Saturday, February 10, 2018
A man once said to me “Never trust anything that bleeds for seven days and doesn’t die.” Of course he was referring to women. Factor my appropriate age at the time (19) and I nearly collapsed on the sidewalk, convulsing with laughter. Granted, it was a piggish thing to say, but hey, we were young. When I finally caught my breath, I slapped him a high five and snickered my way off to class.
I met up with this particular individual later in the week when he offered up yet another priceless nugget, “Love is the blood of life,” he said. After a pause he added, “And women are vampires.” Again, howls of laughter from our poker table echoed through the college snack shop. Could he have been scorned by love, burned by a woman he trusted or just jaded in general? I don’t know. I never asked. I just laughed at his sage “wisdom” while never mulling over his words, words which could have warned me, words which could have saved me a lot of heartache and sleepless nights. Foreshadowing be damned.
            It started my sophomore year at my institute of higher learning. A small, private two-year institution nestled in the plains; the student body hovered between 450 and 500 students. While it seemed small, one knew people without actually knowing them at times, yet the boundaries between cliques were often blurred. The right kind of person could slip seamlessly into each group, always feeling comfortable. I considered myself to be one of those people, with a vast realm of friends and an even bigger circle of acquaintances. Everyone knew me, which was a good thing considering I lived off campus. (Although I lived off campus, our house was right next to campus and I was actually closer to some of my classes than some of my friends.) The good thing was, I was adopted by a group of people living together, called a mod, so I was always in the loop from activities to projects.
            Sure, my dating situation was one of epic proportions, if you count zero as epic. I remained happy-go-lucky, not worried about love and relationships, always trying to have fun. Call it naïve, but I was of the mind that love found you when you least expected it to. It seemed to be a good attitude while keeping me very flexible to fish or watch sports when I needed/wanted to. Did I have a lot of experience when it came to dating? No. Very little if any. Yes, I had gone on dates. I even went out on multiple dates with the same person while in high school. Were we an item? No. Was it convenience? I don’t know but I must have been fun to flirt with, until the popular jock showed interest. Drama ensued when I neglected to ask her to go to prom with me even after I found out she was waiting for me to ask. But that was then; I was older and wiser by the time I reached college. Or so I thought.
            I think the first stage of the story started when I became friends with The Iowan. He came strolling into a class, nearly 30 minutes late with his sunglasses still on. Who is this cat who is just too cool for this class? With a more than smartass remark and a retort, The Iowan and I set off on what was to be a good friendship. He was about an inch taller than me, with hair about the same color as mine.  Soon we were hanging out for the most part and I was introduced to his roommate, Broadway. Broadway was much quieter than The Iowan and I were; more apt to sit back and listen for a while. Broadway stood short, maybe 5-8 on a good day. While Broadway had a boatload of athletic prowess, sometimes I think he was slightly sheltered. For the most part I was able to smooth the way between the boys as we embarked on many capers and adventures together, perhaps fodder for stories for later.
            It’s funny when I look back on things, because I remember both The Blonde and The Brunette at the same function, an instructional, school-sponsored country line dancing expo. The Blonde was a straight-ahead flirt, wearing her boots and doing her best to attract attention from the guys. Standing about 5-5, her long blonde hair twirled when she moved and you could tell she was trying to add an air of sexuality to the event, even though it was a school sponsored event at an institution rooted in religion. The Blonde’s brown eyes reveled in the attention she was garnering from the guys and it gave her confidence. At the time, the Blonde was running around with some girls who were, well, rather obnoxious. Loud and boisterous, they had annoyed many people on campus already, pretty early in the year for only being September.
            Also at this function was the Brunette. The Brunette was slightly taller, maybe an inch, also wearing her boots but she knew more than she was letting on about the dancing. The Brunette was there to have fun, met new people and not seduce any wayward victims. She was clad in a flannel shirt and jeans, much more conservative compared to The Blonde. Her blue eyes twinkled when she laughed as she was having a genuine good time.
            I danced with both of them as we did numerous steps through the evening. It was all about underlying sexuality with The Blonde, while The Brunette had the “girl next door” air about her. The Blonde seemed to always be sizing up everyone, measuring them against some inner chart. The Brunette wanted to add variations to the dances, a tough task for a boy with two left feet. I remember I had already met The Blonde, so at a break, I had to ask someone what The Brunette’s name was. Little did I know at the time, my life was going to be irreversibly intertwined with these two on so many different levels. Knowing what I know now, I should have run screaming into the night.

