Life As I Blow It (9 page)

The night he told me he was going to break up with Caryn I was confused. I expected to be really happy, but I wasn't. I looked at my friend, who I loved, and thought about how now we could have our chance. Then I pictured my other friend, who I also loved, and thought about how sad she was going to feel. I knew she really cared about Andy, and I certainly couldn't blame her. I ruled out telling him we should see what it felt like to dry-hump and tried to focus on giving him good advice. I needed to put my own feelings aside and be a good friend to both of them. I suggested he just be honest. We talked for a long time, and he seemed satisfied that he knew the right way to let her down gently. He got up to go, but I grabbed his hand and stopped him.
Shit
. I was doing so well at being neutral. Now his hand was in mine and he was waiting to hear what I had to say that was so important that it made me stop him on his way out the door.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I just … go easy on her. You're going to be hard for her to lose,” I told him.

“Don't make me feel worse.”

I sat there silent, struggling to fight back what I really wanted to say to him—how I knew he'd be hard to be without because I went through it every day. How he and I would be a great couple. How I was in love with him and if we just waited, Caryn would understand. How we should seriously see what it felt like to dry-hump.

“Do you think I'm making a mistake, Sarah?”

“Not at all. It's just … I found a bottle of toe fungus cream in her bathroom cabinet. I think she's probably really sensitive right now. That can be embarrassing to have, especially in the summer.”

Andy made a grossed-out face and left. I felt bad for a second, but toe fungus wasn't as bad as some of the other things I could have made up. At least I didn't say what I wanted to say and now things between us would still be normal. I knew that Caryn was going to be okay eventually. He and I belonged together, and if what I heard about soul mates was true, then he couldn't be hers because he was mine, and now that he would be free to be mine, she'd be free to meet hers. It's called a favor.

As expected, Caryn was sad for a while after they broke up. But she also was one of those girls who fell for a guy right away, so I knew once she went on a date with someone else she'd be really into him. I wasn't sure that was so great for the next guy, but it was great for everybody else and I hadn't met this imaginary guy yet so his happiness wasn't my problem.

A few months later, Andy and I were out in my sad white Mustang. It wasn't one of the cool Mustangs, it was the other kind—used, with cracked red vinyl seats. I don't even know how the conversation started; it just did. We'd had a fun night out for Andy's roommate Joby's birthday. We were all sitting in the car listening to Mötley Crüe and singing along to “Home Sweet Home,” which is probably where we should have gone. Joby had gotten so drunk that when I said anything to him he couldn't respond so he'd just lick my face. It was like having a drunk dog in the backseat.

Andy and I dropped Joby off at their place and carried him to bed. I tried to explain to Andy that he needed to sleep on his side so that if he vomited in his sleep he wouldn't choke to death. Andy explained that if Joby vomited, there was a good chance he'd wake up and go do it in the bathroom, or at least in the trash can we'd planted next to his
bed. I reminded him that my mom worked at a funeral home and that he should listen to me.

“Why? Has she told you that someone died because he choked on his vomit?” he asked, slightly panicked.

I thought for a few moments. “No.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“I don't know. But she does work at a funeral home. Let's go get some Taco Bell.”

We picked up Taco Bell then went to the park to sit and eat it in the car. No wonder my car always smelled disgusting. The park was the college equivalent of what The Woods or the Power Lines were for me in high school—where we all ended up after a night out.

We started talking and both admitted we had feelings for the other. I was elated. That wore off quickly when he brought up that he was worried about telling our other friends. I was worried, too, but he could have at least let me enjoy the combination of our revelation and a Beef Burrito Supreme (hold the tomato) for a minute.

“Caryn might be hurt,” I confirmed, “but she does already have a new boyfriend that she's really into.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

“Why, are you jealous or something? If you still like her I don't want to even have this conv—”

“I don't still like her, Sarah. I like you. I'm just surprised; I hadn't heard.”

“Okay. Well, I'm about eighty-seven percent sure he's gay, but I figure I should stay out of it. She's already going to be pissed at me.”

The guy I was referring to is now out of the closet and very happy. Maybe I should have majored in outing people.

Andy and I went back to my house that night, and nobody was there. We lay on my bed, like we'd done a hundred times before, but this time we were looking at each other differently. In the past it had always been platonic, and now we were thinking about making it unplatonic. (Yes, I just made that a word.) He leaned in to kiss me, and we both started laughing. He tried again, and we laughed. I tried to lead the kiss—we giggled uncontrollably. This was a nightmare. At least it was affecting us both this way, or the other person would have been really offended.

“What is our problem?” I asked.

“I don't know. I guess it's just weird. It's weird to think we are going to kiss.” He sighed.

“Kiss? I was sort of hoping we were going to have sex,” I told him.

He just looked at me.

I rolled my eyes. “God, I'm kidding,” I said, even though I wasn't. “We can't do it right away; it's too soon,” even though I had totally thought that was the plan.

Finally we leaned in to each other and successfully kissed. We busted out laughing afterward, but at least we managed to get our tongues in each other's mouths.

“Well, that's done. Maybe we should go ahead and get the fucking over with, too,” I said.

He just looked at me.

“God, I was kidding! It's way too soon for that!” I laughed even though up to that point that was the only thing on my mind.

We got under the covers and fell asleep together. It actually felt kind of good to just curl up with him and not have him tugging on my underwear. My heart was beating so fast
I thought it was going to come out of my chest. Suddenly I had the feeling that my life was going to work out.
I already have my guy
.

The next couple of weeks were filled with telling our friends we were a couple and trying to adjust to what it meant for us to date. Caryn actually took it pretty well, although she wanted to know how long I had feelings for him. It took a lot for me to do it, but I told her the truth. I was just glad that we could still be friends, so it seemed like I owed her that. I left out the part about how I once told him that she had Lyme disease.

