So skip to later in the night. I’m wearing a white tank top with a red bra underneath in an attempt to be simple, yet sexy. I probably just look stupid. We’re all playing flip cup in the garage and my team has just won our fourth game. Keslee informs me that Tim, her new boy toy, is coming over with Spencer in tow. Of course I get nervous, take some shots and constantly look at the door. After what seems like twenty four hours but is more like twenty four minutes he shows up. Sans girlfriend. Fuck. Bad news. Bad news.
I do my best all night to stay strong. When he comes in I give him a birthday hug and say hello. When he requests a song, I actually go upstairs and download it, 1) because I’m just that nice 2) because I like him 3) because I want to hear it too and 5) because I am his love slave.
As the night goes on, he gets more and more flirty and I’m pretty good at resisting. I resist when he puts his tongue in my ear. I resist his constant beckoning of me to sit on his lap. I resist his compliments. I also tell him never to be a dick or lie to me again. Dead serious. He actually apologizes- which is a very big step, considering he’s a genuine dick. After more temptation and being started at like the I’m the fox and he’s the hound, it gets down to just me, him, and Bailey on the couch. I become silent when the conversation turns to OId Yeller. He says that she’s the first girl he’s ever fallen for and states the qualities that he loves. Yes, right in front of me. It’s just a little too much. I’m torn because I know I should go to bed, that he shouldn’t sleep over (not to mention I have a midterm in the morning and its 4:30). But, he’s smoking and I won’t say no. Not tonight anyway. I want him in my bed. So I linger until he asks if he can sleep over and I say yes. And he does. It is his birthday, right?
He actually doesn’t try anything funny but we cuddle and what not. The morning is a different story but I tell him it’s not his birthday anymore. He tells me to relax and I tell him to relax. Literally. Considering he’s poking me.
When he leaves I’m left wondering what the hell I’m doing. What gratification am I getting form this? None. He has a girlfriend (or whatever) that he loves (enough) and he comes to me when she’s not around (she goes to a different school). It’s simple and I really thought I’d never get into this type of position. Not after all I’ve been through. I have to stop and so does he. This is student. “Snuggling” (his word, not mine) is not enough.
I do a good job of not thinking about Spencer for the rest of the week. I occasionally facebook stalk him, but what do you expect? I never see him. On Wednesday, I even flirt with one of my top three at school and talk to Zach’s roommate about him. I’m doing alright.
Then, Monday night, I get a call from you guessed it. Ole Spence. This is the first time he’s ever called me, which is another reason the whole situation is ridiculous. He says a series of inappropriate things to me in true Spencer fashion and wants to hang out. He is drunk. Spencer is not drunk too often. I am not drunk. I tell him I’m going to bed. I hang up. Fifteen minutes later I get a couple texts that go like this.
Him: What does being sober have to do with anything?
Me: What exactly do you want, Spencer?
Him: I want to hang out. Is that so much to ask? To enjoy your company. So what’s the problem?
This is bullshit.
Me: The problem is you have a girlfriend
No response.
I’m convinced he’s not going to answer but I get another call about ten minutes later. He says he wants to “snuggle” (again, eiw) and I tell him I’m not doing that anymore. Apparently his girlfriend “won’t care” and we won’t hook up. Surprisingly it doesn’t take much to tell him no. He says some more things that aren’t worth remembering, basically trying to fool me into thinking I’m making the wrong decision. Like I’m an idiot. I tell him goodnight. This thing with Spencer keeps getting weirder and weirder and I’m getting progressively sicker of it. He leaves me confused and unsatisfied. Again. Gee, I really know how to pick ‘em.
Maybe, Noe
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