            Let’s fast forward a bit. During the early part of the fall, The Iowan had dated a psycho who was after her marriage and family degree, not just an academic degree. Around campus it was known as the Mrs. Degree. Get it?
Not even a month into everything, the girl had named their kids already.  The Iowan jumped ship like a rat on the Titanic. Talk about a serious freak outs for someone 19 years old. So The Iowan did the next best thing he thought, he moved on to date The Blonde before Thanksgiving. It was interesting because The Blonde described herself as a “country girl” and The Iowan was “her taste of city.” Why The Blonde described herself as such, I could only attribute to her horseback riding experience. She knew more about riding than I did, and was quite accomplished. Yet, for all her self-proclaimed “countryness” she had a high maintenance aura. OK, it wasn’t just an aura. The Blonde was name-brand through and through as I found out later. The Iowan and The Blonde had hit it off very well, and things were coasting along. As I began to know The Blonde more and more, I realized he was not going to satisfy her and they both knew it. During this time, The Brunette had been hanging around the mod, not overly shy in admitting she had a small crush on one of our mod-mates who was a farmer. The Brunette had a tom-boy quality about her, someone who could just be one of the guys and be as comfortable as possible.  
            Right after Christmas, The Iowan and The Blonde broke up, very amicably with both of the two remaining as friends. When I went to the airport to pick up Broadway after the Christmas holidays, I found The Brunette in tears, nearly hysterical. The Brunette could not get her car started as she had left it in long term parking over the holiday break. She was the ride for several people, arriving back to campus at the time, including her. The Brunette and I had a moment of tenderness as she clung to me, a familiar face in an unfamiliar airport. Unfortunately, car mechanics may as well be written in the dead language of Latin for me, as the only way I knew how to use tools were to be paperweights. The Brunette had just endured a scathing telephone call from her father about how she should not have left her car there for the break, yadda, yadda, yadda. However, the people she was meeting came up and told us, they had managed to get the car started. The next day, I learned the Brunette had been driving her brother’s car around (same make and model, save for the fact, it was an automatic) and she had neglected to push the clutch in to start the car. One of the guys in the mod asked me about the incident, saying that I had become The Brunette’s hero. I laughed rather hard, just saying I was in the right place at the right time. But, the boys and I also decided to not let The Brunette live it down. Ever.
            I ran into The Blonde on the dorm steps one evening and she asked me if I knew a certain cowboy. This guy was not a student at our college, in fact, he wasn’t even college age. The Blonde was still running around with these obnoxious girls, one of whom we called the Yeti. They had fallen in with a couple of local cowboys, somehow. These cowboys hung out in a trailer in the mobile home park where The Blonde was spending a lot of time, since The Blonde had a taste for cowboys and this certain guy fit the bill. Taste is too weak of word. She had an appetite for cowboys. He was a bull rider, albeit a young one, but he was a sweet talker. I had actually gone to high school with the guy, in fact, we played together when we were younger. This cowboy was a notorious womanizer. The Blonde stood on the steps above me, waiting for my answer.
            “Yeah, I know him,” I said. “We used to run around together.”
            “Well, what is he like? And please be honest.” She said.
            “Well,” I paused. “I know he has a propensity for getting girls to pay his entry fee into rodeos.”
            The Blonde stood on the stairs shocked, her face paling slightly. “I just paid his entry for a rodeo.”
            I shook my head. I couldn’t believe what I had heard. Was The Blonde that naïve? Was she that smitten with this sweet talker? We chatted a little more about this guy and I told her to be very careful, he had an ability to get women to do what he wanted. When The Blonde dated The Iowan, I had learned she had never had sex. She had fooled around with a former boyfriend back home, but it had not culminated in sex, supposedly. Looking back now, I have my doubts. I looked into The Blonde’s eyes.
            “Be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
            Within a week, The Blonde ended up sleeping with this cowboy on the floor of the trailer where he stayed. A group of us had been on the couches chatting idly when she walked by, looking very ragged, yet slightly haunted, walk-of-shame type of look. Normally, she would have stopped to say hi, but she strolled past us, and I knew right away something had happened.  No one can look like that and something had not happened. Soon after, The Blonde broke it off with the cowboy. She talked to me about the whirlwind romance while I conceded she had been stupid. Very stupid, but I didn’t tell her that. She began to distance herself from the obnoxious girls, one whom had the dubious reputation of being slightly slutty, and another whom we had decided was in fact, a Yeti. The Blonde and I began to hang out more and more, spending longer hours talking about things in general, while flirting more and more. I also found out via The Blonde, the Yeti had the hots for me.
