Seeing as it is Easter Sunday I thought that it would be
appropriate to provide my fabulous readers with an account of my worst Easter
ever; which also happens to be a dating disaster.
This one has a whole lot of back story, but I promise it has
to do with Easter. Names have been changed, mainly because I can, but also to
protect identities and what-not.
In 2006 I moved into a house on Del Playa in Isla Vista,
California, with 11 other people. It was awesome. I met tons to cool people and
the friend’s I’d met the previous year in the dorms loved dropping by to drink
on the beach with us. One such friend from the dorms introduced me to his close
friends who had just moved from the Atascadero area. They were a year younger
than me and it showed in their maturity level, not that I was much better-which
you’ll agree with shortly.
One of the friends was named John. He was cute, but in my
eyes very young. He had no clue what he wanted to do with his life; he was 18, in
reality this was completely understandable, but I was year older and wiser and
thought I had my future all planned out. He also had a huge crush on me, which
he made very clear. I turned him down a few times, but he was persistent. We
hung out a handful of times, playing beer pong and partying until the wee hours
of the morning. One night, he kissed me, and I did nothing to stop him. That
became our new thing, we would party and make out, but that was it. I just wasn't interested in anything further with “such a young guy”.
The more we partied, the more I got to know his roommate Mike.
Mike was the opposite of John, he came off as mature and responsible, he knew
what he wanted with his life and we secretly flirted when John wasn't looking.
Yeah, we were super mature.
One night, we were all at my house playing drinking games when
I excused myself to take a phone call in my bedroom. When I exited my room,
Mike was coming out of the bathroom; we were completely alone and wasted no time
once we made this realization. Within minutes he had me pinned against the wall
as we shoved our tongues down each other’s throats. We started to back into my
bedroom when John yelled to Mike to hurry up, apparently it was their turn to
play beer pong. Although we weren't actually caught, we felt like we were and
agreed not to act further until we discussed the situation with John. We weren't able to pull John aside to talk in private, so I got to spend the night dodging
cuddles and kisses from John.
The next day Mike showed up at my house to tell me that he
had had a long talk with John and although he was bummed, he gave us his
blessing-and so began our mini-relationship.
We started dating a week or two before spring break and pretty
much became joined at the hip for those two weeks. Basically the only time we
were apart was when we were in class.
When spring break rolled around we suddenly found ourselves
in a situation of separation. I was flying home to Connecticut for the week; he
was driving home to Atascadero. He dropped me at the airport where we embraced for
far too long spewing out some bull shit about how we’d miss each other “sooo” much, and then went our separate
ways. I remember being genuinely sad to
be leaving him for a week.
We texted obsessively the first couple days, I was convinced
we were soul mates and I was going through crazy relationship withdrawals. Then
I took the train into New York City for a Metropolitan Museum of Art day. The
MET was my second home growing up and is still my sanctuary. If I got the green
light to choose my bed and move in, I’d do it in a heartbeat; and I know
exactly which bed I’d choose-the one with the little cherubs hanging on the ceiling,
in the renaissance wing of the museum.
I spent many days in my teen-hood at the MET and got to know
a handful of the guards and other staff members. One such guard was Steven. He
deserves his own blog entry, which will come eventually, but let’s just say
Mike clearly was not my soul mate, which I learned when I ran into Steven. After chatting with him for what felt like 10
hours (I think it was really 3 hours) I had forgotten all about Mike and was
back to my non-relationship-flirty self.
When I returned to Santa Barbara a few days later, I had
tasted single life again and was ready to embrace it in full. Mike picked me up
at the airport, like a good boyfriend, telling me about the fun day he had
planned for us. It was Easter Sunday and some friends were throwing a huge
party that involved everyone bringing a food item that reminded them of their
childhood Easter celebrations. I’m Jewish so I brought alcohol.
One of the dishes was something Lamb. I had never tried
Lamb. Not for any religious reasons, it just never interested me, plus I always
found Lambs to be rather cute. I was assured that I would like it, and was told
I only had to try one bite. I did not like it.
As it turns out I’m
also allergic to Lamb. Within half an hour of eating it, I broke out into a
cold sweat; I got dizzy and felt as though my stomach was going to burn out of
my body. I stopped drinking when the room began to spin-which was from the allergic
reaction, not the beer I’d had earlier. When Mike saw how ill I looked, he
assumed I’d partied too hard and suggested going home. Naturally when we
returned home my house was throwing a party, so there was no way I’d get rest
there, so he suggested driving to his house.
I was sober, but sick, and volunteered to drive his massive
pick-up truck because he was way too drunk to be driving. Holiday’s in Isla
Vista mean hundreds of drunken people in the street and tons of cops wandering
around on foot. The cops stopped us the second we tried to back out of my driveway.
I explained that I was sober, but sick with a fever and was driving my
boyfriend’s truck for the first time, to downtown where there was no partying,
so I could sleep. Looking back, the cops should have made us call a cab.
Instead, they directed us out of Isla Vista safely.
When we got to Mike’s, he tried getting all sexual with me,
but I had a fucking fever and was not having any of it. I felt like crap and
wanted to curl into a ball and sleep. He
kept trying and I told him to leave me alone, locking him out of his own
bedroom. At one point I did allow him back in to sleep, making him promise he’d
let up on the sexual crap. In the morning, my roommate picked me up from his
house. I felt much better, the allergic reaction had subsided, although I did
feel a little weak. Needless to say, Mike and I were done, although never
verbally said “we’re breaking up” it was implied with the door slam in the
morning.
What did I learn from the situation? When trying to end a relationship,
eat something you are allergic to. This gives you an excuse to be as bitchy as
you want. Also, I’m allergic to Lamb.
