To the Point

(Originally written on April 10, 2009)

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Yuengling thinks that everything between Gaston and me is done after the whole April Fool’s thing.  He’s torn between thinking it’s awful and funny.  I wish he had spoken up on the former of those two feelings when the idea was originally brought up at Los Compadres because it is one of my biggest regrets.  Actually, my only regret.  I don’t believe in wasting time worrying about what has been done because there’s nothing that you can do to change it.

Downtown at Polly’s Tuesday after the movie, Gaston called me Slutty McSlutterson and asked me if I had ever met Dirty Steve for like the 100^th time (realistically somewhere around the 7^th).  Two insults rolled up into one – how efficient of him!  I don’t feel the need to explain why I was pissed about him calling me Slutty McSlutterson (he wasn’t even drinking –  ANYTHING).  However, Gaston took me home with him to south Georgia back in January.  During this visit, I freakin’ met Dirty Steve and we hung out with him all night.  He asks me this question on a regular basis (often sober) and by now I just feel that he should remember.

I went to see my friends’ band play on Wednesday with Yuengling (the same band I saw when I ran into X).  They played really well and I really enjoy their music and lyrics.  The one that I found most relevant to my life:  “I can’t help but worry about it.”  I just can’t.  About anything, really.

Yesterday afternoon/last night Gaston, Rowdy, Leto (Belle’s roommate) and I sat outside on Gaston’s porch drinking Mint Julips and watching the Master’s tournament.  We ended up grilling out and later on the beer pong table came out.  By this point, Napoleon had returned from work.   Gaston and Rowdy were taking on Whitie (Gaston’s albino friend) and me.  Game 1:  Whitie and I win.  Game 2:  it was time to break out the distractions – Gaston can never help but be fully affected by them.  My distractions, although not modest I suppose, consist of me shaking my butt or putting my thumb on the top of my jeans and pulling them down so you can see that hipbone line.

Out of nowhere, Napoleon announces (he’s still off the sauce for Lent), “I’ve been meaning to tell you – you look like a prostitute.”  Call me sensitive, but this really pissed me off – enough so that it was to the point where I sank Whitie’s and my remaining two cups on my next two throws with ease.  Immediately afterward, I retired to my apartment for the rest of the evening (where, not too much later, my nose started bleeding because my anger caused a sever spike in my blood pressure).  You can try to say that he was just kidding, but as many asshole lines as he has given me, I know better than to believe that.  The mere fact that he shouted it in front of everyone was embarrassing, degrading, and flat-out inappropriate.

Scarlet raised the questions, “How can you call him a friend?  Why do you still hang out with him?”  Those are two damn good questions.  I think it’s because he was the one that helped me after I had been raped.  He called the police for me since I could hardly be understood through my tears, and he was with me while the cops interviewed me and searched my apartment in the wee hours of the night.  That is a debt that I feel I can never repay and that I will always be eternally grateful for.  I mean, we had just been hanging out for about a month by that time and we barely even knew each other.  BUT that is also why this particular comment struck so deep – it made me feel as though he probably thinks I was just asking to be raped.  I’m sure that’s not the case, but that’s how I feel.

I FINALLY had sex today!  Woo-hoo!  And the duration was fantastic and…ahh.  It was just phenomenal.  However, I’m not quite sure what to think because Gaston still won’t let me kiss him – not even during sex.  I just don’t know what to think about that.  I understand that I ruined his trust in me, but it just seems so emotionless (which he can be a lot of the time, but this is different).  I don’t think I could do that again because the only other time (other than the rape) that I’ve had sex without kissing was post-breakup sex with X – which isn’t a very positive association.

We then spent, like, three more hours together watching the Master’s while he wanted to (and I let it happen) cuddle with me – holding my hands, kissing my shoulders, and such.  I asked him if he would ever let me kiss him again and he replied, “Probably.”  With Gaston it is more than just sex, but I just don’t think that our “not-relationship” can continue if the kissing aspect remains out.

“I can’t help but worry about it.”

All Work and No Play…

(Originally written on April 6, 2009)

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Last night, Gaston got back from Miami.  I had no idea when to expect him to be back, I was at Beast’s and Martyr’s house (who are officially working on getting back together, by the way) for Ursula’s 21^st birthday.  While there, Ursula, Chip, and Dale revealed that they had all seen Fast and Furious over the course of the weekend and that it was awesome.  Having still not heard anything from Gaston since Wednesday, I decided that it was time to stop anticipating and just initiate contact myself (just like I usually do).  So, I texted him “Will you go with me to see Fast and Furious on Tuesday?  I’ll pay because I’ve got tons of movie gift certificates” (the certificates were part of Martyr’s Valentine’s Day gift to me – along with a tub of gumballs, a card, and a bottle of wine).  I actually haven’t even seen a movie in theaters since Role Models, which was mine and Gaston’s first date (which we went to with a few friends and he referred to as a “pseudo-date”).

