"Why don't we just date for like 2 weeks, be really lame about it, then have a really dramatic break up?" was my suggestion, as I laid beside him in bed the next morning. We laughed about it and he jokingly (so I thought) agreed.
It had been building for months, the tension, the taboo. We work together and with his constant flirting, my friend's disapproval, and the basic fact that any time someone tells me not to do something I want to do it more, I knew it was only a matter of time before we consummated the attraction. And why not?
I was surprised when I checked in to Facebook the next day and saw that he and I were 'officially' in a relationship. This was something I haven't done in years. Publicly attach my name to someone else's whom I am romantically involved with is not high on my list of things to do. I could explore the reasoning of that for ages, but I'll just get back to the story at hand. I called him asking why he had done such a thing. "Babe. We're dating. We agreed on this." was his response. And so I laughed and went along with it.
At first no one believed us. I jumped in, posting pictures of him, and us, with obnoxious hashtags. Public make outs (which are not new for me at all, but still generally try to avoid at my place of work), calling each other 'babe' incessantly, sleepovers more often than not. In spite of my reservations, it was fun.
Yet within a few days we were more comfortable in public than in private. I no longer knew how I felt...was it a fake relationship? Sure he hadn't answered my text in a day or two, but he liked my picture on Facebook...and I was getting texts and comments from people inquiring about my new boyfriend. Who would you believe?
I was confused. My heart said one thing, my mind said another, my Facebook page said yet another. About 9 days in to our facade of blissful coupledom, an old flame of his came back to town unexpectedly. I was understanding of the situation, as I have a spot or two in my heart reserved for those separated by distance. I told him to figure it out, if you want to be with me then be with me. If not, then fuck off.
It was unsettling, a tough but interesting situation. Not that I hadn't had some competition in the past, but this was the first time I wasn't confident in the outcome. I waited around for a day or two, eventually realizing that I was wasting my time, and our experimental fling was over, despite the relationship status on my profile page.
When we finally talked I was neither surprised or devastated. He was apologetic and perhaps a bit too concerned. I listened to Robyn's 'Dancing On My Own' about a million times. I erased our Facebook history, my pretend indulgence in the #hesakeeper movement. I went to work. I got asked out by someone else. I declined.
If anything, this whole experiment showed me that a part of me is lonely, and I am jealous of those couples who hold hands in public, who know each other's friends well, who post pictures of themselves on vacation or their pet in a hundred different positions. It's annoying, it's lame, and I am envious.
At the same time, I value my freedom. I hate feeling like I have to report to someone else, no matter what the nature of our relationship is. The first time the 'ex' and I got drunk together I yelled "I belong to no one!!!!" at him about a dozen times.
He was playing a show this past Saturday at a bar I frequent when I'm not working. Exactly one week after the end of our two week relationship. He asked me to come repeatedly, as a friend, of course. I was working, and got cut in time to catch the very end of his set. But I didn't. Instead I took my time finishing up at work, and went to meet up with one of my best friends for a drink. We went by the bar afterwards, and made our excuses for not being able to get there earlier. I imagine that he looked at me with a kind of wistful longing, like perhaps he had made the wrong choice. But then again, it could have just been the weed, and my dry contacts. And I danced, not on my own, as it turns out but with my best friend.
Someone asked me what the point of all that was, anyway. On the surface it was a funny approach to a potentially dramatic situation. Plus, we both honestly really love attention. But if I look deeper, I think it was a very valuable lesson in humility for me. And as much as I don't know what I want, and will not be satisfied until I get it, I know what I don't want. That is, someone who's not as into me as I'm into them. Also, I should never be afraid to fall for someone, or to be honest about my feelings. I had a crush, it didn't work out, so what? My value as a person and possible partner does not come from the amount of times I've been accepted, or rejected. It comes from a thousand different experiences and beliefs that shape my personality. I belong to no one. And, for now, that is exactly what I want.
