that guy from my frat – Page 2

Fuck Baseball, Part Five

I was really, really enjoying what was going on with Craftsmate. On a lot of levels. I was blindfolded, tied to the bed, having my nipples played with, and being condescended to. Just about every part of that is an A+ in my book.

Except that stupid creeping feeling came up again where my brain went “well, he didn’t even try to kiss me, so he must not respect me at all”. Except, I didn’t particularly want to kiss Craftsmate. He’s a fun friend and an interesting activity partner, but I just didn’t feel too terribly inclined to kiss him.

But I’m lying there and thinking, “well, here’s the natural progression of stuff and we’re not doing the natural progression so this is wrong and I am a whore”.

Which is, uh, how I felt with that guy from my frat that time we hooked up. Even if kissing did kind of clash with the intended activity.

But I asked and he kissed me. Awkwardly. We were both uncomfortable and it was plainly obvious that neither of us particularly wanted to. And so I made him untie me and I proceeded to freak out about how sleazy I am.

So, uh, sorry to put a damper on the sexy for a moment. But, yes, it’s honestly how that went down and I wasn’t particularly proud. But, I think it’s important to share this stuff with the sexy. And, we got to talking and, yes, I promise, there’s a happy solution.

This past Friday night, I was talking with my best friend here at Ivy University and she mentioned that she had been hanging out with that guy from my frat and he had brought me up in conversation. Recently, he had said something vaguely complimentary and a little rude about me to Craftsmate, so I rolled my eyes and tried to change the subject.

“He says that he really wanted something with you but realizes that if you two were ever something that it probably wouldn’t last long. And he would rather be your friend and not lose you,” she blurted out.

It was the most vindicating thing I could possibly hear. Things were strange and ambiguous and he had been fluctuating between aggressive pursuit and then trying to basically Almost Famous me away to Craftsmate. I wanted to be his friend, just his friend, without the weird grey areas and the weird nonsense flirting.

Fast-forward a few hours. We’ve all had a little too much to drink and I spot that guy from my frat, rush over, throw my arms open and say a little too loudly, “I want to be your friend, too!”

“Ivy, we are friends,” he replied, laughing. He hugged me close.

I could feel that I was smiling like a moron, “that’s great. That’s really great."

We went out together Saturday night. As friends. Before we met up with some other people, he and I were having a drink and hanging around. Nearby, somebody turned and made a comment about our banter, saying we should go tour. We laughed, smiled at each other, and went to go find our friends. The evening was fabulous.

Sunday, we had dinner together. Conversation was easy and afterwards he walked me to the library in the most unassuming way possible.

Hurray. Chapter closed.

I realized that I never actually mentioned what happened with that guy from my frat beyond a sentence in some post. Mostly because I was a little conflicted about it, but I feel sort of equipped to share now.

Simply put: it was a really hot but really confusing encounter. And most of the people I have told about it agree with the hot stuff and don’t totally understand why I’m all hung up on random details.

Call me a traditional sap, but the asshole don’t kiss me.

To be fair, it didn’t fit in completely with what we were doing. He came home with me and one of my friends had fallen asleep on my carpet. So we were sort of quietly sitting up on my bed and talking.

It’s been a while, so I forget the context, but I remember telling him that I didn’t know how to place him because I didn’t know what he wanted.

“You know what I want,” he said, “but it’s more fun not giving myself that.”

And he held me down, eased my skirt up, and proceeded to edge me like I never have been before. He was firm but still sensual. The whole time I was desperately attempting to stay quiet and, just as I was teetering right at the edge, he stopped. He grinned, pulled the sheets up, and tucked me in.

“See?” I could see his smirk in the darkness. “It’s a lot more fun when I just tease you.”

And he left. I laid there in shock for a while, frustrated and awed.

On a ton of levels, I find that whole interaction incredibly hot. But I guess there’s still part of me that’s stupidly hung up on insecurities that he must not respect me, even when I know that isn’t true.

So, the other night, Craftsmate and that guy from my frat met each other.

It was sort of bound to happen. Craftsmate had figured out who he was from my facebook and then ran into us while that guy from my frat and I had been awkwardly left alone. Surprisingly, things were actually sort of okay and that guy from my frat was being really sweet, but the additional presence of Craftsmate suddenly made everything seem a little out of control.

I know Craftsmate wasn’t going to tell him about my tumblr or anything, but the two hit it off really quickly after I introduced them. They’ve both got these horrible little trickster personalities and naturally they both started teasing me.

“You’re not allowed to be friends, okay?” I pouted.

They both laughed. “Oh, we’re going to be friends.”

While I know I’m not in any danger of discovery, the fact that the two are interacting…I don’t know. Craftsmate told me he’d respect my choice if I told him they couldn’t get friendly, but I don’t see the point in that or why I’m actually so concerned.

