His touch this time was soft, and the way he was facing me showed that I had his attention, but it wasn’t a prelude to anything.
“So this is what I think,” Damon said. “I know how it feels, when you have sex with someone, and then one of you is an ass, and drops off the face of the earth.”
His fingers moved, absently, touching more of my knee as he tried to form his thought.
“It’s like a bad breakup, right?” he continued. “Except there was never a relationship. They both agreed to hooking up, but the other person thought it would lead to something more.”
“What are you…?”
“That person, as I was saying, that person who feels abandoned after, usually they don’t have sex all that much.”
Oh. I saw where he was going with this. Because I had done this before. Slept with someone, and been perfectly fine with not getting into a relationship or marrying him after.
“Are you saying, why would a slut be this hurt over that small thing?”
It was a joke, something I had a vague memory of saying before, in a different context, to a good friend. But as soon as I said it now, in Damon’s bedroom, it felt different. Like the room was smaller, and my voice was louder, and the person listening to me stiffened visibly and angrily. Not angry at me, because what immediately came over his eyes was...was he sorry for me? Shit that was worse.
“No. Fuck, that’s not what I said. Andrea.”
Our eyes met and I almost wanted to laugh it off, but he looked like he wouldn’t let me. “I didn’t mean it that way,” I said.
I felt a draft of cool air between us and it was because Damon had leaned back, away from me. Not that I saw it, because I was trying so hard not to look at him. Please, not the pity.
“Andrea.” His voice was low, softer, inexplicably sexier. “Is that what you think happened?”
No. I don’t think that’s what happened. I don’t think that the only time I fell in love I was rejected is punishment for being a slut.
I don’t think I’m a slut. At least, I’m less slutty than virgins who dangle sex as the reward for putting a ring on it.
Trading sex for a piece of paper giving me half a guy’s property and money is worse, right?
Because why in turn would I give someone half of my everything for only that reason?
I should decide to love someone for more than that.
I couldn’t process all this with him. It was late, and we had work in the morning, and...surely I had other people I could confide in.
“Hey.” He placed a kiss on my forehead. “You okay?”
I cleared my throat. “Your original question. What I like about him. I’ll answer that.”
“Sure.”
“I know Thad. He was real to me. I enjoyed his company, and I’ve known him so long that I thought I could be exactly myself with him. You know what I mean?”
Damon nodded. “How did you meet the guys you slept with?”
“Dates. Friends of friends, usually. Or I see someone cute and introduce myself to him, or find a way to be introduced.”
“You thought Thad wouldn’t be an asshole, once you had sex.”
“Yeah. Look, you can make the argument that he still isn’t. He did end it because he didn’t want me to change for him, and all that nonsense.”
“Stop defending the dick. Not here, not with me. Does he have a virgin bride fixation?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Maybe he wouldn’t have told you, if he knew you were already sexually active. Some guys only want to marry virgins.”
I smirked. “Oh, really? Everyone knows that.”
“You think he’s the type then?”
Damon wasn’t being snarky for the sake of it. He was waiting for my answer, daring me to defend Thad, and as I thought back through ten years of friendship, I realized that I had no clear memory of a conversation that would confirm his position on this. We often discussed sex. I knew he was doing it, and he knew I was. He wore condoms but didn’t like them. I was on the pill for a stretch of a few years, and we talked about that, like if it was better if I just got the shot, since I would be so busy at work and forget to take the daily dose sometimes. He knew I’d have the baby if I got knocked up. I knew he’d had a pregnancy scare with an ex and walked like a ghost for three days until it was confirmed that he wasn’t going to be a dad at twenty-one.
Did I ever ask him if he preferred to marry a virgin?
Did I just not want to know the answer?
“I know a guy who hooked up with women constantly, and convinced himself he was doing this for his future wife,” Damon was saying. “Messed up dude. Every new hookup was ‘research’ so he’d know how to please a woman.”
“And does he know how to, by now?”
“There’s no answer to that, because he’s full of shit. Sex is what you make it. You can have a more meaningful moment with your hand than with an actual person.” He was going to say more, but stopped right there. “But you already know that.”
I nodded. “I like that you didn’t say that the ass was the guy.”
“I did?”
“You said ‘one of you’—you didn’t say that the guy became an ass and suddenly disappeared. That’s fair, because I’ve done that to other people. I hate it when people tell me it’s a guy thing to do because it’s just a me thing. I don’t like to cling. I don’t know why with Thad it’s different. His reaction and what he did really hurt me, when I had all the experience to prepare myself for it.” When I breathed in, and tried to summon some kind of courage or epiphany, all I got was air and the smell of my shampoo and his. “I don’t know how to explain it, Damon.”
I saw him shrug and lie back, into the spot that had become his since I started sleeping over. His hair flattened into his pillow, but this was all entertaining. It was easy to watch him even with the lights off because NV Park was in the middle of a business district, and the lights outside were always on.
“Why didn’t you just give up on her?” I asked. “It’s been two years and a lot of rejections.”