After a few weeks Andy and I finally had sex. Up until then we had said we were dating but pretty much continued acting like we had the whole time we'd been friends. But one night at his place, we drunkenly decided to consummate our newfound love.

It was terrible.

We made it through the whole thing without laughing, but the rest of it was awkward. At one point, when he was fumbling to make his penis connect with my vagina, I started to wonder if he was a virgin. No, he and Caryn had definitely had sex. I had heard it through the bedroom wall one night while I spent an hour in tears digging through my closet for earmuffs. It wasn't that he didn't know how to do it; we just didn't know how to do it with each other. I wrote it off as nerves. It felt like we had an assignment to complete and we just wanted to turn it in and see what kind of grade we got. Maybe there was a reason that we'd been able to sleep in the same bed for so many months and never fool around. Physical attraction was not what was driving us.

The next morning he barely looked at me. He acted uncomfortable
and distant. I felt like I was going to throw up. I couldn't already be showing signs of pregnancy, so this meant I knew our relationship was over before it really started. I have no idea what went through his head, or why us finally having sex brought anything romantic between us to a screeching halt, but it didn't do much for my self-esteem. Even though I knew I didn't really enjoy it, I hated knowing that
he
didn't. I went home that morning and immediately called my friend Michele. She was one of my best friends in college, from my theater side.

Michele was a lot like me. We met when we were doing a play together. Early on in our friendship she had sex in a park with a guy she had just met and told me the next day she thought she had grass stains on her underwear. I instantly loved her. She was the first person that I connected with in the college/theater world that I felt comfortable bringing around my work friends.

“There's something wrong with my vagina,” I said when Michele answered.

“Sarah?”

“Yeah, it's me. There's something wrong with my vagina.”

“Okay. Do you need to go to the doctor?”

“No, not like that. It's something else. It scared Andy. My vagina scared Andy. We aren't going to be together anymore. We had sex and now he hates me. God, maybe it isn't normal-looking. What does yours look like?”

“It's nine
A.M.
It probably doesn't look good.”

“I'm serious, Michele. Do you have innies or outies? One night of sex and Andy is done with me. We barely even did it. It was kind of quick and not at all romantic and now he won't look at me. I left and he barely said a word.”

“Well, how did you feel about it? Did you enjoy it?”

“No, it was terrible. But I love him. It'll get better; it was just our first go at it. Shit, why is this happening? Oh, I know! I'll call you back!”

I hung up on her and dialed Logan's phone number. He and I had been friends since we were in high school. We had dated when we first met, then decided we were better as friends. We were the exact opposite of me and Andy. But Logan had seen my vagina. He could tell me what the problem was.

“Hello?” Logan answered, sounding sleepy.

“What's wrong with my vagina?” I asked.

“Sarah?”

“Yes, damnit. What the fuck is wrong with my vagina?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

I told him the story. He just sat there quiet.
Oh, God …
he knew he was going to have to tell me that I had a deformed vagina. He had hoped he'd never have to. Now he couldn't find the words.

“Logan? You have to tell me. We've been friends forever. You're a guy. What is going on?” The tears started pouring down my face.

Logan took a deep breath. “Sarah, it sounds like … well, it sounds like he got freaked out. Maybe it was too fast.”

“Too fast? Too fucking fast? We've been friends for two years. We've spent so much time together. Usually I have sex right up front. How is this too
fast
?”

“Maybe it was too fast for you guys to move to that level. Maybe he just wants to stay friends.”

My heart exploded.
Friends
. I had enough friends. “I have to go.” I was choking on my own tears.

“Hey. For the record, you have a perfectly normal vagina. It's not attractive, but none of them are.”

I hung up.

For a couple of days Andy and I just ignored each other. I couldn't understand how he could go so long without talking to me. I also couldn't understand how he could be so disrespectful. He knew he needed to call. As his best girlfriend, I'd told him a million times that he had to call girls. Now it was me who was on the other end of it. I was pissed. I couldn't call him; we were in a staring contest and I wasn't about to lose. We always said we were friends first. We had promised this wouldn't mess anything up and now it felt like it had.

In the midst of my anger I had answered my own question. He wasn't in love. He had just gotten wrapped up in the idea of it, but the second intimacy came into play he didn't feel what he'd hoped he'd feel. I knew because I'd done the same thing in the past, but unfortunately, this time I was the one left holding my heart in my hands.

I broke the silence with a phone call. I figured the only way to salvage this was to give him the rope he needed to get out of the hole he'd dug for himself. I didn't know how to not have him in my life. I decided I needed to make it okay for him so that I didn't totally lose him. Pretty pathetic, yes. But I was too invested and I figured if I played it cool now, we'd get back on track then maybe become wildly attracted to each other and give dating another shot. That's when I thought sex could get better over time. Too bad my thirty-six-year-old self couldn't have paid my nineteen-year-old self a visit then and told me that when sex is bad, it's bad. There's no changing it; you have to pick up your underwear and move on.

I assumed he wouldn't answer the phone, just as his best girlfriend had taught him to do when attempting to avoid a girl. I figured he'd tell Joby to take the call and pretend he wasn't there, but I would leave a message, which would open the lines of communication. I was surprised when he picked up on the first ring. Obviously he did not have caller ID.

“Hello?” he said.

“I was just reading this
Cosmo
quiz. How to tell if having sex with someone you are friends with has ruined—”

“I'm sorry,” he said right away. “I really am.”

“It's fine!” I shouted in a really exaggerated upbeat tone. “We're all good. That was totally weird. Let's not do
that
again. Gross! Oh, and I'm totally not reading
Cosmo
right now. That was just a hilarious joke.”