            One afternoon, the Yeti nearly forced me to commit suicide in front of The Blonde. I was hanging out in The Blonde’s room when the Yeti stopped by. Now the Yeti, towered over me, standing 6-2 in height. She was a large girl (she made me look small) who was also socially awkward. For some reason, the Yeti brought up a bruise she had received in practice as she was a bruiser of a basketball player. All of the sudden she decided to show me this contusion. Unfortunately for me, the bruise was on her shoulder. I say it was unfortunate, because she decided she needed to lift her shirt up and nearly off to show me her bruise as things began to spill out. All she would have had to do was pull her shirt to the side, but I’m now convinced she was trying to show me her goods. Without being obvious about it, I began to look for possible escape routes, thinking the crash to the ground from the second floor actually wouldn’t be that bad. Unfortunately, I reasoned the impact with the ground wouldn’t actually kill me; it would just hospitalize me, therefore giving the Yeti a chance to visit my bedridden, broken body. The Blonde’s eyes were wide with horror from the Yeti practically disrobing in front of us. The Yeti showed me her bruise and she laughed, heading off to practice.
            The Blonde apologized profusely to me, as horrified as I at what the Yeti had just done to both of us, while I looked for bleach in which to bathe my eyes. We both found humor in the very awkward situation. Soon I was spending even more time with The Blonde, helping her with her studies if she needed it, going as far as having her sitting my lap while she studied. The Blonde began to join our little Monday night group, a conglomerate of friends who sat on the couches talking about whatever came to mind. Sometimes it was serious issues, other times it was just yapping about anything and everything. When she found out I could give a good backrub, she would come over whenever we were gathered, sit right at my feet, tilting her head and exposing her neck and shoulders for me to start rubbing. Numerous times, my backrubs had such a relaxing effect, she fell asleep, nearly drooling on my knee.
            Our friendship was growing and it seemed as if there was chemistry between the two of us. We laughed a lot when together and it always seemed that my hands were invited to rub her back whenever we were close.
            Now, while The Blonde and I were getting closer, The Iowan and The Brunette had a romance brewing. These two were spending a ton of time together. It wasn’t as if I didn’t know the Brunette well, to be honest, we were growing closer. She had pulled me aside once for what she called a “heart to heart” talk. I’m sure it was something to do with boys, but it seemed random at the time. Apparently my reputation as a listener had followed me to my school. The Brunette had joined us at our weekly poker game numerous times, even going as far as to come over to my house for penny poker nights on the weekends. The Brunette was always “just one of the guys” every time we got together.
            Often it seemed as if The Brunette was hanging out with us, when The Blonde wasn’t. The more I got to know these two females, the more I realized it was a study in contrasts. The Blonde claimed she was a country girl, yet she had a nose for name brands. She was the one who wanted to ride horses all day, but wanted to get dressed up to go out and eat. The Blonde was the one who rarely was without makeup. Sure, The Blonde was able to get dirty doing projects or yard work, she definitely was always ready to shower and clean up. Even when she lounged around, she needed to be squeaky clean.
            The Brunette was a tree-climbing tomboy. Definitely the sportier of the two, she did not foster a need for attention like The Blonde did. The Brunette even accompanied my family and I to a local park. While Broadway, The Iowan and I were playing catch, soon she joined us. After a while, we had her throwing properly.
            As The Blonde was about name brand about clothing and accessories, The Brunette was at home in her overalls or her pj/warmup pants. Rarely in makeup, The Brunette was much more low maintenance than The Blonde. And when they flirted, The Blonde was a powerful flirt, willing to make comments direct enough to make guys blush. The Brunette was definitely more subtle in her flirting. She gave off the impression of a girl having fun, not trying to seduce guys with blatant sexuality. The Brunette loved her football too.
            Despite her flirtatious ways, The Blonde always came back to me. Not per say in a manner of physical intimacy (save for my “magic” backrubs”), but definitely emotionally. She had wide range of friends (much like I did) and wasn’t afraid to partake in the party scene in light of the student lifestyle standards. The Blonde would be out with the party crowd, but somehow always found her way back our discussion groups or our poker game. She needed the attention. She craved it. Somehow, the attention justified her, in a way, I didn’t understand.
