A Telling Breakfast

Breakfast, the most important meal of the day.

This story begins years ago, in college. I had a gen ed called “Quest For Self”, essentially, we read and discussed coming of age stories. As with most classes, there were about three or four of us who did the discussing. TALON and I were two of them. We ended up sitting next to each other and becoming friends. Over the course of the semester, we found out that we had a lot in common. I was a dance major and he was a jazz studies major. We ended up doing collaborations together and becoming good friends over the next few years we went to school together.

When I was moving to Chicago, I was having a really hard time because I had just broken up with BIRDIE after our 6 year relationship. My few friends that remained after the break up showed their true nature and were not there for me pretty much at all during this time. TALON, however, proved to be an excellent friend. He had already been living in Chicago for a while. He let me stay at his apartment during my transition between moving out of the apartment BIRDIE and I had shared and finding a new apartment. He drove me around to check out neighborhoods and look at apartments, we did our laundry together, we went to concerts together. We were chums.

This entire time, I felt so comfortable because he was (and still is) in a long term relationship. It is long distance, so I had never met her, but they had been dating for years, so I felt like his intentions with me were honest. That the kindness he showed me wasn’t just prelude to a fuck. I felt so lucky to have a true platonic friendship with a man.

SPOILER ALERT: that did not last for long.

After I completely moved to Chicago, TALON and I would hang out at least once a week. We always had  a fantastic time together, we always did fun things, we almost always drank and almost always smoked, so naturally we started to like each other. One night we were very drunk in my bedroom alone and surprise, surprise, we end up having sex. Both of us apologized to each other, and vowed that we would never do that again.

SPOILER ALERT: we did it again. and again. and again. and again.

We didn’t do it every time we hung out, but maybe every second or third time. The strange thing was that we NEVER talked about it. We would hang like bros, fuck, I would ride my bike home, we wouldn’t talk for a day or two, then just go back to normal. We both knew that we didn’t want to do it with each other per se, but we were drunk and lonely it just sort of ended up happening.

I felt bad being “the other woman”, but having cheated myself in the past, I understood that it was just sex and that he simply missed his girlfriend. We didn’t have “romantic” feelings for each other, we just both liked sex and were lonely and sad individuals. I knew that him having sex with me didn’t invalidate the love he had for his girlfriend, so I knew my place in the whole weird situation. Fair, right?

BUT a few months ago I finally confronted him after we had sex. I was pretty much like “dude, why are you having sex with someone [me] but staying with your girlfriend?” and he yells at me “I don’t want to have sex with you.” He says this to me while he is butt ass naked, dick still wet. I am thinking, ‘Hmmm, you could have convinced me otherwise 5 minutes ago. Plus I am not the one pursuing you. You are the one who asks me to hang out, you are the one who starts kissing me and undressing me. If you don’t want to have sex with me, then don’t.’ So I look at him dead in his eyes and say,

“fuck you, man”

I leave, and don’t talk to him again… until last night. He recently has been trying to ask me to hang out and do stuff with him again and I have been resisting. I finally give in, but I bike over to pick up my stuff, not hang out.

SPOILER ALERT: I end up hanging out.

TALON, his roommate and I all hang, watch Obama’s farewell speech, make margaritas, smoke, eat chips and salsa, laugh and have a grand old time. I am asking myself why I was ever mad at TALON, I am back with my boys, and am glad everything is back to normal.

SPOILER ALERT: it was not back to normal.

His roommate goes to sleep, and without missing a beat, we have sex. Like a champion, this dude cums inside of me. Then kicks me out of his house. Seriously. Now I am not on birth control (which he knows) and he wasn’t wearing a condom. So when he told me he came inside of me, I was like “what in the actual fuck?” and he says, “Now is not the time to talk about this”. He gets my coat, hooks the bag of my things on the handle of my bike and opens the door, cordially inviting me to get the fuck out.

3:30 a.m. Chicago, IL

Now, the bike home. At first I was walking my bike, no, no stumbling with my bike. I decide I am going to try and bike. That actually ended up being successful, I don’t know how drunkness didn’t affect my ability to balance on the bike, but I was fine, well relatively fine, I guess. Although that turned south quickly because the plastic grocery bag full of my things hits the wheel of my bike and bursts, strewing my things all over the street. Underwear went flying, nook skidded across the pavement, and I lost a shirt. So I had to gather all my things, hold them in one hand and walk my bike home with my other hand. Stumbling. At one point I was like, ‘where the fuck am I?’ My subconscious definitely got me home last night.

My texts to TALON are as follows:

3:48 a.m. – When you wake up you are going to buy me a plan b and a gatorade or coffee because 1) you are a piece of shit for cumming inside me 2) i already bought one before after we had sex a few months ago because i dont trust you and 3) you def should not have sent me home that drunk. Serious piece of shit.

Like as soon as you wake up. cant believe you dude.

4:00 a.m. – I repeat you are shit

4:02 a.m. – I repeat you are shit

4:13 a.m. – Like i am so not good.

9:44 a.m. – PLANBPLANBPLANBPLANBPLANBPLANBPLANBPLANBPLANB

He did follow my directions and deliver Plan B, Gatorade and coffee around 10 a.m. today, but the only thing he said was, “My car is still running, I have to go to work, we will talk later.” I took the bag, shook my head and went back into my apartment without a word.

Because I would be fine if we never talked ever again.

I went inside and ate my breakfast.

It told the story of my night as well as defined how I would spend the rest of my day.

It was a telling breakfast.