Anyways, he ended up immediately calling me back saying, “I was just about to call you!  Are you at trivia?”  I told him where I was and why and asked him what his response was to my text.  He didn’t actually read it, so I asked him about Tuesday and he confirmed.  I hope he holds to that…

Before getting off the phone, I told him to call me after trivia (which he was heading to, late) because I wanted to see him and hear about his weekend.  That call ended at 8:30pm.  I got home from Ursula’s 21^st birthday celebration around 11pm.  Having not heard back from him, I texted him saying I was home, to which he replied “headed home”.  After waiting 20 minutes (when it only takes approximately five minutes to get to the apartment from trivia), I told him (via text) that I should instead go to bed since I had a long day ahead of me.

So you aren’t coming down?

Are you even home?

I told you I was.

NO, he told me he was headed home.  Whatever.  Now it was 11:30pm and I decided to just come down because I didn’t feel like getting into it over petty technicalities.  He was seated at their dining table (which he never does – he’s always either on the sofa or in his bed, both of which lead to cuddling opportunities).  I was originally playing up my tiredness in hopes we’d relocate (I sat completely opposite of him across the table – still hesitant as to how upset he remained over the whole pregnancy joke thing).

I asked him how his weekend was.

It was fun.

That’s all he said!  After getting upset that I was going to go to bed instead of come down to see him, that was IT!

I continued for approximately 10 minutes to pretend to pass out in my chair.  I then said, “Well can I go up to bed if all you have to say about the past four days is that they were ‘fun’”…Another five minutes go by, still no response.  Finally, he simply says, “I don’t care.  Go to bed.”

What an aggravating son-of-a-bitch!  I proceeded to go to bed.

•     •     •     •     •

As early of a start as I had this morning, I hopelessly hope my evening arrives just as soon.  After my first class, I had a pointless, unproductive, unnecessarily long group project meeting.  Then, I went to Polly’s to study for a pointless test that I have tomorrow for a pointless class.

While there, however, I did get a recruitment call from a company that I hadn’t even applied to.  I’m not too interested in relocating to where their headquarters are, but at this point, I’ll take whatever I can get.

Anyways, from there I went to another pointless class (which I would have skipped, but Scarlet told me that I’ve been doing that too much lately).  Then, I had another painfully god-awful seminar.  I WAS originally planning on skipping out on the social hour following the presentation, BUT my program mentor came, so I was essentially obligated to go.

Then Beast called and lectured at me for half-an-hour about finding a job.  He made me immediately draft a particular cover letter and e-mail it to him with my resume.

Ugh!

Now I have to pick back up my studying for that test tomorrow.  When does all this fun stop?

Epic Awesomeness: I’m Going to Hell

(Originally written on April 1, 2009)

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For the past couple of days, I’ve been putting on quite a little act for Gaston in lieu of the big plan.  I’ve been somewhat mopey, but insistent that “Nothing’s wrong, really.”  Napoleon said I’ve been pulling it off quite nicely and he thinks it’s working.

I called my pregnant classmate on Sunday to ask if she’d be willing to participate by taking a pregnancy test for me.  When I called her, I opened by trying to ease her into the idea of what I was about to ask.  After my whole run-down and me asking her for the favor, she responded saying, “I almost immediately thought that’s what you were going to ask me.  We did that for a girl I worked with one year.”  And she was in!  It made me feel less evil knowing that it had been done before by someone else (especially someone I know).  Right before we got off the phone, she asked me a priceless question:

You do realize that you’re asking me to pee on something and then give it to you, right?  …Okay, just wanted to make sure.

While at Polly’s on Monday, I revealed to Kip, one of the managers (who I briefly dated in high school), what I was planning on doing to Gaston for April Fool’s Day.  He had another great suggestion for making the plan run more smoothly:  pull it off the day before April Fool’s day – that way, he won’t be suspicious.  Genius.

So, yesterday I had Napoleon text me when he and Gaston got back from playing tennis, using the excuse that I was refilling their ice (the ice machine in their freezer broke a few weeks ago).  After refilling their ice, I walk in and tell Gaston that I need to talk to him about “what’s been bothering me lately”…privately.  So we go into his room, I lock the door behind us, and he proceeds to ask me, “What?  What is it?”

