I’ve always been the girl who her friends have a ‘thing’ for. For one reason or another, it seems that most of my guy friends have attempted to date me after years of friendship. Why? I really don’t know, but it happens a lot.
I wasn’t surprised when I found out that one of my life-long friends (more like a little brother, in all honesty) was pursuing me.
I had no idea he was interested in dating previous to an out-of-country trip for a wedding. We spent a few days absorbing more alcohol than sun in Jamaica, discussing religion, family, the newly married (and shortly thereafter divorced) couple, and just about anything that binge-drinking might provoke (yes, sex too).
I had a great time. My girlfriends repeatedly mentioned that James (the friend) had suddenly grown up and become a rather attractive man…It probably helped that we were drunk, in Jamaica, and he was topless the whole time. Hello Abs. I agreed…but didn’t think much of it. I had too much shit on my mind.
What I did notice was his sense of humor. He had matured. While they were staring at his body, I was listening to his words.
After a few days it was time to return home. I returned to my on and off again beau. He returned with blossoming feelings…for me.
As I’d randomly run into said friend, his liquid courage would lead to quotable one-liners. “I’m so smitten with you,” was the go-to line every time. I chalked his statements up to drunkenness and went on with my life. Apparently, in doing this it made me more desirable. He continued his pursuit and I continued my life. Then, my beau became a cheater, my status became single, and my feelings started to surface and quickly change.
My 25th birthday rolled around and my friends and I had a ladies night. Feeling vulnerable (having only been dumped the night before), I wanted to get this guy to give me some attention. We met him at a bar and, as last call was announced, I invited him and his friends back to my place to continue the celebration.
We got there. He made his move. Worst kiss I’ve ever had. Ever. In my entire life, I’ve never hated making out with someone as much as I hated making out with him. At one point his tongue literally came out of his mouth (it was like his jaw came off the hinges) and he licked every inch of my face.
Obviously, I was not interested in furthering our sexcapades. And thank God for that because if things would’ve progressed, he would’ve seen that I hadn’t shaved my legs for days. He was content spooning/passing out in my bed without getting in my pants. I was perfectly happy with him passing out and never having to tell him that I didn’t want his tongue touching my eyeball again (or his hands touching my hairy body).
We talked a few times after that. I’d call him; he’d answer. We’d joke. End of story. He never asked for another round of making-out, he never bought me dinner, and his one-liners vanished. Could James have been as disgusted as me by our session? Could his curiosity have died that fast?
Then, three days later, I met a man named Ike (who will become a major part of the next several posts). James hadn’t made a move. Ike was eager and he swept me off my feet. In a month’s time, Ike became my live-in boyfriend and my best friend vanished.
So why is James a part of my posts’ title?
We reconnect in a big way (1.5 years from this moment…making the grand total of pursuit time 2 years). But in order for you to understand where I am now, I need to catch you up on where we’ve been. It’s going to get ugly for a while. Stick it out. It also becomes worth it.