Homewrecker

I have to fight someone today.

The time and place has been set. 4 p.m. Behind the old Winn-Dixie. No weapons. We each bring one friend to supervise, no more no less. Nothing dirty. We go until one of us can’t go anymore.

A good old-fashioned bareknuckle dust up.

I’m not looking forward to it, but I have no choice. I have wronged another man, and now I have to make amends.

My rival is beside himself and for good reason I guess. I have a much more eloquent approach to the situation, which means I’ll probably get my ass beat since his blood is running white hot. He will approach me with rage and drumming fists.

I’ll shrug my shoulders.

I hope I don’t lose any teeth. A black eye might look kind of cool though.

I’ve known this girl for years. We consider ourselves friends, although I don’t remember ever hanging out with her. We always tell each other we miss them if it’s been awhile.

You know those people who are friends with people on your furthest ring of friends? You see them around. Go to the same parties and share some laughs. Tell each other you should get together sometime but it never happens. You genuinely like them and they like you, but you run in different circles and have different schedules so nothing ever materializes. She’s one of them.

I run into her four times a year tops, counting the other night.

The party was slow, probably because it was thrown on a Wednesday. No bullshit. A Wednesday.

“When should we throw our party? This weekend? No. No? No. Wednesday? YES!!!” Poor planning. Inexcusable. Jobs motherfucker. We have them.

She was sitting across the room. The party was full of couples so she stood out from the beginning. She was also in a relationship, but the other half was missing for the night. To her, he was always missing. Her unhappiness wasn’t a huge secret. Not scarring venom, but too-casual darts if the mood swung her.

I had always felt a twinge for her, but never acted on impulse because of her relationship status. And I can be a Nancy boy at times. (If you’re scared say you’re scared!) But let’s stick with the status.

I couldn’t help but glance (stalk) at her for most of the evening. Eventually, she sat down on the couch and a circle formed around her. She was in therapy, with counselors all hovering nearby. She was doubting her relationship. She had put in a couple years and their love had reached a crescendo. They were to be married. But did they truly belong together, much less forever? Twas the rub.

Listen, if you’re vocally putting your relationship on trial in a room with more than 10 people in it, then it’s over. I think that’s a good enough sign.

I walked over to make sure the venting didn’t get out of hand. I’ve seen these situations go sideways a few times and it can sack a get-together. One moment it’s a positive, intimate vibe and the next a girl is crying hysterically in the corner and the party becomes an Up With People rally. (You go girl!)

She didn’t sound as if she were about to spill. Instead she summarized the hopelessness of her situation in a cool, tacit manner. She was going to stick it out though, because she truly loved him. Her counselors all agreed it was for the best.

The relationship was saved. Whatever.

Not long before dawn, the party began to succumb to the effects. I still hadn’t really spoken to her, perhaps a first for that. Maybe she noticed, because she found me on the way to the bathroom. After the openers…

“Hey, you heard me earlier right?” she asked. “What do you think I should do?”

This was a nightmare. I had to piss stallionstyle, plus I didn’t know her well enough to guess at what she deserved out of life. And anyway, I’m not a fan of giving relationship advice (to ladies). Most of the time the girl asking me for advice is a girl I probably wouldn’t mind being with myself, so basically I’m giving advice to the girl on how to continue not being with me but another guy instead. Seems counterproductive.

I still remember when I first met her, her smile when I introduced myself. I liked her straightaway from that moment. I had always been interested, just tempered. My feelings were genuine. She was always one of the girls I would wonder what it would be like if we were ever together. We didn’t have any real history so she had no tarnish.

This situation, I could mail it in. Say some complimentary things about the both of them, reaffirm her love for him and graciously change the subject.

Or I could tell her the truth, at least my version of it. She was going to end up marrying a man she didn’t love for no other reason than she was expected to do it. That I had always been interested in her and wondered if she ever felt the same way towards me.

I knew what to say. I knew the right answer then and I know it now. I’ve never been so sure.

I told her what I told her, then without waiting for a response went into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

SHE was in. She wanted to know all about it, what it would be like if she belonged to me. What our lives would be like if we could be together. The things we would do. How different I was from him. She came to her own conclusion before I had finished my confession. She demanded to know if my feelings were true. I realized she was actually considering it. Throwing away everything she didn’t have with him for a fresh start with me. The more we envisioned it together, the more I realized it was possible. I barely knew her fiance. I wouldn’t have to withstand the brunt of social repercussions. I was single. She could leave him and move in with me.