            As we spent more and more time together, hours up on hours of backrubs, I realized our chemistry had changed. Did I like her? Yes. Was I confused as to how I liked her? Yes! With all the time we spent together, deep talks and even a walk or few, I received a label no guy ever wants to hear.
            I was the Best Friend.
            She told me I was in fact her best friend after a bad day-curing, long hug. My brain stopped and rewound what the audio had just heard. Best Friend? That’s what we are? Because we have become so comfortable, the flirting has blurred the line into best friend territory? Why did this always happen to me? Oh, that’s right, because I wasn’t “dateable.” We even took a poll about dateable versus marriageable and I was voted most marriageable. I wasn’t a threat, I wasn’t a bad boy; I was just the nice guy who finished last. Dead last. Dead ass last.
            The Iowan and The Brunette were having a lot of fun, dating lightly. We got along quite well and she fit in with our circle of friends even more so than The Blonde did. She was definitely a homebody, someone who could be content to be at home on a Friday night, relaxing. She was also more spontaneous than The Blonde when it came to movie nights or dinner plans. She loved to play penny poker with us, staying up just as long as the boys did. In fact, she brought a perspective student she was hosting to the house to join an impromptu penny poker game. My parents got along famously with both of them, my father more so with The Brunette and my mother more so along with The Blonde.
            When I say The Blonde and I spent time together, I mean watching movies, walks, backrubs, sitting by each other on the couches, her hanging out at the poker games, not playing, me helping her with her studies, that sort of thing. We went out for supper a lot, because Best Friends can do that. We went horseback riding (one of her passions) a few times. We even went ice skating where it seemed as if we were a couple, without any extensive physicality. She flirted with me as she flirted with other guys, but it wasn’t quite with the same intensity as the others. She flirted with my friends, interestingly enough; I think to make me a little bit jealous. But how does a Best Friend get jealous? It’s not in the manual of how Best Friends act. Come to think of it, I never got that manual.
            I seemed to be footing the bill a lot too. I was the one paying for a lot of meals, renting the flicks, or paying admissions to the movies when we ventured to the theatres. As it went on, I wasn’t even thanked for my acts of kindness because it seemed to be expected. Sometimes, I became a little bitter because of the hours upon hours I spent working on her back, only to be repaid with a weak sauce attempt backrub on numerous occasions. In retrospect, I was being taken advantage of, only I was too stupid to know it. Had I known, the worst was yet to come, I would have bolted.
            Summer was fast approaching which meant the contact between the two of us (and all of my friends) was going to be drastically reduced. The Brunette was definitely more relaxed in the respect she would be comfortable at home all summer long, while The Blonde was apt to be at home, but always have to be moving. I knew I wouldn’t be able to talk to The Brunette as much. The Brunette and I had come to the understanding I was her Kansas-Brother-Type figure, being we were closer than her and her own brother. That we had pounded out a label to our friendship, which we both understood, was good. I was still a confidant for The Brunette in a brotherly sort of way. We were buds even with her dating The Iowan.
            Right before summer arrived; The Blonde and I had an interesting evening, along with the two other boys. The Brunette had already packed up and headed home, she had left on Thursday afternoon.  The Iowan, Broadway, myself and several others played poker all night long, continuing at the same table as people came down for breakfast. After the game the three of us decided it was going to be a good night just to hang out and watch a few movies as they were leaving in the morning.
            While watching the movies, The Blonde and another girl tried to prank us. After the first time, we realized something was going on and decided to ambush the pranksters. Watching from our darkened dining room we saw The Blonde sneaking her way over to our house. The three of us slipped out of the back door, armed with fireworks, working our way slowly to where I knew the Blonde was, behind a construction trailer.  I stopped short, when I saw one of the more obnoxious guys from their mod, lying on the ground, between the corner of the trailer and where The Blonde was. The roommates saw him as well and we conversed in whispers about those two following me around the back side of the trailer.
            I managed to sneak all the way around the trailer to find The Blonde lying on the ground surveying our darkened house. Very slowly I crept up near her prone form and with a burst of fiendish creativity; I curled my fingers into a claw, touched her back and snarled all in one motion. Instantly, she snapped into the fetal position, petrified with fear. At that point, the boys joined us, laughing at the very fitting scare I had induced. After she caught her breath, we chatted about the obnoxious guy who had been lying on the ground. The three of us walked back across campus only to find the obnoxious guy had been on campus. The Blonde became very freaked out about this, as she had been on the ground only 20 feet away from a complete stranger.