Damon laughed. “How do you know I haven’t already done that?”
Given up on her? Just because he was with me now? Sorry if I didn’t believe that. “You don’t have to say those things just because I’m here.”
“I’m not saying them just because—” Damon sighed, “Fine. The truth? Two years isn’t so long. When other people point it out, I think, so what? When I didn’t want to pursue her, I...didn’t think about her. I went out with other people. It doesn’t feel that long a time.”
“But it’s also a lot of rejections.”
He shook his head. “It’s part of the game. Even my frustration, when I think I’ve got her and she pulls back again. That’s all part of it.”
I remembered one of my first impressions of him—that he didn’t “work himself up” to the top tier. It took a certain confidence to think you could get an Ice Princess type right away, but he had that. Of course he would have his share of rejections. I was the kind of girl who made the “first move” if I wanted to, and my success rate was hovering at fifty-fifty.
“I remember you being more frustrated about being yanked around, than this.”
“At the wedding? Because she told me that day she would share a room with me, and then she ignored me in front of our friends. I drove to Batangas thinking I’d get laid, and then she burned me. There was some stress involved. I assure you, that weekend turned out better than I thought it would.”
So he was tired from a long drive and being jerked around by the Ice Princess, and I was emotional from the groom’s speech and watching my sister have what I probably never would.
An auspicious start for us, not so much.
Damon looked at me and I wasn’t sure what he saw in my face. “I’m not going to sleep with her,” he said.
“Well, not now,” I said, snuggling into his arm. “We’re not going to fit. And I don’t like her that much.”
Chapter 9
One time I asked my mother if she believed in old and new souls. If souls did get to live more than one life, and made their way back into bodies, because mine may just be older than Julie’s.
“No,” she’d said. “Your souls are the same age, but you waited four years to get out, and you feel you have so much more to tell her.”
My mom, the awesome one.
The strange thing was, I suspected that Julie had this exact same thought, and maybe a similar conversation with her at another time. “Manang Julie” cared for people, sure, and in a totally different way. I was sure she thought she was taking care of me, and here I was so certain I was watching out for her.
When she called and wanted to meet, I invited her to the bar in my building right away. I knew the drill—Julie was an editor at this publications company and her writers didn’t like her all that much. Despite being an absolute darling and a smart cookie, my sister’s people skills were crude at best. She didn’t seem to have an instinct for boundaries, at least for other people, and she usually charged in with her good intentions, thinking that would be enough. She needed rescuing from a bad day at work often; it was why we were so close. We talked a lot.
So after work, we were drinking blended fruit juice at a table among other tables with people enjoying Happy Hour, and I thought it was because her people were giving her a hard time again. She worked a few blocks from my building and we finally got to meet after work the way we said we would, when she found out I had taken this job.
“...so it looks like I’ll be going to Sydney for the conference.” Julie was excited. “Anton’s going to try to get time off and tag along.”
“How are your bitchy writers these days?”
“Tolerable. One of them resigned last week, apparently, while I was away.”
“Sweet! So how many of them are left?”
“Just two, from the original batch,” Julie said. “I might outlast them after all.”
“I told you! Hang in there and let them drown in their bitterness, one by one.”
Her smile was tight, because she always was uncomfortable with my position that she make life hell for her work haters. “And you’re doing okay here?”
“Well, your story just reminded me that I should do my thing and be sparkly, friendly girl at work again.”
“What, you didn’t do that as soon as you started?”
I shook my head. “They had me working right away! I’m brainstorming for daily tweets for a lemon wafer cookie company, Julie. That drains me dry at the end of the every day.” It was half a joke, but my sister knew I liked to pretend that my job was harder than it was. “So what’s it like, being married? Are you still having sex like bunnies, or is it boring now because you kind of have to?”
From the way my sister’s eyes lit up, and how her skin flushed a deep red, I was glad that whatever brought this emergency post-work meeting on, it wasn’t the marriage. Those two seemed to be doing fine.
“So crass,” she said. “But marriage is...it’s a lot like it already was though. Maybe because it’s so new? We haven’t changed our routine so much, except that he doesn’t have to drive me home anymore.”
“Which saves him an hour and a half trip every day! Marriage is so practical that way.”
Julie eyed me, like she was being careful. “Your attitude seems to have changed? You’re joking about it now, at least.”
“I always joke about you and your boyfriend, silly.”
“No. Marriage.”
Crap! This is about me! I sighed. “Do you want to do this now?”
“I waited a long time for you to be ready, Andrea. I didn’t mind it when you didn’t want to be involved in anything about the wedding, but I’m ready for the explanation now, if you are.”
I looked at my orange and kale blended juice and took a huge gulp.
And then I told her.
Thad, the lost weekend, Damon at the wedding.
“But you’re still seeing him,” she said.
“Well, you’ve seen Damon,” I said flippantly. “Not ready to let go of that.”
