Part III: Love Story [in doubt]

(Other parts: i, ii, iv, v, ivvii)

The following journal entry is sponsored by Pinterest. Pinterest: It will steal your soul. Seriously, I got so distracted by that website (as demonstrated by my 800+ pins) that I have obviously spent far more hours on that than on homework.

My GPA: *cries*

Anyway!

I was supposed to be at a no-clothes-allowed party the Friday after the events with Manny on Saturday. No, not a nude party; we could wear anything but clothes. Sherry and her roommate Sera used duct tape and garbage bags to construct their dresses. I would have gone along but I swear my medicine is a sedative. So I passed out and woke up just as the party started at ten. Sure, I had time to assemble makeshift clothing before the party ended four hours later, but instead I got distracted and spent my Friday night crocheting and talking to my neighbor Faith about boys.

My college life, it is sad.

I returned to my room from Faith’s at one in the morning. If I had decided to go to sleep right then, the second meeting with Manny wouldn’t have happened and who knows if we’d be together now. But then Manny sent me a text, jolting me awake, and that kept me busy until four-thirty. I hate that we have to rely on texts to keep us connected but I guess it’s a necessary evil.

I promise, journal, I’m not going to describe every SMS conversation we have, just this one, significant because it was our first lengthy convo over text and because of what it led to.

He had casually asked about my plans for the next day. Upon finding out that I had none, he suggested that I come visit him, adding that he would come see me if it weren’t for his job.

This conversation had a bit of a flirty edge to it, and so it made me wonder for the hundredth time what his intentions were. I reacted coolly by pointing out that he had seen me just a week ago: wouldn’t he mind seeing me two weeks in a row? Inwardly, though, I was like YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES.

He responded by telling me in such a squee-worthy way that he wanted to see me. I think I really did squee, whatever squeeing is. That was all it took for me to agree. :Db And that was how I ended up at his dorm that Saturday night.

There was a noticeable change in the air between us this time, one of cautious flirtation. We weren’t being outright flirty; it was more playful than anything, dipping our toes in the water then pulling away. Neither would wade in too deep. I still wasn’t sure if he was just playing with me. But I can’t control that — whatever kind of person he is — I like him. For example, whenever he noticed me staring at him that night, he would raise his eyebrows questioningly at me and that never failed to make me shyly avert my eyes and blush. Oh journal, why do I get so stupid around boys?

I observed that there was a curious lack of roommate in his dorm. When questioned about it, he said that Benji was visiting friends in a different state and thus would not be here with us that night.

MAYDAY. MAYDAY. NAIVE GIRL LEFT ALONE WITH POSSIBLE PLAYBOY-SLASH-SEX-GOD FOR A NIGHT. BAD BAD BAD. BEGIN IMMEDIATE EVACUATION.

Stupid me. I KNEW that Benji would be away that weekend but it must have slipped my mind. Now I would be spending the night alone with his roommate. NOT GOOD. With Benji sleeping in the same room, Manny and I had to be quiet, careful, restrained. Without Benji there… how far would Manny go?

What the heck did he want from me?

We actually weren’t alone for the night at first. Two of his friends from a nearby college — Traice from the previous entry and her suitemate — came by to join us in watching the horror flicks that later becomes a sort of ritual for us.

His behavior changed once we were graced by the girls’ company. Gone were all traces of that earlier flirtatious playfulness, almost to the point of ignoring me. Had I imagined his earlier behavior?

With these doubts and suspicions swirling in my head, I got into bed beside Manny while the girls occupied Benji’s, and the movie began.

We watched two of them (because the first one sucked) and then the girls left at 3 am. This seemed an awful lot like a repeat of last week, the way the night was heading. Mmm, but with one difference: Benji wasn’t here, meaning that his bed was free.

I wasn’t about to be so forward as to assume that I would be sleeping in Manny’s bed with him when there was another bed available. We weren’t a couple, after all. For all I knew, maybe his testosterone levels were ultra high last week and he just saw me as someone to satisfy that.

Resting against the bed of interest, I asked if he thought Benji would mind me staying in his bed. Manny, seated on his bed, said nothing, only nodded slowly. I had already removed my contacts and I am officially blind without them, so I couldn’t make out if his expression was one of disappointment or indifference. Either way, it looked like we would be sleeping apart that night.

I hopped onto the bed and sat on top of the comforter, cross-legged. Other than that, I didn’t move. I just stared at the only other person in the room, waited for him to make the first move or break the silence. My people skills are simply fantastic, are they not?

An eternity passed before Manny got off his bed. I thought he’d flick off the light and that would be it, but no. He took a few steps, paused, then decided to be direct with me, no BS, no nothing — just what had evidently been on his mind that night, and possibly every day for the past week.

“Mimi,” he said finally, expression indecipherable, “do you like me the way I like you?”

The little people in my head erupted in cheers and shouts of jubilee. So he does like me! But I got nervous all of a sudden, and when that happens I usually laugh. Which I did. How should I reply to such a direct question? I responded in the only way I know how: straightforward honesty. When I confessed about my crush on him, he just did that little laugh that I love so much. With my blurred vision, I saw him sit back down and pat the space beside him. Come here.

