Giving the recap to The Bestest Friend the next day:

Me: “Dude, we didn’t hook up.”

Her: “Like at all?”

Me: “If it was some, it would’ve been all.”

Her: “Was he drunk?”

Me: “I hope not. He was our driver. It’s weird, right? Tell me it’s weird.”

Her: “No, it’s weird. Who would turn that down? Was he tired?”

Me: “Not particularly – and usually he was a fan of mornings. Maybe there’s someone else. Or if he thinks I want strings – could he be paranoid that I want strings? I don’t want strings.”

Her: “Someone else? But you said he wasn’t dating someone. What if he’s holding out for [newly-single high-school friend]?”

Me: “Thanks for that thought.”

Her: “You were already thinking it. It must be he thinks you want strings … or something. I don’t know.”

Me: “Maybe I’m just a bad lay.”

Her: “You can’t be.”

Me: “You don’t know.”

Her: “No, I mean, girls can’t be. Like in general.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Her: “Well, really, they just have to lie there. And that’s pretty much good enough. I mean, there’s varying degrees of good, but no one is really like, BAD because you know, at least the guy is getting laid.”

Me: “This doesn’t seem logical.”

Her: “No, it is. Unless you like cry or something.”

Me: “Hmm, I don’t cry.”

Her: “Then I promise you’re not a bad lay. He must just not like you.”

Me: “This has been very helpful.”

Her: “You’re welcome.”

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