I carried on laying on his bed, my back facing him, crying.  Yes, I cried; horrible, I know.  He kept pleading, “What is it?”  And I slipped the pregnancy test over my shoulder.  What a dummy.  “What does that mean?”  I had to tell him that I was pregnant.

Are you sure?

Yes, that’s the third test I’ve taken.

How long have you known?

Since Sunday.

Why didn’t you tell me Sunday?

I wanted to be sure.

At first, he wouldn’t touch me and was playing on his laptop as a distraction while I laid there crying.  This “absorption phase” lasted approximately 10 minutes.  Then, whenever I turned around with my back to him, he would insist, “Look at me.”

p.s.  Gaston and I have already had the accidental pre-marital pregnancy talk and I made it very clear to him that I would get an abortion if that ever happened to me.  Having a baby would ruin my life right now.

He finally said that he would support me in whatever decision I made, insisting that it was solely my decision and he had no say in the matter.  We discussed the pros and cons of the different options and I kept saying, “I know I always said I knew what I would do, but I just don’t know if I can kill my own child.  And it’s not just my child, it’s yours too,” and “This is our decision.”

This type of activity went on for about an hour before I suggested that I go up to my apartment and come back down later when he’s had time to think about it.  Then, he revealed to me that once I left he was going to take a shower and then drive home (which is a good three hours away), even though he had class early the next morning, because he needed to get away from the whole situation and just be alone (his family is out of town), downing a bottle of Jack.

I originally planned on waiting until today to tell him, but I couldn’t let him drive all that ways.

As we laid there staring at each other he asked me, “What do you want me to say?”  A few minutes later, he had his hand resting on my bare stomach (my shirt got pushed up a little from rolling back and forth) and he asked me what I was thinking.

I just don’t know what to say to you.

Like what?

APRIL FOOL’S!

Gaston immediately opens up his phone and replies, “It’s March 31^st, it’s not April Fool’s.”  And then I told him about Kip’s suggestion.

No fuckin’ way.

He stormed out of his room with me on his heels, through the living room where Napoleon was waiting like a child on Christmas morning, and out the door.  “Get away from me, woman!”  To Napoleon:  “I should be just as mad at you for knowing!”

It was classic.  Never before have I ever pulled off such an epic prank.  In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever even played an April Fool’s joke on anyone.

Gaston admitted that the pregnancy test sealed the deal.  Below are a few of his quotes that stand out the most after the revelation (he had a smile on his face the whole time):

I’m so happy and relieved right now, yet so pissed at the same time!

I’m gonna give it to you, that is in the top three April Fool’s jokes I’ve ever seen pulled off, it just really sucks when it happens to you.

I don’t care if Scarlet’s gay, the next time I see him, I’m gonna punch him in the face!  And I know he won’t fight back, so I’m gonna just kick his ass!

I’m awful, I know – at least he sees the humor in it…

Tequila Revelations

(Originally written on March 29,2009)

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Friday, Gaston was supposed to have left to go home to south Georgia by 3pm; however, his Jeep was still sitting in our parking lot at 4:30m, tempting me.  I hadn’t heard from him all day and I was still upset about the whole jealousy comment, waiting to see if he would try to contact me for a change.  I know that those “tests” or “games” or whatever are stupid, but I sometimes wonder if we would ever even talk if I didn’t go out of my way to initiate contact all of the time…

I was battling with myself as to whether or not I should just go down there and get the whole “I accept that this isn’t going to work out” conversation over with.  I really value Samantha’s advice, but I don’t have enough self-control to just let it go.  I mean, he is my neighbor whose apartment I have to walk by every day and we hang out with the same crowd.  To just cut myself off from him would require me to completely change who I hang out with for the remaining two months I have here.

I called Scarlet for additional advice (he was aware of what happened the night before).

Gaston’s car is still here – he was supposed to have left already and I wish he would just go already!

His response was priceless:

Okay…

My nonsensical, emotional neurosis was definitely at hold of the reigns.  I then explained what I was trying to do and asked if he thought I should just go down there and get it out.  Scarlet’s reply was pleasantly surprising,

I think you should talk to him, but not until he gets back in town.  You should wait until you aren’t so upset and have thought clearly about what exactly you want.

