#11 WHEN I SLEPT WITH MY CRUSH’S BEST FRIEND – AND THEN HE WROTE A POEM SAYING IT MEANT NOTHING
#11 WHEN I SLEPT WITH MY CRUSH’S BEST FRIEND – AND THEN HE WROTE A POEM SAYING IT MEANT NOTHING
The person I adored but didn’t pursue, the sting of rejection, the second person I slept with
In undergrad, my very first job (I didn’t get until I was age 20) was a call centre job answering customer service calls for DirecTV, which was a satellite TV company (kind of like Sky for the Brits). Boy was that job mind-numbingly boring (but I did have a sweet, hot boss who years later took me on a date but I had diarrhoea and kept disappearing to the bathroom in the cinema so he got the impression I wasn’t into him) and sometimes uncomfortable like that time that guy called to order pay per view (i.e. porn) and kept telling me to stay on the phone and that I had a lovely voice, except we couldn’t hang up and I kept having to ask if I’d answered all his questions whilst he wanked over the line. Fun! Minimum wage phone sex – not what I signed up for.
That job, however, is where I met Kristy (of Kristy and Cole, now both PhDs and amazing humans) and back in uni they clearly thought I was a “hot mess” and thus acted like my “uni parents” – thanks, you two – you saved me far too many times).
I can describe my first impression of Kristy in two words: loud and bubbly.
We were both English majors in the department and she told me that she was going to work on campus at the Student Success Centre (SSC), which was a tutoring centre where students could come to get help with papers or homework or learn concepts. She said I should apply. You had to earn top marks in your classes, have two recommendations from professors, interview with the programme director (of course), and earn an accredited certification once hired.
I got the job!
I was excited to land this job as it didn’t feel like a job. Plus, it was full to the brim of the coolest friends from across campus in different majors and when we weren’t working we spent far too much time (to our lovely but very strict ex-Navy boss lady’s dismay) chatting amongst ourselves.
You know how fast food workers chat behind the counter when you’re waiting for your sandwich and it’s uber annoying? It was like that but for students waiting for us to tutor them and peel ourselves away from conversations.
Also between tutoring people, we could use the computers around the room where I’d spend time (getting paid) to read my Facebook (OMG my statuses from those days, mega cringe, I wanted to put myself out of my misery) or make face swap pictures on a site called Face in the Hole (this was before smartphones could do it easily so I had to download my friends’ best FB photos and put their faces on celebs from some website and then share them to social media).
I’d been told I looked like the Twilight girl, Kristen Stewart (when I was younger), so I put my face onto hers and Audrey Hepburn's.
This job will become relevant later – as all my writing starts with a bit of rambling backstory (sorry).
Landon
In my classes, I knew this one lovely friend – we’ll call him Landon – who was tall with red hair. He is now a published author (and a professor) whom I’m so proud of – and I buy and read all his books. When I met him, he was a graduate student in some of my undergrad crossover classes and he also played guitar. He always made me laugh. He was kind, thoughtful, and oh-so intelligent. I thought he was far too smart for me. That somehow he’d discover that I just wasn’t all that clever.
We’d met in one of my favourite professor’s classes, Dr K. Her classes were some of the most challenging and rewarding I’ve ever taken. (I have a small list of fave professors that include Dr J, Dr K, Dr B, Dr H, and Dr E – with shoutouts to professors whose classes I never took but were cool AF like Dr W and Dr T. They probably aren’t reading this but shoutout anyway!) He’d always make these insightful observations on whatever we were reading and I soon learned that intelligence was a huge turn-on.
He and I would spend hours doing work together (or he would and I’d procrastinate) at his house, eating pizza at midnight, chatting the hours away. I’d sleep in his bed whilst he took the sofa, where he slept most nights anyway. No idea why I slept in his bed when he had a four-bedroomed house. He also took me to my first American football game in my uni years (after attending many, many high school games).
Years later (around 2011) he’d come over to my house to spend the night, visiting from out of town where he now worked as an English professor.
