It didn't happen graduallylike it probably does for most people.It happened from one day tothe next.One ordinary Monday morning during calculus fewer thanfour months ago, to today.From your average eighteen year old kidwith family issues, whose biggest concern was looking out for hisdepressed kid sister, and greatest interests were sports andfucking girls I couldn't care less about, tome.I bet there would be quite a fewgirls out there who would love the gratification of knowing I got abitter taste of my own personal brand of sex with a side ofI don't give a fuck.
Even though I've alwaystaken care to make sure there were no misconceptions about myhookups, there have been a few girls who didn't exactly take me atmy word.Who thought maybe I'd change my mind after the fact.Inever did.And until recently my day-to-day concerns generallyentailed some jealous ex-hookup, or managing the expectations of mynext random hookup.
Lately, every day I sitthrough classes and social bullshit, I feel like I'm trapped in thepast.Like time is moving more slowly than I am.
But this morning I feelmore like myself.Well, at least more like the person I'mtransitioning into.The man I am becoming.
I dress in gray slacks anda black, light, spring sweater.I'm nervous.Reallynervous.
I've only spoken to myfather once since that epic failure of a phone conversation acouple of weeks ago, and only to confirm that we were still on tomeet today at ten.And with all of my pent up frustration with mycurrent situation with Rory, I'm already on edge, and if I have tolisten to him question her integrity again, accuse her offabricating the horrors of her past… well, I'm not sure any of Dr.Schall's methods for controlling my anger is going tohelp.
I haven't spoken to Roryeither.Not since she used me for sex as if we were nothing morethan some kind of casual friends with benefits.
Up until that moment Ihadn't even realized that I was still holding on to some hope forus.I had convinced myself that I was simply being a good,supportive friend, looking out for her.But that wasbullshit.
I don't know why I thoughtthat our hooking up meant something.That it meanteverything.Maybebecause there's never anything casual about Rory and me when we'retogether like that.It's fuckingepic.Every time.I know Rory'snever partaken in the art of a booty call, or afriends with benefitsrelationship,so maybe she just doesn't know, but I'd think it would kind of beself-explanatory.That it's just about getting off.It's not aboutthe other person, it usually doesn't even matter who they are.Onlya physical attraction and a mutual agreement isnecessary.
It's definitely not aboutneeding the other person so badly that I wanted to crawl out of myown skin and inside hers.It's not about craving her like anaddict, to indulge in my favorite sight, sounds, taste, and touch.To watch and feel an act I've known with fair consistency since Iwas thirteen years old as if it was a new experience, invented byRory, never before even heard of.A casual hookup does not includewhispered confessions of my desperation for her, and anall-consuming need far greater than the usual desire tofuck.
With Rory, it's like acompletely different act altogether.
It's abouther.Wanting herand only her.Needing to be deep inside of her.It's aboutpossessing and claiming her.There's no anxiety when she's likethat.There's only beauty and confidence, if just the slightest bitof self doubt at times.But it's unwarranted, and I know exactlyhow to vanquish it, and I do.
Nothing feels as good asher.Nothing could ever compete.
I sigh, still completelyunable to comprehend how Rory can go fromthat, tofriend, in a matter of minutes.Partof me wants to chalk it up to her inexperience.
Becausethat motherfucking bastardmay have stolen her virginity, but she had never really hadsex.Not willingly—not becauseshewanted to.She admitted as much the first nightshe kissed me.
I shove my fingers throughmy hair and pull a little, letting it sting my scalp a bit before Ilet go.It releases only the slightest bit of the overwhelmingtension that I hold fucking everywhere these days, physically andemotionally exhausted by the goddamn painful weight in mychest.
I still can't believe thatRory thought I'd ever experienced something like that before.Mystomach knots up.Maybe she thinks all consensual sex is like that.And maybe it it would be for her.Maybe it's notusat all, it's justRory.Maybe her kiss with her friend Cam was just as incredible asit is when she and I kiss.Maybe…fuck.
This is ridiculous.I needto fucking get my head straight.Because it doesn't even matterwhether she does or doesn't get just how once-in-a-lifetime thisthing with us actually is, and I don't just mean physically either.She gave it a shot, and decided she couldn't handle it.And if shecan spend the afternoon with me in bed like that and then justbrush it off like it was a casual thing, then clearly she eitherdoesn't love me anymore, or never really did at all.
I wince at the cold, hardtruth of it all.But I know that I need to accept the situation andmove on.Because this is my fucking fault.I never should have madeany assumptions about that afternoon, and I probably shouldn't haveeven kissed her before I understood what her intentions were… orweren't.
And now I know that if wecan ever really go back to being friends, I need to accept it andmove the fuck on.But that's hard to do when I see her all thetime, when I'm constantly jumping on every chance to spend timewith her.So after that day, I decided to do the exactopposite.
I realized I need spacefrom her.Because it's clear that I'm not over her.Overus.So right now I canbe a better friend to her by giving her that space, and taking myown, than I can by hanging around her all the time.A good friendwouldn't be climbing into bed with her.A good friend wouldn't havekissed her, and certainly wouldn't engage in the activities thatfollowed.
I shake my head inself-admonishment.I need to get it the fuck together.Because Ijust told myself I'm not a fucking adolescent anymore, and a manwouldn't be standing around, losing it over girl like a fuckingpussy.And I have very adult issues to deal with today.Becausedistance or not, I'm still determined to protect her, and I stillneed my fucking father's help to do that.
My mom is already outgoing about her day and Bits is with her private tutor, mutteringsomething in flawless French, and I don't understand a lick of whatshe says to me when I pat her on her head in goodbye.I tell hershe's annoying and that I'll see her later in subpar Spanish, ofwhich I only took two mediocre years before testing out.
I park at the Long IslandRail Road since we'll all be meeting at a bar tonight and Tuck isdesignated driver.I have decided tonight it is time to shed mysorry, mopey attitude and try to have a good time.Even if I haveto fake it.I know Rory will be there with the girls, but she'sbeen keeping her distance anyway, and I'm praying that with thehelp of some liquid assistance, I can try and forget about mytroubles for a night.Because I can't move on if I don't moveforward.
I pull out my phone andtry to distract myself through the forty-minute train ride intoPenn Station.The car is full of professional men and women insuits, all headed to their daily monotony.I try so hard to picturemyself like them—as a grown up, perhaps with a family, trekking tomy job hopefully in hospitality—but I can't see it.I fast-forwardmy imaginary day, past the part with the unfathomable family andhouse in the suburbs, and that's when I can see myself with someclarity.Getting an entry-level job in hotel management, working myway up the ladder just like Uncle Kelly, and maybe even owning myown boutique hotel one day.
I smile to myself.It'sall paying off for him now.He's leaving the W Hotel Group now thathe's secured investors to buy a sick spot in the MeatpackingDistrict.A few million in renovations later and my Uncle Kellywill be an hotelier.And as soon as I graduate, I'll be his firstintern.
It's the thing I'm lookingforward to most of all.The one thing that lifts the perpetualweight in my chest, if only marginally.I realize it's nepotism,but I don't give half a shit.Because I'll get experience no one myage would ever have access to otherwise.I'll get to see the placebuilt from the ground up.From architect drawings and design toexecution and then management.But as vividly as I can see it, asmuch as I welcome the eager anticipation of it, it's hard for me toentertain the idea that it could be enough to make mehappy.
Six months ago, living thesingle life of a college student interning at a world-class hotelwas the dream.Now it seems like there will always be a missingpiece—a fucking crucial, Rory-shaped piece—no matter what I doacademically or professionally.
Get over it.
Yeah, sure.Willdo, I lie to myself.
