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By: Jess Their whole relationship was an enigma to him. Could he call them friends? Well, they were sort of… That is, they were when he had time to be, and she inclined him enough to let him be. And anything more than that… Ditto. Any benefits here? Or as the guys asked him not so subtly, and in more vulgar terms, were the two of them fuck buddies? Well…to say it, as she said it time and time again when even the smallest hint that they’d go there would come up, he only wished she’d screw him. She liked to claim that she de-virginized him, so to speak. Being that she had been the first girl that he hadn’t been related to that had slept in his bed with him, without doing anything remotely sexual the entire time. Not to say he hadn’t come close though since then. Well… as close as a guy in his position, and with a girl like she was, would let him get. So, yeah, the two of them had an interesting dynamic. He didn’t really question it all that often though, because he had enough complexities in his life without even trying to contemplate another one. Besides, it was working out just fine. Or so he thought. She knew what she was feeling and what they were encountering together wasn’t so cut and dry. Deep down, she knew that he knew it too. And the truth was he did. He knew that it had always been something with her, somehow. By the way he’d think about her just too much, and for no reason at all. Or how it was so hard to say good-bye. Even the fact that he never missed anyone else like the way he missed her. There were plenty of reasons why it was like it was, but he just chose to ignore every single one. He didn’t want to think about it, even though, he certainly was, almost all of the time. The reality of it all came crashing down, one night. It came spilling out of him when he was drunk. Very. Drunk. Had to have been, because he wouldn’t have screwed up their perfect no strings attached relationship otherwise. He hadn’t seen her for weeks, but she’d finally gotten some time off to see him. And boy did he see her… They were at a bar, much like when they had first met. And when he first laid eyes on her he didn’t just have one thought, he had many zooming through his mind. All of which could not be spoken out loud. His mother didn’t raise him that way. And thank goodness he didn’t actually say them. He would have been slapped. What he did manage to say however, didn’t even come close to any of those many, many, many, thoughts still flying at a rapid speed all around in his brain. “Shit.” And then came the drink. And another. One more. Another. One more after that, and the next, and the next, until he stopped thinking about how many drinks it was exactly he had, and just trying to not think at all. In that one instance, realization had hit, and denial was no longer an option. Part
Three: Inebriated Possibilities
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