About four years ago, I was dating a guy (imagine that). We had just started seriously dating and I had an event to go to…I needed a “+1.” My problem was, he was going to be out of town on business the same weekend as the event.
So, he said it would be okay if I asked someone else to join me. I decided to ask my guy friend Sam. We had been friends for awhile and he was fun; we’d gone to an event like this before, no pressure. So, I asked Sam’s roommate if he thought Sam would be interested in joining me. He said, of course, and I said I wanted to ask him to the event in a fun way (like prom in high school). So the roomie gave me a key and said, do what you want.
My roommate and I blew up some balloons and put them in his room, along with a poster that was asking him to the event. I was pretty excited at how cute it looked and couldn’t wait for Sam to get home and see it.
Well, the hours passed and I heard nothing. The next day, I ran into Sam’s roommate at the mall. I asked him what the deal was and he said he didn’t know. The deal was, I was being blown off, by someone I thought was my friend. Since I was writing for the school paper at the time, I used that as an outlet to publicly bash Sam for being a coward—I wanted him to at least tell me no.
Years passed and I never heard from him. I ran into him several times during my blooming career as a bartender, but just acted like I didn’t know him. But last week, he caught me on Facebook chat.
He asked me all the usual questions—how have you been, where are you living, what job are you at now? etc…until he said: “When are you cooking me dinner? I’ll bring the wine.”
“Smooth,” I said, to which he responded, “Yeah, just like in college.”
“Yeah, until you rejected me.” I said.
“Well, you got me back with that column,” he replied.
He went on to tell me that he wanted to apologize for rejecting me, blaming his actions on being a “scared little boy.” What-the-eff-ever. Then, he tells me that he even took pictures of what we did to his room; he liked it. WEIRD. I said, okay so you liked it, but still rejected me? Then, he told me he even kept the column I wrote about him…what the hell? Does he have a damn scrapbook? THEN, he tells me he wants to buy me a drink to make up for it.
I love alcohol. And it’s not like I’m sitting over here with a list of people to kill, Billy Madison style or anything. But I just don’t want to get into all of that. It’s been years, I don’t care anymore, we’ve obviously both moved on, so whatever. But being me, I figured his invitation for a drink was one of those invites you know will never happen, so I said sure. To which he says, “after all, you were my first date in college.” WHAT?!
The conversation was pretty much left at that. I couldn’t handle the weirdness any longer.
Sadly, a few days later, Sam’s mother went in the hospital for open heart surgery and passed away less than a week afterward. For me, death surpasses any other drama, so I sent him a text message saying how sorry I was for his loss and to let me know if there was anything I could do for him.
I should have mentioned that I didn’t mean a booty call.
He said thanks. And left it at that. Until yesterday.
Around 7:45 am, on my drive to work, he sends me a message asking me if I would like to hang out this week. “Hanging out” and getting a drink are two different things. I don’t want to put myself in a situation where I’m alone with him, on his couch, or otherwise and he’s trying to put the moves on. In a public place? Eh, okay. So I say sure.
He says, “Well I took off work this week…for obvious reasons. So just let me know.” Well damn. I honestly didn’t want to waste a night of relaxation for wriggling out of someone’s death grip, so I threw out Tuesday night—a night I hang out at a local bar & grill with my friends. I wrote him back saying my friends and I hang out there every Tuesday from 5 until whenever, so he was welcome to join. I figured it was nice enough, he wouldn’t be spending his evening alone, and could enjoy some food and drink. He said, okay cool. Awesome, everyone wins.
Or so I thought.
I didn’t hear from him again yesterday, but I wake up this morning to my text message buzz—6:31 am Sam: You should’ve come cuddle with me last night.
I didn’t know what to say, and probably should’ve just said nothing. But this blew my fucking mind. We haven’t talked or hung out, much less seen each other in four years and he’s saying we should’ve “cuddled” last night? Yes, I know, I’m single, what do I have to lose? A night of decent sleep in my own bed, dammit! Just because I’m single doesn’t mean I’m easy and looking to bed hop. So I reply with, “I should’ve gone to bed earlier,” Alluding to be being tired as fuck (thank you, nightmares of my ex having sex with other women). His reply?
I stuck it out and didn’t reply to that. I am willing to try and cheer someone up or be there for them during a moment of loss. I am not, however, willing to “cuddle” with basically a random person just for funsies.
Here’s to hoping he doesn’t show up tonight.