The reason this was so surprising is because Scarlet likes Gaston and readily admits that he’s a nice guy and that he recognizes that I really enjoy the time I spend with him; but, for quite some time now, he has consistently reminded me that it’s not worth the stress that I put myself through.  I was expecting him to reaffirm what Samantha had told me to do.

I am a very impatient person, by the way.  I decided to just go and do it.  I opened up with the whole spiel about how it was just going to take me some time before I could trust him.  Then he said, “That’s what I meant.”  He doesn’t want to “just be the next guy” because I’m not over X.  Here we go again!  I, of course, went on the defensive and insisted that I definitely don’t love X anymore.  I was taken aback by how he explained himself:

You aren’t over X.  Maybe you aren’t in love with him, but you aren’t over what happened.  I don’t want to just be the next guy – like, I don’t want to be in a serious relationship with someone who isn’t over their previous one.  And I understand that it’s going to take time, it took me three-and-a-half years to get over [one of his exes].  I just don’t want to be punished for someone else’s sins.  I’m okay with what we have going on now and I really enjoy spending time with you.  I just can’t be in a serious relationship with you right now.

I was set at both peace and turbulence by this:  peace with what I have with Gaston, turbulence with the realization that I’m not over what happened with X.  Why can’t I just move on?  How do I go about making it happen?  How much longer will it be before I’m over it?

•     •     •     •     •

Later on Friday evening, Yuengling and I went to Polly’s to hang out.  It was rainy and gross outside, and we were both in that “I just want to have a chill, relaxing night” kind of mood.  I love Polly’s and want them to have successful business and everything, but I was really hoping that there wouldn’t be a lot of people there.  Thankfully, there wasn’t when we initially got there.  It picked up later, but it wasn’t packed out like it would normally be on a Friday night.

Anyways, I shared with him the conversation that I had with Gaston earlier in the afternoon.  Yuengling was a little shocked and asked, “Does Gaston actually want a relationship?”  Yuengling then asked me the same question that Samantha and Scarlet always come at me with:  “Is it really worth all the stress and frustration?”  Only, he added, “I mean, you guys are both going to be moving in a couple months,” to the end – which is true, but we’re actually looking for jobs in the same place (not to be with each other, just out of the convenience of being close to family).

For some reason, I really wanted a margarita Friday evening.  I love Mexican food and I am a regular at this restaurant in town that is owned by Teddy, a guy that is Ursula’s age and that we grew up going to school with.  Yuengling had never been there, so we decided that a night at Los Compadres was on the agenda for Saturday.

After drinking for several hours at Polly’s, I decided to call it a night.  I was tipsy, which was okay because Yuengling had driven anyways.  Once we got back to my apartment, we decided to stop in and invite Napoleon to our Mexican dinner.  Upon greeting us, Napoleon asked me if I was in a better mood than the previous evening, which I was, so I replied with a “yes”. He then says, “Yea, you were acting so stupid last night.  It was really immature, especially just because you were jealous.”

Sometimes Napoleon can be such an ass!  This comment was completely unnecessary.  I didn’t feel like getting into it with him, but I was fuming inside.  There have also been other times before when I’ve tried to ask for his advice or just talk to him about Gaston and he’s responded in a similar manner.  When I got into bed, I couldn’t sleep and after 20 minutes of tossing and turning, I decided to just get it out on paper.  Here is the note that my tipsy self wrote:

Napoleon,

You know that I love you as a friend, I truly do.  But I’ve just come to accept that you are not someone that I can talk to about Gaston.  It’s not like I think you will tell him or anything – if I was worried about that, I wouldn’t say anything in the first place – it’s just that it hurts me too much when you go off on how you “don’t care” or “don’t want to hear it.”  So, unless you want to hear me explain myself (which you’ve made very clear that you don’t), I would appreciate it if we just left that topic of conversation out of our friendship – because it’ll never do anything but frustrate either of us.

<3, Elliott

I’ve decided not to give it to him, at least not right now…

•     •     •     •     •

Last night it ended up being Yuengling, Napoleon, Scarlet, and me at Los Compadres.  It was pretty tame for the most part, but then Scarlet had one of his most crafty ideas ever:  tell Gaston that I’m pregnant as an April Fool’s joke.  All four of us roared in laughter and Napoleon was especially insistent upon seeing it through.

There is a girl in Scarlet’s and my degree program that is pregnant (I think she’s due in July).  So, as disgusting as this is, I’m going to buy a pregnancy test for her to pee on so that I can have “proof” for Gaston.

This is definitely going to come back and bite me in the ass, but for right now we’re running with it!