“Some people are only in your life for a season, and some people are in your life for a reason.”
I’ve never fully accepted that quote until now. As I sit in my bed with my fan on high eating chocolate covered coffee beans at 2 in the morning, attempting to hold back tears.
Let me start from the beginning.
His name was Shawn, we had exchanged a few emails online but I wasn’t convinced he was suitable. I tend to have extremely high standards. I told him to meet me at a bar, by me, and that I was going to wear some bright blue shirt i didn’t have. I got a message the next day saying how he had been waiting at the bar for two hours asking why I was a no-show. I gave him some pathetic answer and continued on to my normal routine of sleeping with the guy a few doors down from me.
It wasn’t until a week later when I received one of the worst emails I’ve ever opened, not only did it personally attack me and my leadership skills but she said I was mean. Which, I am not. I texted my regular booty call, but he wasn’t available. Needing to sleep with someone, because when things go bad I go to bed, I messaged Shawn. One call later and he was on his way, slightly buzzed but the promise of sex never stopped any guy from getting to a destination.
We got back to his house, yes I left without saying anything to my roommate in the middle of the night (around this time actually) bad choices all around, and headed straight for the bedroom. He would be the third person I had ever slept with. And let me tell you, without going into too much detail, it was fantastic…fireworks type deal. The worst part was the permanent kiss he left on my neck, luckily it was winter and I’m obsessed with scarves. Before I got out of the car he asked when he would see me again, my response “you’ve got to take me on a date if you want more” he laughed and said “I was willing to do that from the beginning.”
The next day, although zombie like, I was walking on cloud nine. My first text from him was regarding my amazing kissing skills, from there it progressed into text after text of little 160 character flirts, filled to the brim with properly placed emoticons. And three days later, as promised, he took me on our first date.
Which was awful, not only did I discover he was a sore loser (after I kicked his butt at bowling) but he also made me feel bad about getting flowers from him. We got back to his house and he “cooked” dinner, aka heated up frozen chicken and fries. Then heading back to his bedroom, he put on a movie and we did what we do best.
That continued for three solid days, with breaks for class and water in between.
On the third night we talked about everything. I told him about my fear of commitment, and he told me about his fear of being alone. And then laid a doozy on him. I told him about the rape, I didn’t want to but I felt so comfortable with him …I wanted to be honest. He reacted as any guy would, he held me so tightly I could barely breath and said “I will never let anything hurt you.”
…his famous last words.
Three weeks later we hit a rocky patch. It was then that I realized all of the relationship talk had been for show. So I asked him point-blank what he wanted. “Casual sex” was his response, I was crushed. I wasn’t expecting him to say it, and instead of moving on I agreed.
Because movies have taught me that if I continue to have sex with someone eventually he’ll want to be in a relationship with me.
I spent the rest of my semester fighting with Shawn then reconnecting with him between the sheets. But on the weeks I was ignoring Shawn I had my convenient, down the hall no feelings attached, friend.
School ended and after graduation I thought I was off to a fresh start. I told Shawn that it (whatever it was) wasn’t working out for me. And I ended whatever it was that was going on, so I thought.
I got the occasional drunk booty call, or just the occasional drunk call for that matter. And after weeks, I finally gave in.
We didn’t have sex though, we were just together…like I had always wanted.
So it started again. Me hating myself, then realizing what was wrong, then telling him I had to stop…then seeing him and forgetting everything I had said.
Which brings me to now. After not seeing each other for three weeks, and a text fight where I may have said he is horrible in bed (a horrible lie), he called. I can’t say no when he calls. He came over, we ate pizza, listened to music, caught up and watched a movie. Which led where it always leads.
But this time was different. This was the last time. We talked about everything. I put my head on his stomach listening to him, not knowing when I would get to see him again. Then I told him I’d been seeing someone, I was hoping right then and there we would tell me to stop and say that he had been an idiot and wanted to be with me.
But he didn’t, he looked at me and said stop being self-destructive. And that’s where it started, the we can be friends talk. I shot him down and told him I would need space, but we all know what that means.
I was thankful the lights were off because I could feel the tears building in my eyes as I buried my head into his arm for the last time. I walked with him through my kitchen, where just hours ago we had stood at the window, his arms wrapped around me, watching fireworks. Now we were standing at the door like strangers not knowing how to say goodbye. I wrapped my arms around him like normal, trying not to go for a kiss but wanting to taste his lips for a last time. He wouldn’t let me, “Don’t kiss me, it will just make it worse” I could see it in his eyes that he didn’t want to lose me, but knew this was the best option.
I watched him walk out of the door, “Be good, and don’t be a stranger. I’m only a phone call away. “
Then he was gone.