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notsopeacefulI went to see Keith after work on Friday. Not because I missed him or I was ready to see him, but because I wanted to scare the hell out of him.
We didn't use a condom. It was stupid, I know, I'm a teenage AIDS activist and I feel like a fraud and a traitor and everything else. I don't have an excuse. I got lucky. I was mad at myself and I went to take it out on him. I wanted to just show up like something from a soap opera or a movie. I was just going to wait for him and say, "I'm not pregnant," and storm off.
That didn't happen. When I stormed off it was because he told me he had a date. I don't know what he did before we met, but it was probably the first one he had since he moved here from L.A. and I was mad and hurt and jealous. He wasn't supposed to have plans on a Friday night - not plans that didn't involve me, anyway. I think I realized I missed him then, even if I didn't understand that until I had my third or fourth shot of tequila in Eric's basement.
I drove back to Keith's. I remember talking and I remember telling him I hadn't smoked any pot, but I don't remember if that was true. I woke up on his couch with a hangover and a bad mood, so I picked a fight with him while he tried to feed my coffee, Tylenol, and Eggo waffles.
All of which I threw up.
Somehow, that fixed things.
We didn't use a condom. It was stupid, I know, I'm a teenage AIDS activist and I feel like a fraud and a traitor and everything else. I don't have an excuse. I got lucky. I was mad at myself and I went to take it out on him. I wanted to just show up like something from a soap opera or a movie. I was just going to wait for him and say, "I'm not pregnant," and storm off.
That didn't happen. When I stormed off it was because he told me he had a date. I don't know what he did before we met, but it was probably the first one he had since he moved here from L.A. and I was mad and hurt and jealous. He wasn't supposed to have plans on a Friday night - not plans that didn't involve me, anyway. I think I realized I missed him then, even if I didn't understand that until I had my third or fourth shot of tequila in Eric's basement.
I drove back to Keith's. I remember talking and I remember telling him I hadn't smoked any pot, but I don't remember if that was true. I woke up on his couch with a hangover and a bad mood, so I picked a fight with him while he tried to feed my coffee, Tylenol, and Eggo waffles.
All of which I threw up.
Somehow, that fixed things.
