Eight months of incomplete memories.
It was mid September. I was working as door staff at a live music venue. He was this weird boy that came up to me and asked to take my picture. I guess he thought I was pretty… maybe he told me that. I don't remember. We barely talked. Exchanged names, little else. He left before I could find out more. And then I found him on myspace, and we talked on msn some… not a lot.
Even then, I think I expected more of him than he was prepared to be. I created this image of him in my mind, expanding upon what little I knew - that he was into art, music, that he was or wanted to be, a writer. I was enthralled by his potential. I invited him to an art exhibition and lunch. With my friends. I wasn't game to ask him on a proper date. I don't think I've ever been brave enough to ask any guy out. Anyway he didn't go. But we still talked online. I was working at the club fairly often, and he went there, so I saw him sometimes too. He started working there and I saw him more. Sometime's we'd hang out afterwards. To me, he always seemed to be part of a different world. I was fairly sheltered, I hadn't been a rebellious teen, had not yet done the whole getting drunk, staying out etc. He did, and I skirted the outside of that world, trying to be closer to him. I was already falling for him.
I don't remember if we saw each other much other than that, except for one shining afternoon. I met him in town - I think it was planned, maybe he asked me to meet him because he was bored. His friend Simon was there too. Simon wasn't his real name. I named him that one night at the club, because I wanted to. The three of us walked around town, unproductively. We looked in art shops and got helium balloons. We experimented with letting them loose on reels of cotton, in the middle of the mall. Surreal. Beautiful. He took pictures of me again. That day I felt like I was someone he could fall for, that we were creating this magical not-world together.
He was a boy that wanted to be chased, but every time I chased him, he'd put up barriers, and I guess I just wasn't running fast enough to get over them. Yeah, that's a good analogy. It wasn't that I didn't want him badly enough, because I did. But I was afraid - afraid to chase him properly, because the faster you run, the harder you fall and the more you get hurt. And even then, I was too afraid of getting hurt.
One night I was managing a show at the club. I think, on this night or recently before it, something bad had happened. I'd decided not to like him anymore because of it. More than that, I was angry with him. Not angry, maybe disappointed or hurt. I forget, but I can assume it was something to do with another girl… I think I felt scorned. Hell hath no fury etc. Anyway, I was taking a break, and sitting in a car with some friends. He came up to the window. This is, I think, the moment in which I obliterated any potential we might have had. In six destructive words. I opened the window to him. He was drunk, and he said to me "apparently you like me". In retrospect, his attitude was one of shyness, poorly concealed with presumption. But all I saw was arrogance (because he was a boy that all girls liked). So I replied, coldly, "I did. Past tense. Go away". He left. I closed the window and my friends chastised me when I asked them if I had been too cruel. But it felt… not right, but satisfying.
The next time I saw him and he made as if to avoid me, I queried and he told me "I thought you didn't want anything to do with me". His hurt was evident and I felt the full ramifications of my bitter words. I apologised and told him nothing could be further from the truth. Our pseudo-friendship was restored.
One time he tried to kiss me. He was drunk. I resisted. I didn't want to be another drunken hook up. So many girls came and went in his life, meaning nothing. I was then too young to understand the ill-advised pursuit of a boy-slut. To be honest, I think I still fail to grasp said stupidity.
I lost my virginity to him in April. I was out one night with friends but I ditched them to find him. He was going home, so I waited with him at the bus stop. I'll never forget this conversation, even though now it seems almost comical.
"I've been sort of seeing this girl," he said looking at me sideways. I made a noncommittal noise of dissent. "I think she's just waiting for me to say something about being my girlfriend…" he paused, "kind of like you are."
How I responded to this escapes me. I think I denied it, but the conversation moved on to what we might want - relationship wise. He didn't want anything serious, I don't know what I said. I probably lied and said the same.
He missed his last bus home and through some haze of scene kids, mixed rollies and borrowed change, wound up coming home with me.
"I don't want to do anything" he said on the way. "Neither do I". It was half-true. I was vastly inexperienced and certainly not brave enough to admit my desire.
At my house, we drank. Vodka, a third of a bottle that I had leftover from something. And, as seems to happen when young drunk people share a bed, we kissed. And more. I remember the sex being enjoyable and confusing. Afterwards he asked me to put my underwear back on and he made me spoon him. I guess you can't make someone spoon you… you can spoon someone against their will, but you can't be spooned without some input. It made me feel lonely though, like he didn't want to hold me, but expected to be held.
The next day I had work. He walked me to the bus stop. I don't think we kissed goodbye. I didn't hear from him for a week.
This next bit isn't entirely clear. I was in town after running a show. I forget how I came to know he was about, but I remember wandering around trying to find him, and eventually catching up in a park. I sat on a construction barrier, and he stood in front of me, holding my hands. We talked, maybe fought, but gently. I asked him why he didn't text me all week, "you didn't text me either!" he parried, and I didn't know how to respond without resorting to gender stereotypes. Maybe I used them anyway. My mother has ever drilled into me "don't call him, let him call you" and it's hard to escape. We talked about things that weren't related to us as an "us". The subject of relationships was studiously avoided, although I tried to bring it up. Then someone came up and told him he had a ride somewhere and he had to go. I asked him not to, but he left. I texted him, "I really need to talk about this", he replied, "be friends, or deal with it."
It crushed me. I was heartbroken. We never really were friends after that. I don't think I've seen him more than a handful of times since. I still think of him sometimes, when he comes up in my Facebook feed. I hope he reaches his potential one day and has a good life.
