Consequences

The Beginning

   I crinkle the wrapper of my now-empty Taco Bell burrito I just devoured. Freshman fifteen? At this pace I'll be at my freshman fifty by the end of second semester. I continue right swipe after right swipe on Tinder, and sigh an exasperated sigh.
  "B," I turn to my college roommate, who's also swiping on Tinder, "I think I've decided that all boys are trash." B, also known as Brooklyn, laughs.
  "Girl shut up. What happened to that guy you were talking to like literally last week?  I thought you were genuinely interested in him. He was funny and ten times hotter than Jay."
  Jay, also know. as my ex-boyfriend. We dated for nearly three years, he was my high school sweetheart, and I was sure we were end-game. Like they say, never bring a boy to college.
  "He's a total douchebag B," I said. "Did you forget about the jersey incident?"
  Her face flashed red as she remembered how he screwed me over and mentally slapped herself for bringing it up.
  "I'm sorry Kate. But if he was willing to put you in that situation and laugh about it then you are obviously better without him. If you'd quit looking for a relationship and just let it come naturally then you wouldn't keep getting screwed over like this."
  I knew in my heart she was right, but since Jay walked out of my life I felt a piece of me was missing. I desperately wanted to fill that hole, and so far it's been boy from the bar after boy from the bar and they all just leave me disappointed.
  "I'm going to sleep, can you turn off your lamp?" Brooklyn asked me.
  "Yeah I guess." I said. "10:30 B? Are you 18 or 80?" I threw a pillow at her, mocking her early bedtime.
  "Shut up," she laughs. I turn out my lamp and turn over, I hear her open her bottle of Melatonin and eventually her snores echo the room.
  I, however, am still wide awake. No way I can fall asleep before midnight, at least. The consequences of staying out partying every other night, I suppose. After skipping back and forth between Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, I discover that I've seen everything there is to see and that everyone has gone to sleep but me. That loneliness that you feel only when the world is quiet starts to creep in. My body feels heavy and my breathing slows. I make jokes about what happened with Brady, the guy B brought up, but he really did hurt me. How can a guy go from talking about making you his girlfriend to not a care whether you die or not in less than 24 hours? I don't understand it. Not one bit. Maybe I got too invested too quickly. Maybe it was my fault. Or maybe, genuinely, all guys are the same, and for the rest of my life I'll have disappoint after disappointment until everyone I know is married and I'm 40 and alone. That thought scared me. In part because I thought I would be the first of my friend group to get married, my future secured.
  Jay treated me well; he was going to get his degree, a steady job guaranteed with a hefty income, and we were going to move to Florida and have three children together. It was the dream: marrying my best friend. Then with no warning it all came crashing down around me. I had to start over. I had given everything to this guy, how the hell was I supposed to start over? Nothing made sense. I trusted him with everything: my passwords, my location, my family, even my virginity. We had even started celebrating holidays as a joint family. We shared a Hulu and Apple Music account. We adopted a fish and a hamster together. Then he decides he's 'not happy' anymore? 'You've changed, we're too different now'? He didn't even want to fight for me.
  The tears well in my eyes and I turn to the only guy who's never disappointed me and I begin to pray. If for nothing else I was hoping to ease my anxieties, my bad thoughts.
  "God, I don't know what Your plan is, and I know your timing is perfect and all, but I'm about to write guys off for good. They've done nothing but bring me pain my entire life and I don't think I can handle another disappointment. If You have someone set apart for me to marry one day, please put him in my life soon. Amen."
  I sigh, feeling a little better. 12:46 my clock says, time to set an alarm for class in the morning and try to fall asleep. Just then I get a notification from Tinder, someone named Barry sent me a new message. Fantastic, another jerk-wad with low-quality pictures and a truck is asking me to hookup. Can't wait. I open it and view his profile. I'm pleasantly surprised to see that he's darkishly handsome. He's 24, he's a grad student at my school, and his bio doesn't make me cringe. For once I feel a little hopeful. He sent a basic greeting, and I message back "hi". Real clever, Kate, he's probably thinking you're trying to blow him off. You've got to respond less dry if you want to have an actual conversation with this guy. He asks a few questions about me, I keep it flirtatious but shallow. He doesn't need to know details about me just yet. What if he's a stalker or murderer or something? I ask him similar questions, and he manages to dodge all of them with clever humor. Well-played, I think.
  Ten minutes of messaging later, and I'm smiling at my phone, thinking of a witty comeback. This guy is fantastic, finally someone who can keep up with my sarcasm. I look over his profile once more and see that he's from Spain. Damn, I think, I bet he has an accent. Hot.
  "If I could tell my friends back home that I got to take out a cheerleader, I would be a legend", he types. I'm actually on the dance team, but why crush his dreams?
  "Well, I'd hate to make you miss such an amazing opportunity", I respond back.
  He asks me when I'm free this week. Oh my gosh. Am I actually going to do this? I look to B who's fast asleep on her bed. Oh no, I've never actually met up with one of my Tinder guys before. If anything we just start a streak or something. I check my calendar and I'm free after classes on Wednesday. That's two days away, plenty of time for me to raincheck when I talk to B in the morning and she talks me out of it.
  "Anytime after 4:45 Wednesday would work for me," I hesitate, then I press send.
  He's typing. I'm doing this. Okay. It's fine. I smile, he suggests a coffee shop on campus at 5. A safe, neutral spot. Perfect. We exchange numbers and say goodnight. With flutters in my heart and knots in my stomach, I flip my phone over and drift to sleep.