Fling

This is a story that I was trying to show the influence of college on innocent people.

Virginal Fling
2-16-10

After drinking a little and then taking care of an angry drunk, I was desperate for company. His text was an invitation I couldn't refuse, even if it could only mean one thing at two-thirty in the morning. After dropping off my best friend, a drunk with an attitude, at his dorm, I decided to take a chance on desire and head over.

Before you judge me for it, you must realize two things. First of all, it had been a really long time since I had been with anybody. And my last relationship was long and awful. I was lonely and in need of someone. Secondly, we didn't have sex. It was a night full of passion, but it didn't lead anywhere near sex. We were both under the influence of alcohol, but coherent enough to make reasonable decisions.

I walked into his dorm while a group of guys were walking in, drunk and rambunctious. I met him in the stairwell and he took me up to his room. It was small, but comfortable enough. I took off my coat and shoes, then sat on his bed.

“Sorry it's kind of small.” He sat down at the head of the bed and faced me. “So how are you?” he asked innocently.

“I'm stressed,” I said, sighing. “My best friend is angry at the world for not hooking up with anyone tonight, and there's nothing I can do to help him.”

“He'll get over it in the morning. He's just a guy with hormones, raging from alcohol.”

“Are all guys horny when they're drunk.”

“If they're not, they're lying.” His smile said it all, and there was really nothing left to say. His fingers that had been lightly stroking my knee wrapped around my waist and pulled me into him. Our mouths connected and passion blazed.

It all happened so quickly, from an innocent conversation. I'd never hooked up with a guy before, and perhaps I never will again. This moment, though, resonated with me. His soft touch, his desperation, and his mystique kept me wanting more. I felt like I could be free around him because I didn't know him.

I had met him a week before this event, at a party thrown by a small group of coworkers. Someone I barely knew brought him to the party, and we drank together through a game of Kings. He was one of three Matts at the party, and I really didn't pay attention to him at all. After the card game, we danced together, our bodies fitting perfectly together in rhythm. I didn't see him go, but I thought of him the next day.

Later that week, we found each other on Facebook. Surprisingly, and yet not so much, we were already friends. We must have met briefly, or perhaps friended through others. We talked for about an hour before he gave me his number, telling me to text him if I wanted to hang out. It was really very innocent. I thought he was cute and sweet. I really didn't think we had anything more to say to each other, but then I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

I've only ever had one relationship before. Back when I was 15, a sophomore in high school, I started dating the perfect boy. It was more of a growing friendship than a relationship- we didn't even kiss until we had dated for four months. Before then, I had been scared of relationships, boys, and sex. The idea of giving my heart away to someone never appealed to me. After a year of him chasing me, I finally gave into fear. He seemed to understand, though, and took care of me. He comforted my fears, and I fell in love.

The problems came when he graduated a year earlier than I and became a college guy. The alcohol and the distance, as well as our busy schedules, separated us into something irreparable. After dating for three and a half years, he finally broke up with me, stating simply that he “wanted to see other girls” and “not be in one relationship his whole life.” He had changed, and he was ready for someone who fit the new him.

I was really hurt. I spent the better part of my teenage years loving him, letting my heart go for him. It had taken so much courage on my part to let someone else in, and it was all wasted. I haven't seen him since, and I doubt he cares.

Falling in love is a remarkable thing. It seems like some people fall in love so easily, giving their hearts to everyone they know. Others take years before realizing the flame that burns deep within. It had been a long time since I felt any sort of passion for someone. At the start of the new year, I finally began to open my heart to possibilities. Since then, it seems like every boy that passes is a possible candidate for love. Either his hair catches my eye, or a smirk in passing stops me in my tracks. Guys have a funny way of knowing exactly how to pull at your heart, and it's interesting to watch, let alone feel.

