In all places, we met in the laundry room. I was drying a load while waiting patiently, practicing a monologue for an audition I had in a week. It was then that two boys came down, unaware of how to use the washers and dryers at school. Friendly enough (and also kinda flirty, knowing me), I lent them each my student card to wash their clothes.
That was how we met. He was Boy #2, and that's what we'll call him.
We hung out later that night under circumstances I'd rather not discuss. We bonded. It was a school night and here I was with an extremely cute boy, talking about life under the moon. There were so many things felt between the two of us, and I'd be lying if I said I had no feelings for him then and there. It was very unlike me, in many ways.
It was the next day when he kissed me. I'd come back to my dorm in between classes and he'd come for a cup of tea, skipping his lunch plans with friends. He was an amazing kisser. My mind raced as he gently caressed me in his strong arms that I was oh, so unfamiliar with.
The following night we went to a party. I don't even like parties, but I went. I don't think I've ever had so much fun dancing in a crowd of sweaty, drunk people. He held my hand, leading me through the crowds of people and kissed me passionately in the middle of the dance floor. It was as if we were the only two there.
We went outside for fresh air and he smoked a cigarette and I don't think I've ever been so attracted to someone smoking before in my life. It was the way he put the filter to his lips and gently took a drag before powerfully exhaling all the smoke -- all his anxieties -- away.
We left around two. We were both completely sober, having had nothing to drink that night to make us drunk enough. He walked me back to my room, holding my hand the entire way. He reminded me that I was safe with him. We eventually returned to my hall where I found myself pressed up against the wall outside my room, my hands in his hair and his arms intertwined around my waist. I kept saying I had to go, but I kept pulling him by the shirt back to me. I wanted him closer.
It wasn't until the next night that I saw him again. He came over and we got in my bed, watching The Office for nearly four hours straight. Vibrations of laughter filled my room and we kissed some more. He played with my hair. He held me close. He kissed my nose, my forehead, my neck. Around one in the morning, he said he had to go.
We wouldn't speak again.
So here is my question, Boy #2:
What the hell did I do wrong?
It was casual, I agree, but there was something there and you knew it too. I know you knew by the way you kissed me.
I wasn't pushy or clingy. I was just...there. Is that all I was to you? "There"? You know, that first night we spent together, you seemed so much deeper than the low-life playboys that seemingly roam around college campuses. You had revealed things to me about your life and I had done so about mine. You had said sweet things and been extremely nice.
So what happened?
Why did you, overnight, decide that you didn't like me anymore? And without an explanation? I deserve an explanation.
It would have been different, I know, if we'd had sex or been drunk at that party...but the matter of the fact is, we did neither. It was something more than physical lust and, dammit, you knew that. Is that what you were scared of? Falling for me when I'd already fallen for you? Or was it something different?
Don't worry about hurting my feelings. I just want an answer to what the hell happened because you left me so confused. For weeks after, I continued wondering what had happened and I found myself self-conscious around guys as well. Was I repulsive? Did I smell weird?
Maybe I took it too personally, and maybe I fell too fast. But I think I at least deserve an answer. That's all I want.
Lead Image Credit: Simone Perrone