Dear Boy I Had Dinner With Last Week,

It was great seeing you after 2 years, though this evening made me ask myself some probing questions I’m not sure anyone will ever answer.

When will boys realize that when I invite them over to play video games, I would actually like to play video games and not make-out? If I wanted to make out, I would probably say something really saucy over the course of our romantic dinner. But instead, after the romantic dinner, you said you had to kill time before your train back to New Jersey, and I said I had a Playstation.

Contrary to popular belief, “Playstation” is not code for “Vagina.” Guitar Hero is not laden with symbolism for my aching need to be naked with you, especially when we’re playing songs like “Trogdor the Burninator” and “John the Fisherman”. When you went in for a move, I went straight to “Misirilou”.

In fact, once I thought you had started to assume that things I was doing on the video game system were, in fact, secret messages to you, I immediately switched gears and put in Resident Evil 4. How’s that for a secret message? Zombie Lust? I don’t think so.

There were times when I could sort-of understand the mixed signals. You ordered a bottle of wine for the table, but then drank all of it yourself. You talked about working at Macy’s and having girls slap you in the face. And though, sure, by the end of it all my hands were shaking with anticipation, it was only to see if I would make it into Queens in Grand Theft Auto, which is weird, because I’m never excited about going to Queens.

During what must have been a frustrating and alcoholic experience for you, you asked “Why am I here?” I’m not qualified to answer questions of such existential weight, but I am up to playing songs on “Hard” on Guitar Hero, and boy does that orange note make a real mess of things! Also, that question probably should have been a part of your inner monologue. (I’m a drama teacher, so I know about things like that.) If things weren’t already awkward, you sure threw in your own orange note for a twist!

You never came straight out and said anything else, you just said what a nice time you had and hoped we could do it again sometime. I would have loved to go out with you again sometime, had our first time seeing each other after two years not been so weird and awkward.

The next morning you sent me a text message saying “You have a nice room, maybe when we have time you can show me more of what you wanted to.” I get it. You just couldn’t get enough of my zombie-killing, prostitute-mugging, guitar-playing-self. You want it? Yeah baby, you got it.

If nothing else, I’ve learned that having a video game system is an excellent lure for men in their 20’s back to your apartment, even if you’re not interested.