I turned off the light and went to join him. Lying face to face, being held in his strong arms… it was so different, so nice, if a little warm and uncomfortable because of what I was wearing (tights and a blouse tucked into a skirt). We just talked candidly for a while about ourselves, our feelings for each other, and we didn’t have to whisper because it was just us. He revealed the following things during this chat:

  1. When I got mock-angry at him for stealing my first kiss, he exclaimed that he had to do it. He needed to find out if I was really lesbian or not, which, might I add, is a TERRIBLEEE excuse. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned to him in a serious tone that I would be moving on to girls for a while. :P
  2. He didn’t like me as more than a friend at first. He began realizing his feelings for me just a few weeks earlier, I’d say as I was being discharged from the hospital.
  3. He started feeling super protective of me after the Micah incident. Apparently, after I had “rejected Micah hardcore,” Manny noticed that Micah had another girl in his bed the day after. That really pissed him off, and he couldn’t explain why. He doesn’t really speak to Micah anymore because of that.
  4. He likes me way more than I thought he did — than I thought was even possible. He thinks about me every day, and once he couldn’t focus on work because I was on his mind. AHHH how did this happen, journal?

We talked for a while before moving on to more physical things. What, we’re hormonal college kids. :Dv It was much of the same as the previous week but taken up a notch. In the midst of our activities, my blouse had somehow become untucked. It’s a really loose cotton blouse, giving Manny easy access to my bare skin.

I protested mildly, ultra aware of my squishiness, but he didn’t seem to mind our weight difference. He likes that I’m soft and huggable. So I let him slide his hands under my blouse… and then under my bra. Yes. second base already, during our second night together. I have no morals, all right?

Oh, you know the four stages in a relationship, right? There are four bases, starting with first base (making out), going through second (touching above the waist) and third (touching below the waist), and then ending with fourth base/home run (going all the way).

From now on I’ll describe our nighttime activities using bases and fruit metaphors because that’s how I do it with Sherry. (NOTE: Our codename for Manny is Mango. His roommate is Berry. Fruits. :Db) We may have hardcore sex talks but we’re still too childish to use appropriate vocabulary.

I’m not sure if this behavior is partly due to my crazy pills. It stifles my neurotic inner voice, the voice that exposes me to emotions like guilt and regret. Because of this medicine, I’ve done a lot of things that I otherwise would be too scared to do (like skip homework) because my inner voice stops me each time.

Or. Perhaps I am just a whore.

There was a lot more of first base this time. And tickling. He loves the screamy sounds I make when tortured. In the morning, I found that my lips were actually bruised from how intense the makeout sessions were. And on my neck, oh goodness, my neck. I had stopped him, giggling because it tickled, to tell him to try to not leave any marks this time. He pulled back, stared down, said “Whoops, too late now,” and continued to leave A BUNCH OF MARKS all over my neck. He’s lucky he’s beautiful.

During the week that followed, we began video chatting on ooVoo every night. (He was actually the one who convinced me to make such an account, and this was before I realized I liked him. It only took him 5 minutes to sway me when it took my friends four years to convince me to get a Facebook, what the heck.) We weren’t really chatting a whole lot; it was more him supervising me doing homework because he was the only thing keeping me awake. He admitted that he would sometimes just watch me do homework for long stretches of time. Oh.

He video-called me every day that week… except for a random Thursday. (Probably because I had fallen asleep.) When that happened, I felt disappointed that he hadn’t called me. Little did I know, as he told me later, that he HAD called me, and when I didn’t answer he got so upset that he promptly went to sleep without talking to his roommate. Mmm, I squee’d so hard at that.

All squealing aside — something had been bugging me that whole week.

What WERE we?

Our little thing, whatever it was, certainly began in a non-traditional manner. We had discussed our feelings for each other openly, but we don’t act like a couple in public, even now. We can’t see each other that often. We never went out on an official date. Were we in a relationship? A brief fling? Boyfriend/girlfriend?

The closest thing, I decided, was friends with benefits. Under normal circumstances, being friends with benefits isn’t smart. But I was willing to let it be that way because I was desperately afraid to lose him as a friend if (assuming we are a couple) we split up one day. Which I know would happen in the near future because I’m a realist, and I can see that we aren’t too compatible and we won’t last.

“OBJECTION,” chorused every close friend I had in college.

Laureen, Tangy, Mclean, Sherry, Sera, Elaina, Milen. Those seven, at least. They weren’t about to let me do this to myself. I can’t even describe their determination to help me get to the bottom of my situation, maybe because unless you’re a certified whore, it’s pretty rare for a first-year at my college to find a guy. My friends were excited FOR me. Too excited, you could say.

Lord save me, they had an organized plan.

Until next time,

~ Mimi ;P

P.S. Okay fine. There will be FIVE parts to this tale. I’m taking a theater studies class on creating a personal narrative so that means lots and lots of unneeded detail!

P.S. (pt ii) School update: Second semester is going quite smoothly, I must say. Much better than last semester. Quick points:

  1. I am lacking sleep somewhat but that’s normal.
  2. My stress levels are still relatively low, yay.
  3. Japanese is fabulous. Katakana continues to be a whore. Kanji is <3.
  4. Theater studies is like this journal in class format — lots of sharing personal info.
  5. I sincerely regret taking the 8:30 organismal biology class because I’ve been late twice. >_<
  6. The 3.5-hour bio lab isn’t as bad as it sounds. We got to wade into the campus lake to search for microorganisms for our first lab.
  7. My American studies professor is awesomeeeee. No wonder my school is known for its professors.
  8. I joined a dance group, partially because I want to get over my fear of dancing, and partially because Manny laughed hard at the thought of me dancing and I have to prove him wrong. I love it so far, surprisingly! The upperclasswomen are so patient with my total lack of dance experience and I’m only slightly terrible.
  9. If I’m not on Pinterest, I’m on 9gag. I no longer have a soul. Or a shot of getting into grad school.

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