As the summer came to a close, I introduced my mother... for the first time ever... to one of my boyfriends (ex646)... as my actual boyfriend, as in, mom "this is my boyfriend, ex646"... typically if my mother ever met a boyfriend, she knew him before... and I usually said... "oh, haha, noooo he's not my boyfriend... we're just going to prom/homecoming/church camp dance/the concert together."
My father has only known one of my boyfriends... A really handsome guy I dated in high school, we'll call ex73. And aside from ex73 coming over to the band booster concession stand to see where I was or if my pops could drop him off at home, I'm not really sure they had many interactions... because I was always horribly awkward around the boyfriend/parent combo. I actually broke up with ex73 because I felt sooooooo awkward whenever they were in the same place, not because I didn't like him and not because he wasn't awesome (he totally was), but because I felt like a 5 year old playing house with her Barbies, saying, "hey dad, what's this? A barbie? Noooo I'm totally using it as a prop for um... um... a computer science project... yeah... as a um... a model... yeah.... I'm not playing with BARBIES?! PSSSSH. I'm totally grown up because, look, I have a boyfriend!"
I blame this on the fact that my parents never really talked about dating all that much... probably because they didn't know that much about it..
See... they met as sophomores in high school... got married a few months out of high school... and have been together for 38 years on November 16... Aside from talking about their storybook romance (which is soooo sweet, truly) they never really sat my brother or me down to really talk about how to negotiate the world of building emotional intimacy and trust in a loving and fruitful relationship... I just had to guess, by watching.
My mother met ex646 and liked him straight off. She thought he was a sweetheart, and she could tell that he really cared for me.
But 2 days later he was gone back to where ever it is he's from (yes, I know where he's from but I'm not telling), and I got a bit upset. See, he really didn't tell me he was leaving, until I got back to DC from Texas, and I felt alone and confused and after drinking with the men's club hockey team for the better part of 4 hours, I was trashed.
Do you know how many rounds of quarters you have to play in order to beat an entire hockey team... I don't know either, but I can tell you however many rounds you have to play... I played. When I beat the final guy, he literally said, "shit, I've never seen a girl drink that much."
Damn right - I beat them. I have witnesses. I don't know who they are, but I know that there were witnesses, because they high-fived me across campus for two-weeks afterwards... but still no idea who they are. Anyways, for the first time since St. Patricks Day, I was trashed off my ass.
This was also the first time since my cousin died over the summer from drunk driving that I decided it was o.k. to be drinking... which doubled how bad I felt on top of the alcohol, because my, "meh, just a little" turned into an entire keg... and as I huddled in a corner sniffling and pondering why I was a horrible alcoholic (I know... two nights of drunk revelry does not an alcoholic make, but I was naive), I texted Can-Can Boy and told him how I was a horrible person and... blah blah blah. (yep in my early stages I was the apologetic/sad drinking person), and he talked me down (or maybe I imagined all this... it's possible - So. Much. Booze).
After that night, the late night conversations had been established with Can-Can Boy. It was a free for all. Any time of day or night became o.k. to text/call, much to the chagrin of my boyfriend.
"LoRo, why is someone calling you at 3 a.m?"
"LoRo, why is someone texting you at 4 a.m.?"
"LoRo, who is that? Don't they know it's 5 in the frickin' morning?"
He knew what time it was... because he was typically drunk, but his mantra was, 'hey, I started it!'
As the semester went on, he'd text during the day too. He'd call during the day. Time didn't matter because for some bizarre reason, we had become close friends... over 800 miles away from each other.
When he went to buy the ring for his girlfriend, and she broke up with him in the parking lot over the phone, who did he call? Me.
Yeah, I still don't know why he called me, but he did, and I answered even though I was in the library for mandated study-time, and I definitely was not supposed to be on my phone in public areas... and I definitely was not supposed to be talking to boys (why? just accept that I wasn't supposed to be doing it, ok).
So as he dealt with the emotional holocaust that occurred due to imagining that he was going to marry some girl, he pulled me in on it, like the lifeboats on the Titanic pulled down by the suction of a massive vessel slipping below the water. And I had lots of guy friends, so I was accustomed to dealing with man drama. So I was there when he needed me, whenever he needed me.
That's when I started answering his phone calls at 2/3/4 a.m.
I'm not sure exactly when, but as the months went on, I realized that I was not in the relationship I wanted to be in, not that I necessarily wanted to be in a relationship with Can-Can Boy, but that what I had wasn't what I needed at that time. So, I trampled the heart of ex646, and we split.
The next 6 months was a free for all of embracing who I was, who I wanted to be, and what I wanted to do.
This involved a lot of booze and boys, lots of boys. Actually it involved any boy that would hold my hand for longer than 2 seconds and could reach me via cell phone. I slipped into the world of midnight make out sessions and cuddling during bad movies (seriously 30 Days of Night? WHO MADE THAT SHIT?!)
When the semester ended, I was by myself the majority of the summer chillin' on campus bored out of my mind, which meant lots of texting/calling/skyping with Can-Can Boy (or anyone who would pay attention to me). And before I knew it. He was professing his love over the telephone, and I didn't know what to do. See, he was drunk and I don't fall in love very easily.
I fall into infatuation faster than you can say, "uh," but love that's very, very different, so to have someone drunkenly spouting out their love for me, was overwhelming when I hadn't seen him in a year.
So I did what every girl would do in my situation and went out to a bar with N for her birthday, I met a guy we'll call MrBaseball who was visiting for the weekend, then I met SexyFace and took him up on his promises - his very drunken promises... but hell I had so many fuckin' kamikazes it seemed like a perfect decision...
A week later I was driving back to Texas from DC (long - ass - drive), and Can-Can Boy convinced me it would be a good decision to see him on my way home. . . because, guys, he "loved" me. So curious to see what was there... I told my mom we needed to make a stop-over.
I need to tell you right now... MrBaseball lived in the same state that Can-Can Boy does... so you can see where this is going.
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