My subconscious thinks his name is Ben.

[Updated over a year into my relationship with "Ben" on 10/25/14: 

I indeed accepted this guy's offer to hang out again, mainly because I can't turn away a mystery: What was his name? What did he look like? Where did I leave my underwear? I needed answers to all of these questions. 

And it turned out, my subconscious was wrong about everything you'll read later on in this blog. His name was Bill, not Ben. He had never even been to Rutland, so he wasn't born there. He was in fact from New York all along. I would learn all of these things as our first technical date progressed and I began to realize that maybe I could learn to like this guy... as long I stayed sober enough to remember him, of course. 

Learning his name was way too easy, by the way. Because it was pouring rain, we opted to go bowling and then get food. As we decided to go bowling first, that resulted in him writing his name on the screen that keeps score, and there I had it. Bill. I was simultaneously relieved that I wouldn't have to spend the rest of the date wondering what to call him while disappointed that I wasn't going to have to super sleuth my way to the bottom of it, Agatha Christie style. 

 The big surprise didn't come until we went and had dinner, however. As we were discussing the arbitrary things all do on first dates -I like to read books and watch porn. My favorite color is any color where you are naked. I'm so super normal, never spend all of my money on sequined cardigans, and only drink on every day- I mentioned that my main passion was writing and I had a blog and it was sort of my baby.  He smiled, nodded his head, and announced "yeah, I've read it."

:::ZACK MORRIS TIME-OUT: The blog below, which you are about to read, was put up a week before Bill and I's first actual date. That being said, if he had actually made a trip to "Grossly Negligent" before picking me up that day, he undoubtedly had read everything you are about to read, which means he knew I remembered nothing about him. He knew I didn't know his name. He knew I thought he was born in Rutland. He knew I had no idea what he looked like. He knew I was just playing it cool the whole time trying to dig up this information. For the first time pretty much ever, a dude was two steps ahead of me. Aside from the actual shock of that, I knew if I didn't find a smooth way out, my life at Bayside was over. TIME IN:::

After he admitted that he, in fact, knew I remembered absolutely nothing about him at all, the rest of the date carried on with a lot of laughs, alcohol, and citations from the police as we got busted bare-ass naked, doing it in the parking lot of the local rec park. The obvious perfect way to end any date as 28 year old adults, because nothing says "this could last forever" like warning tickets for lewd conduct in a public place. 

The night ended with fuzzy feelings, an orgasm interrupted in the back of a Volkswagon by the police, and another date scheduled. The citation ticket is now proudly displayed on my fridge and "Ben from Rutland" is now my best friend with super sweet sex benefits. Who knew? Certainly not my subconscious. 

Anyway, read on to see how it all started. And if you already have read it -cool, I like you a lot more then.

p.s. Bill had my underwear and even washed them for me before he returned them. A true Prince Charming of drunk night's past and another mystery solved. ]


—Original Post published on June 6, 2013—

Narrator: Dating can be a confusing time as you’re juggling names and numbers and date times and text messages. Who’s more fun? Who wears better sneakers? Who has the best genes to incubate in your uterus? Statistically, who provides the highest chances of taking you on a killer whale adventure in the future? Oh, and… what was his name again? Occasionally, you have to get down to brass tacks with a friend and consult your guardian angel bestie- your subconscious.

(Scene opens to two chick roommates sitting at a kitchen table laughing at inane things and discussing what they ate for the day. Rebecca sits eating a plate of grilled vegetables, her curly hair put back in a clip, while Becki sits in a sundress not caring if anyone can see up it mainly because it is too late for such a concern. A soft, smoky haze clouds the lit room. Through fits of laughter the final conversation of the night was this…)

Becki: So, that dude from the other night texted me tonight. He wants to take me out.

Rebecca: Oh? (raises eyebrows) I admire your ability to obviously care for someone else, but keep going out on dates. Most girls would be at home staring at their cell phone waiting for him to call.

(Becki -who is at home- looks up from staring at her cell phone probably waiting for him to call.)

Rebecca: Yeah, so what’s this other dude’s name?

Becki: (Quizzical expression accompanied by silence that is loud with the sound of thinking) I don’t remember. I have no idea. (returning the smirk that Rebecca was giving her) I know it’s his number because he called me so that I could add him as a contact, but I clearly didn’t think that was important. (Throws up a hand in general epiphany) WAIT A MINUTE! I think his name is Ben. Yeah, Ben. That sounds right.

