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December 8, 2011
When Erik asked me if we could host a Fourth of July "grilling party" at my place, I vacuumed the carpet, bought some extra paper towels, and agonized over the crust consistency of my triple-berry pie. He didn't mention it wasn't really that kind of party. An hour before the grill-off was set to start, Erik and his friends came over with a 100-foot extension cord, four cases of beer, a package of Nathan's hot dogs, and a large green bucket. "Gin bucket," he said as he moved my pie off the counter and poured a tub of pink lemonade mix into the plastic vat. Four hours later, there were fifty people on my roof singing happy birthday to America, and there was triple-berry pie all over the place.
When Erik buzzed my door later that afternoon, I was bent on proving that I could be just as damn laid back as he was.
I guess it was things like that party that made Erik so attractive. We'd been seeing each other since June. It was the middle of the summer, we were both students with nothing to do, and I was happy to bask in the glow of his likability and laid-back charm. As the sun came up, we fell asleep shoulder-to-shoulder on the fire escape, and I didn't think I could be happier.
July turned to August, and I found out that Erik was a more laid back than I'd thought. He was sleeping with one of his close female friends. "I didn't mean for you to find out," he said. I guess that was about as tender a sentiment as I could've expected. I told him I had nothing to say to him and watched Netflix movies alone in my apartment for three straight days, figuring I'd get over it with some time and Apocalypse Now: Redux. Then I got a call from Erik — I still had his grill, and he wanted to "drop by" to pick it up.
Despite my seventy-two hours of film therapy, I jumped at the opportunity to see Erik again. In some deep corner of my brain, I thought this could be my chance to show him up at his own carefree game. Wasn't I just as capable of being an anything-goes kind of lady? When Erik buzzed my door later that afternoon, I was bent on proving that I could be just as damn laid back as he was.
Two hours after I let Erik back into my apartment, he left with his grill, and I was back in my room with Netflix. Getting back together with an ex is a strange feeling. It sort of felt like nothing had happened at all. "Maybe I'll see you around sometime," he said, as he kissed me goodbye. "Yeah, I guess," I replied. I put on Platoon and didn't bother to turn the lights on as the sun went down.
— Dana
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Commentarium (6 Comments)
Ah man, if the call for these stories had come six months from now I might've had something really special to share.
These are all really good though. Enjoyed each and every one of them. Complex subject and fittingly complex emotions for the stories about it.
A little background: in high school, five of my friends died in drunk driving accidents. Another of my close friends is missing a large chunk of intestines from when a drunken lady friend wrapped them both around a telephone pole in his camaro. My grandfather and my father are both inveterate alcoholics--I wrote my grandfather out of my life after he left me stranded at a debate competition, he was on his way to pick me up when he was pulled over and arrested for driving drunk. To say I'm a little paranoid about drunk driving is putting it lightly: I won't drive after having had a even a single beer, and I'm leery of letting any of my friends drive after drinking, even if they're probably under the legal limit. I drink like a fish though, and I have no problems with boozing or drug use as long as there's no driving involved. Summer into junior year of college, I dated a townie named "Tom". We had met at work three years prior, but both of us had always been in a relationship and then he transferred to a different location. That summer, I ran into him on campus and we started hanging out... and by hanging out, I mean the first night we spent together ended up being in my bed as we talked and made out until dawn. We didn't actually have sex until two months later, but our relationship was crazy intense, at least for me. Things changed gradually and Tom seemed more interested in partying with my friends than in just hanging out, but whatever. One thursday night, Tom was hanging out at my house as the 7 other people I lived with got ready to head out to the bars for the night. I lived with all seniors, so they didn't really have any work to speak of. On the other hand, I had an intense assignment due the next day at 8am. Tom pouted and wanted to go out, I shrugged and told him to go have a good time--I had homework to do anyways. I had one condition : come back after the bar so we fuck. Sexin' is a major source of stress relief for me. Apparently, my friends gave Tom an intense amount of shit all the way to the bar for ditching me to hang out with them... none of them particularly liked him. Tom got angry, came back to the house, got his car, and went home. I finished my project at around 2 am. Bars close at 1 around here, but it's not uncommon for people to head out to house parties after. One by one my room mates straggle home, but no Tom. I'm getting increasingly worried about him. I texted him, no response. It's 4 am. It's 5 am. It's 6 am. There's no answer. Tom was a heavy drinker and prone to starting shit when drunk. I was freaking out. I called the nearest local hospitals, and then I called the drunk tank in my town, and in Tom's. Tom finally gets back to me the next day, says he got mad at my house mates and decided to go home. Even though he parked his car at my house, knew I was expecting him later that night, and was aware of how weird I was about drunk driving, he decided to just disappear. Then he told me I was overreacting and criticized the close friends I lived with for not being nice enough to him. I promptly dumped him. I couldn't go through another night agonizing over whether he was alive or dead, and I refused to stay with a man who didn't care enough about me not to make me worry like that. The next week, he asked if he could come watch walking dead at my house since he didn't have cable at his. We ended up fucking and getting back together. The sex was as good as it had always been, but I didn't trust him anymore and I think he was hurt that I would cut him off so quickly. A week after we got back together, Tom told he was getting off work early and asked if I wanted to see him. I was out with friends, but I said yes nonetheless. Tom worked weekends as a short order cook at a pub near his house, and he was apparently sauced after his shift. He got into a minor accident, it had been raining and after a particularly sharp turn his car spun out into a ditch. Again, I waited all night for him to show up. He didn't, he claimed his phone had died or some such shit and sent me pictures of his car in a ditch. I promptly dumped him again (for good this time). When he picked up his stuff from my house a couple days later, I looked at the bruises on his face and wondered what I had ever seen there.
Lol @ me for reading this.
@Yawn, I second that sentiment. I feel like I should get to lock the OP in a car driven by a drunk for the same amount of time it took me to read this crap!
love this. all of them
Man, the last sentence of this is such a beautiful image.