that guy from my frat

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So, the day before I left campus, that guy from my frat (fuck it, I’m calling him that from now on) tried to bootycall me. 

Earlier that evening, we were with some friends and he tried to pull some moves on me. I may have been a little receptive, but I don’t think I completely put the light on and said I was down.

And it wasn’t even the fact that he did it so much as how he did it. He said he wanted to “say goodbye to me and wish me happy holidays”. At 1 o’clock in the morning. Okay.

He then tried again the next day during the afternoon before I headed home. I guess he wanted some afternoon delight. Credit for creativity, maybe? But, for God’s sake, minus points for desperation.

I don’t know what specifically bothers me about it, but something about it just felt so unclean.

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That guy from my frat. I still haven’t named him. I promise, I’ll get around to it. I just can’t figure it out.

Somehow, later on in the evening, he and I wound up separated from the rest of our friends, smoking a joint and talking. I simultaneously impress and scare myself sometimes when I consider how natural inhaling has gotten for me, especially since I don’t smoke tobacco. I have a lot of things about myself that leave that sort of impression. One of those things is my bravado, which it appears he’ll never see the bottom of.

I just have fun being a little mean to him. I made him wait outside of a crowded ladies room for me to stand in line for a stall then fix my hair and makeup just to get a dance with me. I tease mercilessly. It’s just bad.

So, I decided to be kind and gentle when we were alone. Because ever since I was a kid I’ve been told I intimidate the opposite sex for one reason or another. And, because I didn’t want to completely crack the poor boy’s ego to bits; he’s a nice guy.

Of course, I still bullied a bit. He has a long-distance girlfriend from back home and, when pressed about the terms of his relationship, he gets a little evasive. This is something called a red flag in my book. So, finally, I poked, “what’s going on with your lady then, Mr. Fidelity?”

“We’re trying,” he shrugged.

“Trying what?” I asked.

“Trying,” he sighed, “but she has a different definition of fidelity than I did.”

“And what’s that?” I pried.

After all the assumptions I’d made about him being the one making some poor little unknowing girlfriend cry and get into polyamory, he was the one who had been cheated on. I felt a little bad for all the mocking I’d done. Poor kid had his heart broken and was just trying to salvage something. How could I tease?

Our conversation jumped around a bit before I formally apologized a second time. It wasn’t my fault, he repeated. He brushed some ash from my joint off of my thigh. “I don’t know how to ash stuff,” I admitted, “I don’t know how to flick it right. I was really lame in high school. And boring.”

“You’re not lame anymore,” he smiled.

We went and grabbed some 3 am munchie-medicine-food afterwards. I think we’re going to be friends. For real.

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There was a guy in my life my freshman year. He was very attractive, very funny, very intelligent. But, there was something a little uncomfortable and closed off about him. We stayed friendly, but our schedules and interests just couldn’t sync the right way. But, I am still proud to hear that he’s found his own and has embraced his bisexuality and is now so comfortable in his own skin. 

The other night, I ran into him and a guy in their costumes dancing up a storm at one of the parties we hit up. He looked so comfortable, I was happy for him.

“Now, who is this?” I asked with a chuckle, “last time I checked, you said you didn’t dance.”

He smiled, “look at you.” He broke off from the guy and started dancing with me. He spun me around so my back was to him and kind of pushed me into the other guy. I assumed that he had made a mistake or was just trying to pass me off, but I still felt him behind me.

So, I wind up between them. Their hands were all over me. His dance partner was grinning at me. The music was sensational. Not to mention their moves were insane. I was getting practically passed back and forth at some points, at others both of them were on me. I have to admit, it made me hot. They knew what they were doing. And, the fact that they were into each other as well as into me? Goodness gracious.

I look over to the group I was with and notice that guy in my frat checking me out. He smiled when we made eye contact. I winked. Eye-fucking commenced. And then: “It’s funny.”

I smiled, “what’s funny?" 

"That there’s two of them and they still can’t handle you.”

Flirttexting.

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Guy in my frat: Sorry I couldn’t be your date to that thing.
Me: Date? I was inviting you and a bunch of other people as friends.
Him: You’re the one who used the word date.
Me: Only I didn’t.
Him: I was joking.
Me: Sure.
Him: To the joke or to a date?
Me: Smooth.
Him: Don’t hate the player, hate the game.
Me: Too bad you have no game.

I think I’ve found a new hobby. This sort of back-and-forth continued for a good chunk of the evening. He once told me after some liquid confidence that he liked to dominate women. I told him he couldn’t handle me. Apparently, he took this as a challenge.
I’ll just need to brainstorm some sort of nickname for him.