Dessert party disasters


If I have to meet you at a dessert party, count me out. I will walk in, already feeling intimidated at the level of socioeconomic status in the room. I will glance around and notice all the girls in the bright, trendy red lips. I will probably laugh at all the guys who are flirting but never doing anything more because they haven’t talked to the tall, thin girl with long hair yet. I’ll wonder why all the girls are chewing gum instead of letting themselves indulge in a treat they slaved hours over. Maybe it was to impress you? Maybe to show willpower? I may notice other guys but they will look above me because I am not a walking J.Crew model. I might make eye contact with you several times. There is about a 25 percent chance you will talk to me, and if you do we will most likely engage in small talk and other meaningless chatter. We will talk about where we are from and our majors. Maybe you are interested, but if you are, you won’t do anything. Because that’s what we do in Provo: meet girls and guys at dessert parties and expect it to go somewhere. So, if I have to meet you at a dessert party, count me out.

Chelsea Westmoreland
Yuba City, California

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