T. and I went to a Vanderbilt baseball game on our first date. Needless to say it went really, really well. I'd never truly connected with another soul the way Taylor and I connected on that date, you know? Anyways. I kinda wanna go to another sports thing with her. But I mean. Like. Does T. even like sports? Because going to a baseball game? Yea, that's not about sports. That's about hot dogs and fries and ice cream and soda or beer and sitting in the sun and looking really rad in your new sunglasses and not even realizing that the pitcher's got a no-hitter going until the seventh inning and him promptly giving up a homerun the second you realized what was going on. Way to jinx the pitcher, jerk. So yea. If you happen to know whether or not 13 would be keen on going to a basketball game with me, hit me up via email, Twitter, Facebook, whatever. Many thanks.
Whether or not Taylor and I are going to get married is not the big question. We're going to fall in love and we're going to get married and it's going to be awesome and we're going to live happily ever after and that's that. The big question is whether or not our cats are going to get along. Because Greg the Cat isn't socialized. It's just been Greg and me flying solo for two years now. And he's only two years old. So yea. The bachelor pad lifestyle is all he's ever known. He's met a cat or two. And, well, it hasn't gone well. So Greg, meet Meredith. Meredith, Greg. Please be friends. Because Mom and Dad are getting married. I love you Greg, but I won't let your antisocial disposition deprive me of true love.
So at some point T. and I are gonna have to sit down and I'm gonna be like, "We need to talk." And she's gonna be all, "OMG, WTF, I'm nervous!" And I'm gonna be like, "Look. 13. You know I love you and I'd never do anything to hurt you, right? And you know you're the only one for me, right?" And she's gonna be all, "Yea, of course!" But it's a timid answer, you know? There's an exclamation point there, but it's really just there to cover up her uncertainty.
So I take a deep breath and I'm all, "So there's this girl. This beautiful young woman. Florrie." And I dive deep into a past I thought I'd left behind. A past where I was with Florrie. And by "was with Florrie" I mean "was a corporate paralegal that watched Florrie videos on repeat every miserable day of every miserable week." I dunno. I mean yea Florrie was my first true love, but I don't think that'll bother T. Taylor is perfect, after all. I could honestly never imagine being with anyone else.
So I was watching Girls the other day and Lena Dunham's crazy boyfriend was all, "Bro, you are so fat. You literally have to start running and stuff." And she was like, "Bah, but I don't wanna!" And I think he pinched her tummy fat or something and she was like, "Bah, don't do that!" And then they started running and she fell to the ground and then they either finished running or didn't or something. I think he might've given her a piggyback ride or something.
Whatever. Not important. Yo. Last time I went to the doctor I was just chilling or whatever and dude grabbed my tummy fat and was like, "You need to chill on the noms and do some exercising, bro." And I was like, "Don't 'bro' me after you call me fat, guy." Anyways. I wonder if 13 would be keen to exercise with me. Not like benching and doing squats and stuff. But maybe like. Hiking? I dunno. Hiking is 476% not my scene, but I think Taylor would make it rad, right?
I'm way too shy (see: insecure) to do karaoke. You know when close groups of friends rent small rooms and get blasted and sing songs together? Yea, I'm too much of a nervous wreck to handle something like that. But karaoke with Taylor? Bring. It. On. I could sing Taking Back Sunday to my heart's content. And wail, and scream, and cry. And no matter what everyone else in the room thought, no matter how much they judged me. Doesn't matter. Because in the end. I can look up. Right into 13's eyes. And see her smile. And nothing else in the world matters. And the pain. The embarrassment. The nervousness. It was all worth it in the end. Just to see that smile.
OK so all of my friends are all, "OMG Greg, you have the easiest job ever! You don't do anything!" And I'm like, "Chill. I do something. People aren't paying me to just hang out or whatever. Like. I'm not handsome or likable enough for people to pay me to just exist somewhere." So they're all, "LOL, what do you do?!" And then I explain to them that DJing is like a skill set or something or whatever and blah, blah, blah and I try to explain that I'm not a joke of a human even though I am a total joke of a human.
Anyways. Eventually I'm gonna have to explain this whole "DJ" thing to T. And where better to do that than at one of Scott Melker's Melker Project shows? In addition to being one of my favorite humans in the whole wide world, Scott's one of the best DJs I know. Like he can scratch and play real vinyl records and stuff! Whoa, crazy! So I'll be all, "Ayo Scott, lemme get that backstage pass access thing or whatever." And he won't give it to me so I'll ask Taylor to ask her people to ask Scott's people to get us backstage and it'll probably happen because 13 is an international superstar. (And you just don't say "no" to someone as sweet as T.) And we'll watch him from the side of the stage and I'll pretend to fully understand what he's doing and 13 will pretend that I'm doing a good job of explaining it and it's gonna be pretty rad. Love you, T.
Hermione's definitely my first girlfriend. We're young, she's crazy hot, and I pretend like she isn't totally overbearing. Like seriously. She seems like a good girl, but she and I definitely aren't compatible. So we break up, I get over it, whatever. I get back in the game, and there's Fleur Delacour. Man, she's hot. Like maybe not as hot as Hermione, but probably a more conventional hot, you know? But we don't really take one another seriously. We kind of have our thing and it's fun and it's fiery, but it's over relatively quickly and without much drama. Which of course leads to Ginny Weasley, who's obviously The One. We have a relationship that's both emotionally and sexually fulfilling, and everything rules.
And then I marry Taylor Swift because T. is actually The One and deep down I know that even the incredible Ginny Weasley could never make me half as happy as 13.
Just moved to a big boy apartment and. Oh. My. God. I feel like my dream life with T. is closer than ever. Floor-to-ceiling windows will be perfect for lazily gazing on lazy Sundays in bed. Cable will be perfect for Law & Order marathons on random nights in. Two closets is obviously perfect for a two-person wardrobe, but more importantly for extra hiding spots for extra cats. Medicine cabinet divisions are perfect for a young person's version of a his-and-hers bathroom. Etc. Etc. Etc. Marriage, cuddling, cats, purring, I love Taylor Swift so much, OMG.