Lucas and I had become good friends. And then…
Late summer nights, black velvet sky, occasional glimpses of northern lights. Hanging out with friends who didn’t know what we were up to. Exchanging secret, knowing glances. We should, we shouldn’t… Should we?
In the late summer, a few months after First moved away, Lucas started going out. I broke it off about three weeks in because I didn’t want to ruin the friendship, but we couldn’t keep our hands off each other and were back together a week later.
I think Lucas must have been the first guy to give me oral, but I’m embarrassed to say that I have no recollection of the event. At some point I got in my head that we would have sex (not that I particularly wanted to); I told him and he bought condoms, but it never happened. Just as well: this was the first (but certainly not the last) time I connected ‘sex’ with ‘should’, and put pressure on myself. I don’t know why Lucas was ‘should’ while First had been ‘shouldn’t’ — maybe because we got along better?
Perhaps I realized deep down that we were better suited to be friends, but when I broke up with him after three months, the timing was entirely down to the fact that I wanted to pursue someone else.
I tried out for the school musical for the first time and got a lead role. Blondie was the other female lead and her boyfriend, Guitarist, also had a major role. I got to know him, spent time with him.
Just the two of us at his place, an older house with wooden floors. Chilly night outside. The warm glow of lamplight inside. I sat on the shabby couch. He sat beside me on the floor, playing guitar and singing a song that he had written, sometimes looking into my eyes. I almost believed that he had written it for me.
He told me that he and Blondie had split; I dumped Lucas to date him. For three days.
Guitarist and I went to a party at Blondie’s house, and he dumped me. Another first. I was gutted, the emotional pain so intense that I figured it must be love and told him so (cringe). He was back with Blondie the next day. In my agony, I skipped school.
Of course I hadn’t loved him and I may not have even liked him all that much. It was the flat rejection that knocked me on my ass, regardless of the source. As excruciating as it was at the time, I had almost completely forgotten about him and being dumped — how’s that for perspective?