I think it’s more the fact that both of them are sort of the same kind of evil. And I don’t mean entirely sexually. They just work off of each other pretty well because they’re both just so mean.

vintagegal:

Traci Lords in Cry-Baby (1990) (deleted scene)

I went out on Saturday night with some friends and bumped into that guy from my frat. The whole night he was pursuing me to the point that he even had to awkwardly acknowledge it himself. He was pulling a lot of the moves that I have sort of become familiar with and I was actually kind of amused about the whole thing.

If you recall, I had a little weird drama with him over the formal and kind of mentioned that something else had happened in a post I forgot to label and I’m too lazy to look for. But, the reasons I provided in the posts were not the reasons I was upset with him. Simply put: he did show up. With his girlfriend from home. Who looked a lot like me.

And then tried to hang around my friends and I like it was nothing. After that, he acted like nothing had happened. And when I started getting with Switch, his teammate, that guy from my frat got a little awkward with me and we just never even spoke about it because I was of the position that I was done with him.

When it first happened, I didn’t want to write on tumblr about it because I was, honestly, a little hurt. I imagine she sort of blew into town and he had to quickly sort of cover his tracks. Honestly, though, he could have just been honest with me and I would have respected the situation. But the whole thing was ridiculous and I didn’t feel like writing about it, so I came up with another excuse as a placeholder.

I just found out that, apparently, he and his girlfriend broke up over the summer fairly recently after the formal. I doubt it had anything to do with me, but it explains why he’s suddenly all over me and sending me things like Feminist Ryan Gosling months too late.

In the interest of not rambling on too much about this whole thing, I’ll allow sweet Judy up there to articulate my feelings about the present situation.

That guy from my frat actually just asked me if I’ve ever heard of Feminist Ryan Gosling. Seriously?

So, I had no issue bullying him a little. Because I think it’s been too long since I bullied him. And because I think he deserves it.

Last night was so wonderful and such a nice way to relax before finals. We drank, we laughed, we had a ball. I do not yet have the chutzpah to post a picture of myself in my dress to my sex blog so I can possibly be identified, but I was told I looked lovely.

Especially by this friend of mine. The one who wants to paint me. In an encounter that could’ve turned into something naughty had her date not walked in. (Pshhh boys stink).

There’s another event tonight. That guy from my frat will probably be going and despite the fact that a friend said the real reason he dipped out was finances, I loudly and drunkenly announced at the table that I wouldn’t touch him unless he promised me three hours of cunnilingus. So I guess I have to make good on that now…whoops.

I get into this terrible habit of slut-shaming myself when things don’t go exactly my way with guys.

Which is super healthy, right?

That guy from my frat says this weekend is super busy for him. And instead of taking this at face value and being like, “totally, okay, cool, he’s just got a lot on his plate for finals next week” I jump right to, “he doesn’t want to go with me because he thinks I’m trash.”

I don’t know why I go there, but it’s a really strange insecurity of mine. My knee-jerk reaction for a while now has literally just become, “[person in question] thinks I’m a whore and has lost interest”. In my defense, it’s been drilled into my head since like age eight by the patriarchy that if I get around too much I don’t deserve affection. (And you’re not fucking helping either, Taylor Swift, you backwards man-stealing puritan, seriously just because someone’s less pure and nerdysexy and blonde than you are doesn’t mean they deserve a boyfriend).

Sexually open women deserve this stuff just as much as women who make the choice to abstain. I’ve just got to silence the stupid critics in my head.

Text this morning from that guy in my frat: “I don’t think I’m going to formals.”

Honestly, someone had better have died. Because otherwise his chances with me just did. And seriously I just turned somebody else down yesterday. This feels like high school.

SERIOUSLY THIS IS NOT HOW YOU WOO A WOMAN. FOLLOWERS, TAKE NOTES.

Clearly 21 is the age of the beefhead.

After my mother left, I went out with a bunch of friends and just danced for hours. It was probably one of the best nights out I’ve had all year, we all just let loose.

At some point, I caught up with that guy in my frat. I know, followers, I know, I swore myself off him earlier this week. But, according to one of my friends, he talks about me nonstop when I’m not around. I don’t think I can honestly fault him for going out and having some random hookup when we aren’t even together.

Anyway, right away he asked, “why didn’t you introduce me to your mother?”

I laughed and shook my head. “You could’ve come over and introduced yourself like everyone else.”

“You should’ve introduced me,” he insisted. “I didn’t want to be rude and come over.”

“How noble,” I replied.

He shrugged, “I thought she’d want to meet the guy who is taking you to the formal.”

“Oh, so now you’re taking me to the formal?” I raised a brow.

“If you’ll let me.”

One of my friends was waving me back over to the dance floor. I smiled and started to walk over, but not before saying, “only if you’re a gentleman.”