Somehow it devolved into a mini house party whilst he slept in my bed. I’m not sure A) why he went to sleep early or B) why I invited First Kiss (I told you he’d figure into my life narrative again) and that one semi-famous musician over at the same time (but I’ll share this story another time).
I went into my room only to find he’d left through the window. The actual window. He was an enigma in that way. And I was sad he was gone even though I had done the above. If he’d come to spend time with me, then I was doing the exact opposite of that.
Years before he left through the window, I played rough with his feelings but it wasn’t that I didn’t care. Since I’d felt like a trapped bird in the relationship with my high school sweetheart, I never wanted to be caged again, and maybe it was a little that I didn’t know how to sit with the feelings of people who just liked me. No games. No BS. No push and pull. No drama. I adored Landon. I was half in love with him but I just could not go there. I was too fucked up for normal (as my therapist says now that secure people seem boring if you’re used to the excitement of toxicity).
So, I slept with his best friend instead.
DJ
Landon and DJ were friends from high school and they formed a trio: Landon, DJ, and Jimmy (who just earned his PhD not so long ago, congrats!). They were all cool, cute, smart, and all played guitar.
DJ and I worked at the Student Success Centre together (SSC). I was still with HSS, though.
DJ would flirt with me at work. All the girls there found him super engaging and ridiculously clever and philosophical (in that 20-something girls find people who are remotely clever fascinating). He was an older English major and seemed endlessly cool.
HSS was younger than me and I’d been seeing him for three years at this point (which was about two years too long). I was twenty years old and DJ was around twenty-five. He asked me out, to go back to his apartment. I broke things off with HSS so I could pursue this new thing.
We went back to his apartment which was located between the International Boys’ House across the street and ATC’s apartment, but this was before I lived there. I was still living at that apartment in Ray City, Georgia with my mother and baby sis Hannah, who was around four at the time.
He had gotten a bottle of wine and cooked me a steak dinner. I’d never drunk alcohol and wouldn’t drink until after I was twenty-one (after I’d had my twenty-first birthday in England) but I’m sure I had some of it. I think I’ve trama-blocked some of these memories because of sadness.
He spent what felt like weeks pursuing me (before I’d broken it off with HSS). He had charmed me and talked to me and texted me and whatever else. I decided that I’d sleep with him. I’d only ever slept with HSS, so as much as I didn’t want it to be a big deal to me, it was.
Hooking up
I remember driving to his apartment one night – and in the same spirit of First Date – I decided it would seem like I was trying too hard if I prepped myself too much so I showered but didn’t freshly shave my hoo-hah! Again, why? Why would I think that it would seem too pre-meditated to shave myself bald again (thank goodness for full-on laser hair removal now)?
We sat naked on his bed. I was nervous, my heart beating out of my chest. He told me that it was okay and we didn’t have to do anything if I didn’t want to, but I decided to.
I remember being surprised at how small he was. I’d only ever seen HSS’s penis and I hadn’t known it was bigger than most (as I’d learn when I slept with the Married Professor who was proud of his cock that was practically the same size – or a bit smaller – than HSS’s and he’d been hurt I didn’t say, “wow” like everyone else usually did – as usual, more on that later). In hindsight, he was probably “normal” but my point of reference had been skewed.
We had sex. I walked naked through his house to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He didn’t invite me to sleep over so I drove home.
Of course, HSS was awake probably obsessively texting me and when I got home, he drove to meet me. I cried in his arms. In revenge, not long after, he went and fucked a girl I knew he had liked. It was a downward spiral of tit for tat.
Not long after, DJ decided to pursue a younger girl who worked with us and proceeded to act as if I didn’t exist at all. From having what I thought was a friendship that formed to being totally ignored after I’d slept with him hurt.
Then, a post appeared on his FB. That was the time that people did those notes on FB to share their poetry or their “deep thoughts” and he’d written something along the lines of – and I wish I could recall because it was well written as he was an excellent writer – what we did means nothing more than it had before we did it. Oof!
Don’t forget to check out the other ten posts I’ve written, including the one on why I’m writing this newsletter/blog in the first place.