might be one of the things I regret most about my time here. He’s moving to [location redacted] and he doesn’t really love this place, so I’m not sure he’ll be around at reunions all that often and I feel like I’ve run out of time.
KS: So make a move! Call him up tomorrow and be like, “If I wanted to have babies, I’d have yours, but I don’t…”
…I laughed at his ridiculousness then, and confessed that I’d been contemplating trying to hook up with him just so I wouldn’t have to always wonder what it would have been like, but I keep hearing him say that in my head. What’s keeping me from telling him how much more I’d like to be around him, at the very least? Why did we never actually act on any of the mutually-agree-that-we-should-hang-out-more-when-running-into-each-other-at-a-party things? What do I have to lose?
[name redacted, 2] and I agreed to have lunch sometime this week, but I’m less sure about how I feel about him than I am about [name redacted, 1].
And speaking about people I want to hook up with, I’m trying to find a non-sketchy way to reach out to the female friend of mine who propositioned me earlier in the year about making that actually happen sometime soon, and maybe this is just my frustration talking, but I’ve started to notice that every time I’m in the same room as the first guy I ever hooked up with at Princeton, I think about giving him a round two.