Julie sighed. “Whatever, Joker. I’ve heard things about him, but I thought, nothing my sister can’t handle, right? And then you tell me about Thad and I wonder…”
“Stop.”
“You can’t stop me from thinking you’re going to a bad place with this.”
“I still have more experience with men.”
“You loved Thad. You don’t do that. And from the looks of it, you loved him so much and only admitted it recently. This I outrank you on, admit it.”
“His rejection doesn’t have to ruin my life. I’ll treat him just like any other guy.”
“Have you been in touch lately?”
We hadn’t gotten to this part yet. “Yeah. He...wants to be friends again.”
“Do you even want to be friends with him?”
“I have to, because my other friends don’t know why I stopped hanging out with them. And I miss them. It’s not fair that he gets them and his wife gets them too.”
“So you’ve actually seen him? Again?”
I nodded. “Yeah. The other night. I mean, it shouldn’t be about him, but I had such a nice time with the others. I hate that I have to think about avoiding them because Thad or Naomi might be there.”
Julie sipped her juice thoughtfully. “I didn’t like Anton’s friends.”
“I know. You had your bubble.”
“Yeah, but...I eventually got over it. Some people are just in this world, you know? Even if I don’t like them. “
“Well,” I said, smiling as I arched my back. “He’s seen me with Damon, so at least there’s that.”
“Oh my god. You dangled your new guy in front of him?”
“I can handle it.”
“You think parading Damon around to get over Thad is ‘handling it’?”
“Damon doesn’t mind! He’s using me the exact same way!”
Saying that aloud made me laugh, but Julie’s eyes rolled up into her head. Because she didn’t have the same sick sense of humor. “Oh my god.”
“Come on.”
“Andrea, you two are sick.”
“You’re such a manang!”
“Don’t make it about me being a manang. You’ve already slept with him.” Julie’s fingers counted off my sins. “You’ve already rubbed that fact in Thad’s face. You’re all right with being part of Geraldine and Damon’s game?”
I forgot that she knew Geraldine, through Anton. Knew her well enough to have included her in the wedding guest list. Seen firsthand the flirtation and “game” that Damon very recently said wasn’t that big a deal.
“I can handle it,” I said.
Julie did not believe me; I could see it in how her face scrunched up. “If you like him and seriously continue to see him, she will be in your life too. Figure out what that means for you first.”
“She doesn’t have to be.”
“Oh, I disagree, dear sister. You could have dumped your one-night stand by now, but you didn’t. Now you have to deal with all of this other crap about him that might make you uncomfortable. You’ve never had to do that with anybody.”
“You’re deliberately twisting what I’ve told you.” How did…? Only Julie would have listened to my hookup story and concluded that I was now in a relationship.
“Have I? Look...call it whatever you want, but if you’re doing this, you can’t avoid Geraldine forever. She’s there. Learn how to deal with that.”
***
Did Julie just tell me to cyberstalk Geraldine? No? Because that’s what I decided to do anyway.
I would have cleaned up my language and said “looked her up” or “checked her social media” but I’m not even going to—that lady knew she would be watched. Maybe she even wanted it. She had several accounts, all public, all featuring flattering photos of herself. Her online image was expertly curated, precisely to control what other people would think of her, w
hen they looked her up.
It was, well, kind of badass.
This was what Damon was dealing with, I realized. She was perfect. All the time. Instagram posts in the morning of gentle sunlight against her sleepy face. Tagged in group photos on Facebook, and she looked like she was at work, power-dressed and porcelain. Her Twitter seemed dormant, the latest item a months-old retweet of a plane fare sale without any added commentary. But the profile picture was a studio shot, cropped to reveal only half her face and a bare shoulder. Gorgeous.
I’m not the type who won’t say it, so I will: Damon picked someone who was probably the president of the Ice Princesses. She was top level. She liked clothes, shoes, posted pictures of expensive, sophisticated bags she was “saving up for.” Never posted photos of herself with a date; a sign she was single and I don’t think you’re ready for this. Some of the selfies were extreme close-ups of great skin, plump lips, enviable shades of lipstick.
The only reason why I wasn’t as impressed was because of the circumstances surrounding how I met her, Damon telling me his frustrations about her, and probably because in person some of that mystique was missing.
But Geraldine had the stuff and she knew how to use it. I recognize and respect that in people.
Julie tried to hide from Anton’s friends for as long as she could. But she was a homebody, and she didn’t feel the same way about these people as I did. My people. Looked like I would miss out on some entertainment, if I did the same thing.
This reminded me that I had been at this job two weeks and hadn’t yet made an effort to fit in, socially. I was working with eight other copywriters and one creative director. So far, and because of how modern/open/hipster our workspace was, I barely saw them. We were encouraged to use any space in the office to do work, and most of them chose to work at home, sometimes in the park across the street, coffee shops, crazy stuff like that. I only saw the whole team together during the meetings we had twice a week.
There was going to be one today, so I called a donut and coffee place nearby. Food and coffee, was how you became friends with anyone, I learned.
What You Wanted Page 5
