The beginning?well that isn?t really the right place to start this particular tale. No not there, that would take more time then I could ask any sane person to suffer through. So instead of the beginning, I think I?ll start in the middle.
I?ve never had much luck with relationships. For all my slutty ways, I?ve only ever been in three long term relationships. And for those of you that might not know, I?ll define the phrase ?long term relationship?.
For me, long term relationship is defined, anything that last more than a week.
What? I tell the truth, even if it?s ugly. It just so happens that most of my truths are a bit dirty.
Last go back for a bit and I?ll tell you another dirty truth. My first long term relationship was with a boy named, Jason. You might remember this almost straight boy that held my heart in his hand so tightly. After all, I did agree to be his best man a few years later when he got married to this chick he met in a bar.
Jason was also the same boy that showed up at my apartment the night before his wedding for a final taste of the love that dare not speak its name.
(For those of you that are/might be interested in knowing more about this boy, check out my Blog at Awesome Dude for an entry called, I?ll Never Wear Boxers Again.)
I guess it was his way of thanking me for not telling his soon to be wife about our ?special bond? and the four years we spent together.
And if I am to be speaking truths right now, I must be honest. That sacrifice of silence nearly destroyed me. Jason never knew just how much I loved him. I know this as fact, because each time we slept together, I made sure to say what we were doing, was nothing more than fun. Two close friends helping each other out.
I was so worried, petrified actually, about scaring him away, never daring to show my true feelings out of fear that he would run to the hills.
That fear was founded on too many fucking conversations we had over the years. Often, usually the morning after our sex was particularly passionate, he would tell me that he wasn?t gay, and that his one wish in this journey we call life was to find a wife and have a family.
At first I thought, scratch that, I hoped, it was nothing but bravado mixed with self denial. So I would downplay my feelings, hoping to give him room and the time to sort out his emotions.
I remember there was a time about a year into whatever we were doing, that he was dating this chick from two towns over. Every single Friday night, after he got off work, he would drive forty-five minutes to her and be gone all weekend only to return to me Sunday night.
What a fucked up pair we made back then, Monday thru Thursday, we lived together, ate together, laughed together, got drunk together, and slept together. And then Friday night he would leave.
And every fucking time, I would swear that when he returned, I would tell him exactly how I felt. Sadly, I never really seemed to muster the courage.
This went on for about four months. And trust me; they were the longest four months of my life.
It was horrible, on the surface I had everything I ever wanted, never mind the small fact that I had to keep it all a secret and ignore that in front of our friends, I got to hear about this chick and how happy he was spending each weekend with her.
It was taking a toll, I started drinking heavily again and that turned into treating him like shit, basically behaving like a jealous school girl who can?t understand that her English teacher is already happily married and has no intention of leaving his wife for a spoiled little girl. For a time, I really believed that our friendship was heading towards destruction.
But then it happened. It was a Friday night, and just like always, he was packing his bag, preparing for his weekend of straightness, when I walked into his bedroom and sat on the bed. After a few moments of me watching him pack, he asked if I needed something.
?I love you, you know.?
That was the first time I ever said those words to someone other than my fucked up family.
He closed his bag, his back towards me and replied, ?I know.?
I got up and walked out of the apartment. A few hours later, after many drinks and a sloppy blowjob from some random guy from the club, I return home to an empty apartment. It was the first time I ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive.
No matter how much I drank or how many blowjobs I got, I couldn?t fill the emptiness that consumed me.
Sometimes, even when completely hammered, our minds can suddenly have a single lucid thought that shifts everything into place and the world becomes shockingly clear.
Sitting on my empty bed, clutching his pillow to my chest, and through the self-loathing and Vodka haze, I knew that I could no longer go on fooling myself. Jason and I would never be truly together and I would be better off moving on.
I didn?t even care that one of us would have to move out of our apartment, all I knew is I couldn?t do it anymore.
Sometime around 3 am I passed out, fully intending to end it with Jason the moment he returned Sunday night. Around 3:45, I was rudely awoken by someone shaking me. And much to my surprise, it was Jason. He crawled into bed and pulled me close. He kissed my cheek and when I tried to talk, he put his finger against my lips and told me to go back to sleep.
And in the morning, we woke wrapped in each others arms. And in that moment, I was truly happy.
Sadly that moment didn?t last long because Jason started whispering in my ear as he held me tight. He told me that he loved me but wasn?t in love with me. He also apologized for leading me on. He said he knew that I wanted more from him but since I never came out and said it, he chose to ignore it because being with me filled a void and he hated to be lonely. He had decided for the sake of our friendship, that we had to stop sleeping together.
And it worked, for a time, but whatever it was between us, was to powerful and a few months later we started the whole thing again and it lasted another two years before I moved to a different city in a different state on the opposite end of the country to get away from him.
I guess Jason knew me better than any other human on this planet and I think that night in my bed was the only time he was completely honest with me and to this fucking day, I still believe it was a load of shit.
Sad, I know, but how I wish for those confusing times again. Anything would be better than the last three weeks.