Rebecca: Ben? (fighting fits of laughter) Wait a minute, dude. Remember when earlier that day we were on the porch and you were talking about Matty, but I thought you said Ben and I was like “who’s Ben?” (doubles over in a rip-roaring laugh)

Becki: Yeah I remember that, but I didn’t know (throws up universal sign for quotations)”Ben” then. I met him later that night. (puzzled face)

Rebecca: Yeah, I know dude!

Becki: I didn’t say Ben when we were on the porch.

Rebecca: I know. (She takes one hand and places it on her chest proudly.) I have ESP.

(Both girls laugh.)

Becki: You predicted my future.

Rebecca: No really, do you think because I had used that name earlier it’s just in your head?

Becki: Yeah, like my subconscious?

Rebecca: (in a voice people only use to mock others) My subconscious thinks his name is Ben.

(Both girls laugh for a good 30 seconds so hard no sound escapes.)

Rebecca: What’s his last name?

Becki: I don’t even remember his first name!

Rebecca: Oh, right. Yeah, you wouldn’t know that. (laughing) How about his birthplace? Maybe we could narrow it down with that. (Both girls double over again.)

Becki: (face goes from jubilant giggling to serious) No, I think I may know that actually. I think I know where he was born. I’m pretty sure he was born in Rutland.

Rebecca: (robust laughter followed by the voice people only use to mock someone) My subconscious thinks his name is Ben and that he was born in Rutland, Vermont.

Becki: For some reason, I think I remember that. Seriously.

Rebecca: (mocking voice pretending she is Becki once again) I don’t remember his name but I remember his birthplace and the name of his first childhood pet. I could possibly also know his favorite color.

(A full minute of just laughter from the two girls. While Rebecca checks her email, Becki peruses the list on Facebook she has called “null and void” which is exclusively dudes she has had previous sexual relations with.)

Rebecca: Maybe you should go to where you met and be like “I’m looking for someone. My subconscious thinks his name is Ben maybe and that he was born in Rutland, Vermont… or some place that sounds like Rutland, maybe in Vermont, but maybe not…? Do you know him?”

Becki: My subconscious is like a dream catcher.

Rebecca: I’m from Rutland. I probably know him. Well, if your subconscious is correct.

Becki: He has a New York area code, but I don’t think he’s from New York.

Rebecca: Wait, what’s he look like?

Becki: (smirk that indicates she’s going to have to dig deep into the depths of her mind for this one) I don’t actually know. Uh, cute. I think I remember him being cute.

Rebecca: (mocking voice pretending to be Becki) My subconscious thinks his name is Ben and that he was born in Rutland, Vermont. My subconscious also thinks that he was possibly cute, but can provide no further details of his appearance.

Becki: My subconscious must have been wooing.

Rebecca: oh, you. Let’s think of all the different things we can put him in your phone as.

(Scene fades with both girls holding their stomachs from what is a typical single girl’s tribulations and after creating countless contact names for “Ben,” they make their way to their respective beds. Rebecca writes on Becki’s Facebook wall ‘sup?’ right before crawling into bed and as Becki walks back to her room to write the blog you have almost finished reading, she has the random thought: When I get married, I’m not sashaying, two-step graduation style down the aisle to “Here Comes the Bride.” Nope, I’m flowing down that aisle to Bob Marley’s “Stir it Up.”)

Narrator: So, will she go on the date? If only to figure out if her subconscious has actually got her back? Or will she simply disregard his texts that came in exactly three days after their unmemorable encounter? Maybe she will stop giving out her number to strangers? Or maybe she will consult her brother who will say “Becki, go look in the mirror. You see yourself? Now slap the retard out of your face.”

Only time will tell.

For now, what we do know thanks to Becki’s subconscious so far is:

-His name may or may not be Ben.

-He may or may not have been born in Rutland, Vermont.

-He could possibly be cute.

-He has a NY area code, but may or may not be from NY.

-He may or not have been wearing a striped, collared shirt.

-He may or may not be Becki’s soul mate.

Stay tuned.

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One Response to My subconscious thinks his name is Ben.

  1. Micah says:

    great stuff.

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