Dark Ages 10: Ed

That summer, I spent most of my time out of town. I was still going through guys at a rapid pace, but I think I was starting to get the hang of it…

I had been somewhat ambivalent about attending a family friend’s wedding, an 8-hour drive away. My young sister (age 7½) and I drove with another family friend, a grandfatherly type. I was looking forward to hanging out with the groom’s son — we had been friends as kids and I hadn’t seen him in ages — but he was off on some grand adventure and I didn’t know anyone else there and expected to be bored out of my skull.

The wedding took place at an acreage belonging to P, the bride’s sister. P was married to a younger man B, and B’s younger brother Ed was in attendance. Ed was tall and slim with long hair and looked like a musician — yum. There were a few other guys around my age, Ed’s friends or relatives I guess, I didn’t really notice them.

It was a gorgeous sunny day and, although the weather was a little cool for it, I was wearing my favorite dress — a sundress, deep red with tiny white polka dots, spaghetti straps, fitted at the waist and flaring to the hem, which ended somewhere around mid-thigh.

Somehow Ed and I started chatting, then wandered away from the house to chat some more. He mentioned that he and the guys had been trying to guess how old I was and that someone had figured me for 15. I was 19½.

I could feel the attraction. It turned out that Ed lived very close to my hotel, so we arranged to meet again that evening. My sister and I were sharing a room: I told her I was going out for a while. I met Ed in the lobby and we walked back to his place. I guess we talked for a while. Things got hot and heavy and we inevitably wound up in bed. But it ended not with a bang but a whimper: he couldn’t come so eventually we just stopped.

I found my own way back to the hotel, and by this point it was about 6:00 or so, and time to get up. I hadn’t slept at all, and tried to make up for it by snoozing on the long trip back, in the blazing sun, and my window was south-facing. Feh. I think the grandfatherly family friend was wise to the fact that I had been out all night, but at least he didn’t give me any grief about it.

Ed and I kept in touch, but the summer was just beginning…

Dark Ages 9: Three strikes at the club

[Or, “Sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll”]

Back home, I started hanging out at a new, low-rent (and low-ceilinged) live music venue. It was a shoestring affair in a basement under a restaurant, with scrounged furniture, no staff, no till and no liquor licence. I even helped out a bit behind what passed for a bar, selling soft drinks in cans. It was an alternative kind of place, which is probably why I earned such side-eye for wearing dress pants and a fitted blazer. But hey, I successfully stood out.

Strike 1

One weekend at the club, I met Tiny Tim. He was short (though still 3 or 4 inches taller than me), not much to look at, but entertaining and had the gift of the gab. We left together to grab some food at the only place that was open at that time of night: a much too brightly lit, late-night sandwich shop. After chatting for a bit, we went back to his place. Slept with a guy the day we met — another first.

I came over the next day and tried to help him with his French homework. This whole thing already seemed like a bad idea but as far as I was concerned we now had “a relationship”, and it seems I’m nothing if not loyal. It was awkward. We saw each other again later and slept together again. As much as it pains me to admit, the event stands out as actually feeling kinda good — I think because I was very tight and he was very small. (I don’t imagine he would have taken that as a compliment.)

The last time we got together, he got warmed up but I wasn’t interested in follow through. He was the first (and last) guy to complain to me about blue balls (a term had never even heard before), in what appeared to be a bid for a blowjob. I figured that was his problem and not mine. In all, this was a one-night stand that took an agonizing three days to die.

A couple of days later, I slept with Bad Boy one last time. Why? I have no fucking clue.

Strike 2

Surfer, a part owner of the club, was good looking, tall, fit and had long dirty blond hair. On the weekend following Tiny Tim, I found myself back at Surfer’s place at the end of the night. I must have seen some potential for a relationship (I never did get the point of actually deciding to have a one-night stand), and sleeping with him seemed like a reasonable idea. And then we got naked and I found he was… whiffy. Sleeping with him now seemed like a not very good idea, and yet I still went through with it. It seemed too late to call a halt, and on top of that I didn’t know what I wanted anyway. If there’s no real line, you can’t tell when you’ve crossed it.

In the space of one week, I had slept with three different guys. It would have been one thing if that’s what I was trying to do, but I was trying to have a relationship and failing miserably.

Strike 3

I tried to take a break from the menfolk, with little success. I met Drummer at the club, and he offered me a cup of tea (at his apartment down the block) and a shoulder to cry on. He was really sweet. Until I slept with him a week or so in, and then things weren’t so good.

One fine day I did acid, and at some point during the trip I dropped by Drummer’s place. He had this hat that he didn’t want anymore and asked if I wanted it. It was an ethnic, woollen thing. Too big, but kinda cool, so I accepted it. In the evening when I was coming down, I went by the club and ran into Tiny. My inhibitions were fairly low so I proceeded to give him shit and told him that if I’d known all he wanted was a one-night stand, I wouldn’t have had anything to do with him. I have no idea what impression it might have made on him (or anyone else nearby), but I felt somewhat empowered for a change.

The thing with Drummer lasted about three weeks before he dumped me. Turns out he wasn’t actually nice, he was just skilled at appearing nice until he got what he wanted. Although this wasn’t the first time I had been manipulated, I didn’t see it coming because Drummer played it so much more elegantly and deliberately than Bad Boy had.

The fallout: small world moments

Tiny Tim was working with my friend (and ex) Lucas, decided to dish about me, and named names. I don’t think Tiny knew that I knew Lucas, and I don’t think Lucas believed it at first. I was mortified to be outed.

And that hat from Drummer? Stolen, possibly the very day that he gave it to me, from a store a block away from my house and that I went to regularly. Which I discovered when I went into the store wearing the hat and caught grief about it from the staff person.

Fuck!