“Eat with me, laugh at my jokes, watch movies with me…that shit. That’s literally all I fucking ask.”

“Bon Qui Qui” (obviously not her real name) is…unique. I say that while knowing that the phrasing I used there is what could only be described as the sanitized way one would speak about a person. Especially when they know that calling them a “yuck mouth son of a bitch” would be in bad taste. While definitely being an acquired taste, she is nothing short of a wonderful woman. A woman that has lived a life not too unfamiliar to all of us quasi-functional fuck ups that have the gall to wonder how we woke up with no underwear on in someone else’s car. We know what we did. We know who we did.

This night, like some nights, we found ourselves sitting in the middle of my kitchen talking about life and all of its intricacies (thanks dictionary.com!!). Not in the way that would provide anything resembling insight or nuance into who we are as people, mind you. But in the “half-drunk, lemme get this thought out fast because I’ve gotta go piss but then Imma be right back” sort of way. If I could I would conduct every interaction in my life that way, but apparently that’s not conducive to making people want to have sex with you. Fucking fascists….

Anyways, we’re sitting in the middle of the kitchen talking and we circle around to what I think is something our youth obsessed, facebooks and interwebs snapping generation loses sight of sometimes. That being: recognizing our inherent value and expecting another to do so as well. Without coming off as ’96 era Mariah Carey entitled of course. Me being the socially impaired half man that I am gave me the school of thought that my worth was determined by whatever woman wanted to accomplish getting a friction burn on her genitals with mine. Apparently, there is a fringe sect of people who believe that only the individual can decide what treatment they deserve and set stipulations on what they will and will not allow. Now before you interject, let me just say that I know what you’re thinking “ New phone, who dis?”. Good question, but completely unrelated to the matter at hand. The right question would be “Gee whiz, Fuketteditor. How can I make myself into a self-respecting fella that can still charm the dames”. To which I can reply “Luiz, you really have to stop watching porn made in 1954.”. Either way,I don’t have the ability or the comprehension skills to tell you what you SHOULD know but hopefully this anecdote shines a little light:

So, there was a situation you had not too long ago. The banner by which all relationship-illiterate people sail their ship of Ain’t Shit, if you will. What was it?

Well, I was seeing this guy, [[Alex]}. I was seeing [Alex], and I was kinda, sorta, maybe , talking to [Sam] as well. *laughs* I’m kind of a horrible person…*trails off*

Oh, come on. That doesn’t make you a horrible person. It just makes you a practical person. What if [Alex] broke down? You gotta have a spare, right?

Shut up.

No.

Dumbass.

Okay, yeah maybe. Back to the topic. How would you describe [Alex]? And don’t mention dick size cause I may be insecure about some things.

Um, yeah, he was a party boy. He was also a know it all, very attractive, and charismatic.

Very attractive? That’s such a clinical word to describe someone’s do-ability ™. Don’t people usually use “sexy” or “hot” or “Idris Elba” to describe someone’s level of attractiveness?

Yeah, but I remember thinking in the first few weeks we were dating that he had really good style. Like, style that mirrored my own and I thought that made him really fucking attractive.

Alright so this is an attractive, know it all, style conscious specimen of “he can get it”. What had happened between you and him that caused a rift to from between you?

Oh my god this is bad but I’m gonna try. The final thing that made me say fuck it was not because I found someone else, but that he didn’t know that there were minimal things you need to do to make me happy. Honestly, with guys, all you have to do is be around. Just be there.

Like a lamp?

Like eat with me, laugh at my jokes, watch movies with me…that shit. That’s literally all I fucking ask. It’s not that hard…this nigga asked me to buy him beer on my birthday.

Just beer? Why was that a problem?

He was always fucking broke when we were together, you know? I floated him a bunch of times we went out and it was my fucking birthday! I knew that he was broke but I also knew that he had come into money a couple of weeks before. Still he didn’t even get me anything. He didn’t even get me a gift. I had actually talked to him a few days before we went to the bar while we were at his house.. He told me he was maybe gonna come and I remember thinking that this dude better not ask me to buy him anything. I was actually hoping he wouldn’t come.

I’m gonna be “that” guy. The obvious fucking question guy. Question being: Why in the fuck were you still together if this dude was just a toilet to piss your money away?

Because he was fun! He was SO fucking fun sometimes. It’s just that that shit wore thin that night. You know his fucking roommate brought me shots, but not him! His roommate was there and I was fine with him not being there cause I was with my friends and I didn’t want the drama…*says quickly* also cause [Sam] was there.

Come again?

[Sam] was there.

Youuuuuuuuuu harlot!

No! [Alex] was a piece of shit for always asking me to take care of him when we were out! Usually it’s like “ I take care of you sometimes, you take care of me sometimes” but that shit wasn’t happening. He actually came to the bar and we had a fight right there.

You broke up at the bar?

No, not immediately, but we fought because he felt that [Sam] was getting a little flirty with me. *laughs*

How long did you know [Sam] at that point?

We had been hanging out for about 2, maybe 3 weeks at that point. Solely as friends in a “platonic but I kinda wanna fuck you” way.

Oh yeah, I know that way. (editor’s note: I don’t. I don’t know that way.)

Well, I will fess up and be like, not everything I did was on the up and up. It was in the sense that I didn’t cheat on anybody, but…..

But?

There’s no nice way to say it. I was fucking lying to myself. Acting like I didn’t do anything wrong when I know that men and women in relationships shouldn’t be hanging out with single people they’re attracted to.

What did you guys do together?

We would hang out! We’d talk and just, like, be with each other and it was chill.

You got emotionally invested. You got emotionally invested in [Sam] while you were with [Alex].

Yeah, it was definitely emotional.

What cuts deeper though? Emotional cheating or physical cheating?

You can definitely come back from emotional cheating, sure.

Really?

Yeah absolutely. I feel that you an never take back that STD you brought home or-

What about the trust? The feeling of security you have from feeling that you know somebody? This famous “intimacy” I keep hearing about?

Well that’s the thing, you can know somebody really well, but by hanging out with them day in and day out you miss some of the nuance and subtleties you noticed when everything was new. I took [Alex] for granted like he took me for granted but I knew him. He didn’t care about any emotional…whatever between me and [Sam]. It’s when [Sam] got close and touched me. That’s when he started to feel some type of way.

But you allowed [Sam] to get close

Yeah, but it’s one of those things where you hate to tell someone that you feel you’re being used and I felt used, you know? Money ain’t shit to me. It can be replaced. I just wanted to have a fucking good time with him and, yeah, I’ll buy him shots or whatever but it’s not how shit is supposed to go EVERY time. The problem was when he expected me to just cover him.

His expectation for you to take care of him caused this relationship to fail?

I definitely did as well but, yeah. Yeah it did.


Originally published at fukette.com.

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