Knowing When to Fold ‘Em…and other shit that I should’ve done a long time ago! (Part 2)
So…where did I leave off? Oh yeah. College, second semester freshman year.
So yeah, I asked did he want to be my boyfriend and he, without thought, or hinder, said “Yes.”
See, now here’s the thing with that yes. While I was pretty happy to have my best-friend as a boyfriend, this same best-friend, had another male friend, whom I had…let’s say, dated. We didn’t really date, and seeing as how someday a lot of people will read this and no doubt judge me—if I were to be completely honest—I’m calling it dating, and if you chose to draw your own sassy conclusions from the words in between lines, then that’s your stuff. I’m going with dating. Yeah, so we dated. Did I say date a lot? Yes? Then good, you get it, we dated. Dated! Anyway, with him having a friend that I dated, it put him and the friend in sort of a bind, but my best-friend, being the good friend that he was, decided that after saying yes to me, he would check with “dated-guy” just to be sure. According to my history, “dated-guy “said, “He did not have a problem with our—best-friend and I—new relationship.
Right after we made our relationship official, we ended school for summer break. Both of us coming back to Virginia, to do what most college students do during that time. We hustled. I worked at a day care, he worked at some distribution company, which had him working strange hours into the wee hours of the morning. OR. SO. I. THOUGHT.
Our summer went off without a hitch, we had a few dates, had a little fun, and made a little money to take back to college with us. I went on vacation with my family, and he went on vacation with his. OR. SO. I. THOUGHT.
Oh…wait, I forgot an important fact, before the THOUGHTS or wee-hour schedules, or the summer vacation, we took a step in our relationship not more than a month after making it official, and made it waaaayyy official. OR. SO. I. THOUGHT.
That time spent officalizing—Shut up that’s a word—our relationship, was probably the most special, most meaningful, most passionate time that I’d endured. You know, at the ripe age of nineteen, and honestly, ‘til this very day, I wouldn’t have changed a moment of it. Wait. OR. SO. I. THINK.
Nearing the ending of our summer, I couldn’t fathom the idea of leaving him to go to separate schools that were two hours away from each other, but then, there was a silver lining. I was finally allowed to take my car to school. WOOHOO! I would just drive to see him on the weekends that I didn’t have a football game (see previous posts, I was in marching band), this would be just fine. OR. SO. I. THOUGHT.
Those of you who know anything about being in the marching band at a Historically Black College and University knows that marching band is a way of life, a culture, it’s everything, and so…there’s no free time. Plus, I didn’t have gas money and I damned for sure wasn’t going to ask my parents for money for gas to go see a boy. What? So I could hear, “We didn’t send you to college so that you could go see men, we sent you to get an education that had better pay off.” Listen, my mother, is very articulate, but that sentence isn’t even remotely close to anything that she would’ve said. Had I asked for gas money to travel from the Albemarle Sound of Carolina to Raleigh, there would’ve been expletives that made you cringe, so I didn’t even bother to ask. I snuck. I snuck and I didn’t get caught. OR. SO. I. THOUGHT.
Yeah, so I did go to see him, drove my red 96 model two door Toyota Corolla (it was 2001 at this point) to Raleigh, under the guise that I was going home with a friend for the weekend. That was the truth and a lie. I did go home with a friend, I just didn’t stay there with her. I stayed in a hotel room with my boyfriend.
ASIDE: Listen, mom, when you read this, I just want to say, I’m sorry. I never meant to deceive you, but see, here’s the thing, I was dealing with crazed teenage hormones, and all kind of stuff that made me feel kind of funny inside. So yeah, the excuse/reason, legit. I love you.
So that weekend, we spent it held up in a Comfort Inn in Raleigh, experiencing the epitome of being in an adult relationship. OR. SO. I. THOUGHT.
When making the plans to go there, Dee (Yeah, that’s what we’re still calling him right?) said that he had a hookup from a boy who could get us the room for cheap. No problem, right?
Wrong. Wrong on so many different levels. Anyway, so, I had to pay for the room (I think that’s how it happened. Listen, as this story goes on, this part won’t even matter and “Dee” if you paid for it, my bad, but seriously, you, you can tell me to change this around? Get outta here). Anyway from there, we went on to have a lovely lunch at Burger King, dinner at some place cheap or another, and then back to the adult version of our relationship. OR. SO. I. THOUGHT.
Anyway, when our weekend was done, I drove to my friend’s house, picked her up, and we headed back to the Albemarle sound. We had been back for about three weeks, when I realized…Oh No, I’m a girl, I’m supposed to have a period. Hmmm…whatever could be the problem? Oh no, I’m a girl, I’m supposed to have a period. Damn, I know the problem. And according to Clear Blue Easy, I was destined to have eighteen more years worth of problems.
It was not to be.
I vacillated between a feeling of loss and a feeling of relief to a feeling of anger. It was the most hurtful and confusing time of my entire nineteen years on earth that far. Those of you that are close to me, know that I’ve been plenty confused and hurt before, but came out of that lake of shit, smelling like a rose. This time…I just stunk. The day that I called to tell him about what happened, was the day that he didn’t pickup. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t been picking up his dorm room phone regularly since the previous week. Which made me wonder. But then, he was at school on a sports scholarship, which required strict regimes and demands, so I let that go. OR. SO. I. THOUGHT.
After him not picking up for a week, my best-friend and I went into the computer lab at our school, because using the clunky COMPAQ in my room drove me nuts, because seriously, it was just too slow (Internet wise). Anyway, we went into the computer lab with the sole purpose of emailing him, but then, something clicked and I remembered that I had his password to his email—he gave it to me willingly, you know we were best-friends nothing to hide—so she and I both decided to check his email. Wait! Don’t judge me. We checked it just to see if he was okay and such. You don’t believe me? Whatever, that’s your stuff. And what I’m about to type is my stuff, and it still makes me nauseous until this very day. I mean stupid sick! We logged on to his email, and my best-friend (girl bf from college) said, “You sure you want to do this?” with the skepticism of a real best-friend, but a nosey bastard at the same time.
I said, “No” and then I opened it.
The first email was from, his ex-girlfriend. OR. SO. I. THOUGHT.
So the day that I called him to let him know that we had created a child together, however, my body was not equipped to carry it at the moment, and so, subsequently, we had lost a child together, I had the wonderful knowledge of knowing that; all those long hours that he worked at the distribution center, yeah, he was with her. The family vacay’s that he went on, yeah, he was with her. The day before we made our relationship waaaaayyy official, he had called her to talk to her. Why he hadn’t been picking up my phone calls for about a week or so, yeah, he was talking to her. So, as you can see, my THOUGHTS were clearly FUCKED UP. Silly me…and yet that’s only the beginning of my stinking think.
You’ll never believe the conversation that happens next. Until this very day, I still can’t believe it…but then…maybe I can…OR. SO. I. THINK!
Vive Sine Paenitentia
Alas, I do. Which is good and horrible.
Res Ipsa Loquitur
Also for the shit that I should’ve done a long time ago, well…I think you get it by now!
Posted on June 19, 2013, in Food For Thought, Happiness, Heavy Shit, Honesty, Life, Live With No Regrets, Love, Motivation, Reasons, Relationships, Sex and tagged Catch Me If You Can, Circus, Endocrine Disorders, Friendship, HIgh School, Honesty, Humor, Joy, Life, Marching band, PCOS. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.