“You’d really be willing to do it?” she asked.

I wanted to tell her I could (maybe) love her, if only without the immediacy. Instead I told her I loved her anyway. Clumsy.

She took me in her arms gave me one of those romantic movie in the pouring rain I may never see you again kisses. Moist and mouthy. It felt righteous.

No one ever says that. It’s always, “This feels so right!” Trendsetter alert! Next time you’re naked with the one you love, just yell out “This feels so righteous!”

I’ll admit it will feel wrongeous. Being with someone and shouting out how right it feels means true love, complete and unconditional. Being with someone and shouting out how righteous it feels means you’re getting a hummer at the local drive-in thee-ate-er.

Say it. Then both of you bathe in the glow of forging new paths. We must defeat this prejudice.

This night, the kiss felt like a romantic movie. The good guy saves his damsel from her dim, selfish suitor. I was a good guy. And her fiance, well, he had to be an arrogant, undeserving asshole right?

Right?

We kissed more and she never let me go after her initial embrace. I pawed at her tit and she slapped my hand away but sue me I was into it. We talked and laughed and made loose plans to be together. She would call me in a few days and try to come see me. This was going to happen. It was overwhelming and exciting. We tugged at each other more but her ride home was on the way. The fiance. Dirty.

“Don’t be mad when I just leave,” she said.

Headlights appeared in the driveway. She left a trail of kisses up my neck to the top of my cheek, then released her arms and walked out the door. She never even looked back at me.

A few days later. She hadn’t called me. I didn’t have her phone number. I didn’t want it. I understood if she never called. How could I not? I just hoped she didn’t silently regret what had happened, but I couldn’t know for sure.

When she finally did ring, I missed the call. The voicemail said she wanted to see me. She would call again soon. I saved the number into my phone to make sure I recognized the number when she finally returned.

It had been over a week since our admissions and hearing her affirmation for me…I know it wasn’t particularly righteous, but it didn’t feel wrong either. Everyone would understand, if not now, eventually.

The phone rang. I had just woken up. It was close to noon (lazy). It was her.

Oh, shit. It was time. I was going to take one good idea as far as it would let me and the other bad ones along for the ride. I didn’t care. This girl rocked. Her true love was false (emo!).

I answered with immoral anticipation. Before I could even say hello…

“Tell me the truth. Tell me everything that happened between you two.”

Fuck. Seriously. Fuck.

Her fiance was losing his shit. He was solid in real life. He was never home because he cared for his sick father and also worked at the hospital. He saved lives, or at very least enriched them. So much for being the undeserving asshole. I spent the better part of an hour attempting to explain myself. His fiance and I were finished before we even had a chance to begin, mostly because, well, that’s the way it should’ve been. I was toast, so I at least tried to save the bride-to-be.

Unfortunately for me, she could fend for herself. In the background she wailed, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I love you sooooo much!”

She was hysterical. It didn’t matter the explanation. I was the piece of shit who took advantage of a vulnerable woman.

He was convinced we had sex. No matter how many times I explained the circumstances, he just knew the love of his life had dropped her pants for an acquaintance at a Wednesday party (the shame!). I kept fighting for her, but he wouldn’t believe me. His imagination was running wild. I could commiserate. I had been betrayed plenty of times. This wasn’t good, but in reality he didn’t know how lucky he was when it came to cheating. When I’ve been cheated on it usually involves the cock-in-mouth variety. I had only kissed his betrothed.

An apology wasn’t cutting it. He wanted to know when I was free. I assumed we would get together and hash it out over a couple drinks like fine upstanding gentlemen.

No.

He wanted a piece of me. And being the fine, upstanding gentleman I am I had no choice but to agree. A grocery store parking out throwdown? Whatever.

I made time with his best girl. I assume he has a right for vengeance. I’m not sure I have a choice.

So there it is. I can throw if I have to, but I don’t want this. And evidently this motherfucker is big. Great.

In a couple hours, I guess we’ll find out.

I’ll let you know how it goes.