I spent the rest of the week thinking about this boy, though he wasn't the only one on my mind. There were plenty of others I was interested in. I took one of them sledding when the snow got deep. He was cute, but that seemed to be it. While he teased me, he couldn't really hold conversation, though it was just sledding, which is more action than words. There was another boy, from work, who caught my attention a while back. We never hung out, but we laughed together at work, and it caused sparks to fly around me.

By Friday night, I was desperate. I needed someone's attention, even if it came from this boy I didn't know. I texted him first, asking him innocent things such as what classes he was taking, what his thesis was about, and what he was doing that night. I really had no intentions of inviting him over, but by the end of our conversation, it just seemed right. Around 11:30 that night, he came over with his laptop full of movies. With some technology unfamiliar to me, he connected it to the TV and we watched 500 Days of Summer.

Instead of watching the movie, we began to talk. I can't remember what we talked about, nor is it really important, except that it distracted me from the movie and made him much more interesting. I could tell very easily that he wanted to do more than talk, but I had never rushed into anything before, so I stayed distant from him. When conversation finally died, I turned my attention to the movie instead of him, and asked what was going on.

My roommates came home early that night from a dance. The sexual tension that was building died instantly. He almost looked like he was going to leave rather than finish the movie.

“Would you rather we watch this movie at his place?” I asked, more for his sake than theirs. “Are you guys going to sleep?”

“I think we're going to be up for a while. What are you watching?”

“500 Days of Summer. I'm not really sure what's going on, though.” I could see

Emily came over to the bed and sat down with us. “I love this movie!”

“Emily, Kristin, this is Matt.” I decided an introduction might be necessary, though the looks from both Emily and Kristin meant I would have some explaining to do later. They were both intrigued and interested- I've never had a guy over before. Kristin left to go do homework in another room.

Emily and I talked for a lot of the movie, mostly because she had been rejected that night by a guy who held her heart. To keep Matt interested, I started to rub my forefinger on a patch of skin that peeped its way between his shirt and his pants. In turn, he did the same thing to me. Again, it really was all innocent.

The ending of the movie was really sad, and he commented on it by saying, “I can't believe how she treated him.”

“I think it makes sense,” I responded, though I missed most of the movie. “She wasn't in love with him, and she told him so in the beginning.”

“But he fell in love with her and she just broke his heart.”

“He should have known it wasn't going to last.” Somehow my arguments made no sense, because I had only been in the position of the guy, not the girl.

“She was still a b***h to him.”

“She treated him like a guy. If it was the other way around, you wouldn't be sympathizing with her.”

“I definitely would. I'm a romantic.” This comment turned our playfulness into holding hands.

After he left, Emily hounded me. Did I like him, how did I meet him, what about all the other guys I liked.

“I really can't tell you. I don't like him like other guys. But he seems to like me.”

“Are you going to see each other again?”

“I'm really not sure.”

It was interesting, because I really didn't like him. We didn't have that much in common, I had just met him, and I didn't know what I wanted. I really think the only thing that attracted me to him was the ease at which I could get him. Most guys seem untouchable. At least, the guys I liked were. By lowering my standards, I was able to feel something for a little bit.

It was funny how romantic he seemed in the beginning, because after the Saturday night hookup, he stopped talking to me. I texted him frequently the following week, but he never answered with enthusiasm like he did before that night. When we ran into each other that Wednesday, it was awkward. After that, I never saw him again.

I wasn't disappointed that I never saw him, but I was mad at myself for letting things go too far. I was supposed to be the innocent one. I let my emotions get control of me. I missed being loved so much that I mistook this guy's intentions as romantic and our relationship as potential. In the end, he got want he wanted, and I got what I deserved.

Author's Note

This story was combined with another story I wrote, called Late Perfectionist, to make a story I called Conformity. I'm still working on that story, so look for it when it gets posted.

Reviews

[Rogelio Chavez]

Good story. Good story

[WriterMe]

Wow this was very nice. Very true and I guess you could say the message came across very well. Favorite =]