I know there is a moral to this whole experience, but trying to figure out exactly what is becoming more complicated than I might have thought.

When my friend from Minnesota (whom I’ve previously associated as Mr. J and shall now refer to as Cesium) threw out the idea of meeting for a music festival I was all in, being 2010 and thus the year of ‘trying new things’.  Industrial-electro music festivals are therefore a new thing to me, and something I should try.  I agreed to absolutely go with him with the required glee and excitement.

However when the topic of accomodations came up, I know on some level that a red flag should have come up.  Yes, I knew he had a crush on me.  Yes, I shouldn’t have been naïve and believed people can still be platonic despite one having interest in the other.  But I guess I was wrong on this front.

Upon my arrival at the hotel the first thing I noticed was that the room had only one bed, and no couch.  Those who know me well are aware of the fact that I can’t share a bed with anyone — and I mean anyone.  The last time I tried was when I was drunk on NYE and crashed in the same bed as C, in which case I didn’t sleep a wink.  And I’ve tried on other prior occasions and it just doesn’t work.   Post break-up with D I seem incapable of occupying the same sleeping space as another person if I want a restful sleep.  When Cesium first brought up the whole idea of sharing a room I was under the impression there were two beds.  I brought it up at dinner that night.  I explained that I can’t share a bed, and it’s nothing against him but a ‘me thing’, one of my little neurotic quirks.  He seemed annoyed, and kept coming back to the point that it’d be nice to ‘sleep next to a warm body’, like he was trying to guilt me into agreeing it.  For a minute I almost did back down, but knowing what would happen I just ended up sticking to my guns.

So I slept on the floor, and horribly.   Did I mention that Cesium snores extremely loud?

The next day I woke up and indicated I’d see if the hotel could give us a cot, otherwise I’d just get my own room.  He mumbled (he’s a frequent mumbler) something, then refused to repeat it, but from what I caught it had something to do with sharing the bed again.  At the front desk they were perfectly willing to supply a cot for an additional $25 for the weekend.  Perfect!

When we got back to the room later that day and he saw the cot, he gave it this look and then walked into the washroom and shut the door, not saying a word.

The entire weekend was a pretty steep downhill from that point on.  He just seemed miserable all the time, and had this look of a wounded puppy.  To an extent I could understand his reaction, had I given the implication that I’d sleep with him.  But I never did anything of the such, and last I remembered accepting an invite to share sleeping quarters (especially when you offer to pay for part of the price of the room, which I did) didn’t equate to becoming fuck partners.  Maybe the rules have changed, or maybe I just have really lousy taste in men.

By Saturday night I had my fill of him, but my flight wasn’t until Monday morning so I was essentially trapped.  Sunday was my birthday, and the entire day was spent with him being mopey and sad-looking, mumbling remarks that I couldn’t hear, and maximizing his pushing of every pet peeve in my library.  At dinner that night he started eating my onion rings without asking to have any, which is a major pet peeve with him.  I must have given an ice look because he said ‘this is the last one I’ll take’.  I explained to him that it bothers me when people just take my food, and he’s welcome to have some if he’d just ask before taking.  He refused to ask, and instead just stared at everything but me.  It was the most silent meal of my life, and I’ve had some pretty tense ones.

After arriving at the venue I just found myself out of energy — I had done three straight days of music festival and I just felt drained.  I told him I was going to go back to the hotel but to stay, and I’d see him in a few hours when he got back.   In a way I was looking forward to finishing off my birthday with some time alone, eating some fast food, drinking beer, and watching tv.  But about 30 minutes later he calls my cell asking for me to let him in downstairs.

What the fuck?

And so he returned, almost three hours early, and with him brought this atmosphere of suffocating awkwardness.

So here’s the thing with Cesium:  the first time we met and spent time together we had great chemistry and got along perfectly.  But then he left, and what I thought might have been a possible foundation for a future relationship seemed to be a fling to him.  A few weeks later he told me in casual conversation about fooling around with another girl, and it kind of hurt me.  I remember getting emotional and going off about not understanding where we stood, he said something between us wasn’t rational with the distance.  Which was completely true and logical.  A few months later I entered a relationship and he seemed annoyed with me, but we tried to remain friends.

However the next time we saw one another he seemed to expect things to resume in our fuckbuddy status, but when I was with him I couldn’t muster up any interest or chemistry.  It just felt dead to me.  I made it pretty clear that I wasn’t interested any more, and he seemed accepting of this.  So when the suggestion of the trip came up I had no reason to suspect alterior motives.

Silly rabbit.

The unfortunate circumstance of all of this is that I’m likely going to not be able to be friends with him any more.  We could talk online, sure.  But physically hanging out?  I don’t think it’d be a good idea since he still seems interested.  I spent so much time wondering why this guy keeps gunning for me; why does he keep trying to get in my pants.  And last night it hit me — I was his first.  I took the boy’s virginity years ago, and in that I’ve sealed my fate as being that one.  And I understand how it works; you’re always going to be attached to the person that took your virginity.  Hell even though I haven’t seen my first in almost ten years, I still feel a form of bond with him.  I wouldn’t try to sleep with him now, but I’m pretty sure there’d still be some residual feelings involved.

I guess it explains why Cesium clings.  It’s not healthy, but at least it’s justifiable now.  Everything needs a reason in my mind, let’s just call that neurosis #14572.


One Response to “Red-Green-Blue”

  1. 1 h

    Don’t you mean any normal guys, ever?

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