It figures that as soon as I lock myself in to a post I get all sorts of ideas for things I want to write, and have little drive to finish this.
Coincidently, one of my roommates is in the process of breaking up with his girlfriend of the past few years, so the mood at home has been unusually somber, I don’t like it. I want happy and funny, but, as you may have surmised by the title, my story this evening hasn’t got much in the way of a happy ending, so I’m going to attempt to punch it up a bit, you know, keep it light hearted. If it helps, you may picture me wearing a funny hat.
It's impossible to be somber in a sombrero
So after summer was over, K and I’s relationship had a bit of distance to it. As it worked out I drove two hours south every weekend to spend four to six hours with her and then drive back with a serious case of blue balls.
You see, She was handsy. After a week or two of making out, most often initiated by her, (In fact I think I remember a conversation about how I didn’t have to ask every time I wanted to kiss her, I should go ahead and do it.) K slipped her hands into my pants. This triggered in me an odd mix of desire and guilt. It’s not like I have a ton of hang ups about sex, but having pledged to remain abstinent I felt guilty fooling around like that.
Oddly it was much easier to do things for her. Getting K off didn’t make me feel guilty, but having her touch me did. Which is why I could never tell her how to do it it right. For whatever reason, I felt that explaining to her that my John Thomas does not work the same way as a lawnmower pull cord would be being more sinful, than finger blasting her throughout the extended cut of Return of the King
Close enough
Besides playing red rover with my waistband, Teenage me thought everything was pretty darn peachy. I did thanksgiving at her parents place, met her extended family, which seems like a good step. But after thanksgiving there was some tension. Perhaps I should’ve seen by the look in her eyes, There was something missing, or at least I should’ve known by the tone of her voice, maybe something was wrong. I didn’t though, and since Christmas is my favorite holiday and I love giving presents… I may have over done it.
She has a December birthday, so I got her some goldfish like the ones I had with bubble eyes, cause they always made her laugh. A few weeks later I couldn’t help but notice that K was pulling back, but we had plans to go to the PNW ballet’s Nutcracker. So I took her out on an expensive and painfully awkward date, where she was distant and quiet the entire evening. I think she would’ve broken up with me that night but I gave her her Christmas present at dinner. A ring.
Not an engagement ring, just a little token, it was a Claddagh ring actually. Then we went to the Ballet, I drove her home, kissed her once more.
One rainy evening a few days before Christmas, I got a text message. “I don’t want to date anymore.”
Ouch.
Needless to say Christmas that year was less than fun for me. The next few months went by like a montage set to everybody hurts. I probably would’ve gotten over it sooner if K didn’t have a tendency to drunk dial me. I was clear she wasn’t dealing with the break up particularly well, I spoke to her mother once several months after we had broken up, and I was picking up a few of my things. (including the Christmas present I had never gotten.) K hadn’t been doing well and knowing that hurt as much as the breakup itself.
I'm dead serious.
So I moped about for about a year, sometimes just depressed that I wasn’t “over her.” Eventually things did get better. But on occasion I would get a call or message from her, and it would throw me right back into a funk.
Let’s skip forward a few years. I’m cool, all is well, the year prior I had returned to work another summer at the same camp, this year however I had just started working at a coffee stand. It’s my first week after training, I get to work early and pour myself an ice water and stand out of the way until my shift starts. A customer pulls up and I do a actual double take “Hey that looks like K-That is K!” I don’t know why, but since she hadn’t seen me, I tried to hide. I didn’t make a run for the back of the stand, but instead leaned way back so I couldn’t see her.
That weekend I met my buddy who was working at the same camp that summer and told him about my close call. He waited ’til I finished my story before telling me, “Oh yeah, she totally saw you, and she’s told everybody.” Great. That night we went out to dinner, with some other staffers and while waiting for our table, outside the restaruant, I see K’s sister. She makes a point of greeting me, Then I see K and sheepishly acknowledge her. All’s well, the world isn’t coming to an end, until, My buddy just now seeing K shouts,”Peroxide, it’s K, Quick Hide!” and pushed me into a rhododendron.
K has sought reconciliation, and I’ve tried. I forgave her a long time ago, but I’ve never regained trust for her. (There are of course, details of our relationship that I’ve left out here which) While I wish her nothing but the best, We probably will never be friends, certainly nothing more than that.
So that’s my big bad break-up, more or less.