            Naturally, we three boys decided it was time to investigate. So we began to explore the darkness between my house and campus. The Blonde, who had been clinging to me after the revelation of a mysterious person, began to cling to Broadway, going as far as to holding his hand.  Now, I was hunting a shape or a shade, so I was nearly in oblivious mode as to why she’d be holding Broadway’s hand. Our hunt was unsuccessful and we retired back towards campus. She continued to cling to Broadway and her suction cup grip was confusing me. Wasn’t I the one she had been spending time with? Wasn’t I the one who spent hours upon hours rubbing her back? Why wasn’t she clinging to me? Was she interested in Broadway now when it had seemed as if she was interested in me? Those thoughts made me quite contemplative.
            She really addled my brain the following night, when she ended up crashing on my couch, using my lap as a pillow. We had been watching movies and fell asleep. When we woke up it was getting on towards dawn and she asked me to walk her back to her room. Of course I did, where a long hug was given by her to me. Yet, no kissing.  The two of us promised to talk the next day during the grad before she left for home, back to Pennsylvania.
            I saw The Blonde immediately after grad, getting introduced to her dad and giving her another long hug, telling her I would miss her. We both promised to call and talk when we could. She called me when she made it home and we talked for a bit. We talked when we could. She kept telling me she missed my hands on her back and how she was ready to be back. Again, more of the flirting. Meanwhile, I received a couple of letters from The Brunette as her situation with The Iowan seemed to be deteriorating to a just a “friends” level. Both parties seemed all right with the changes. It was just a bit odd, having had The Blonde date The Iowan, followed by The Brunette. (Again, that whole foreshadowing concept escaped me)
            The summer went like a normal summer with my summer job being extended into the fall. I had no plans to continue school (after being burned twice by two different calc profs) so I was glad to continue about my job. I knew I was going to get to see The Blonde and The Brunette quite a bit. My excitement was building to see where things would go with The Blonde. There was something between us and I believed it would surpass the Best Friends label, we had assigned to whatever we had.
            The Brunette called me about a week before school started wondering if she could come crash here before she was officially able to check into school, even going as far as to ask if she could pitch a tent in the yard.  There was absolutely no hesitation telling her to get her butt out here. She was driving her Mustang alone, (against her Dad’s wishes again) so she had wheels while on campus. My parents loved The Brunette and welcomed her here with open arms giving her free reign of one of the two couches in the living room. For me, it was a brother-sister type thing, someone who I could hang with, no strings attached. She was the same as always, bubbly and happy, despite her obvious feminine qualities; she was still incredibly content to be one of the guys. She crashed on the couch, rising early and packing up camp so she could move into her room at the first available opportunity.
            The Brunette also was aware of my attraction to The Blonde. During the previous spring and summer, The Brunette begged me to keep her up on what was happening between the two of us when she wasn’t hanging around The Iowan. Of course, due to my density or whatever you’d like to call it, there was nothing to update except for random phone conversations. The Blonde told me she was quite excited to becoming back, especially to see me.
            As The Brunette moved into her room, with her roommate from the previous year, I was still working. I knew The Blonde was arriving on the Opening Weekend Friday afternoon. Yeah, I was a nervous wreck to see The Blonde as it had been almost four months since we had seen each other. She was going to call me once she was in her room so we could see each other again. I don’t remember much of the afternoon, save for me taking a shower in record time. When the phone rang with her on the other line, I was so anxious I nearly dropped the phone after hurdling the table. 
            Having to cross campus, I had to restrain myself from scurrying to see The Blonde. I replayed the entire spring in my head resulting in a smile from ear to ear. I was excited to go to her room to see her. Would I hug her? Would she hug me? Would we kiss? Did I smell okay? Did I look all right? More questions spun around my head as I walked across campus to see The Blonde. What would happen?
            I knocked on her door. When she answered; she squealed and smothered me in a hug. She looked like she always did someone who would turn heads wherever she went and she knew it too. We talked and laughed our conversation the sort you would hear from two old friends catching up. It wasn’t 20 minutes before she plopped down in front of me, facing away, pulling her hair over her shoulder thereby offering her neck and shoulders to my hands for another one of my backrubs. I started in with her remarking, “God, I’ve missed those hands.”  I answered with how I missed her shoulders. I worked on the knots in her shoulders before she decided it was time for her to get down to supper. My rumbling stomach told me the same. Things seemed to be good and I thought everything was heading in the direction I wanted even though we were Best Friends.
            Yet, something was a little bit different.
            Life was settling down into a routine, where I would go to work at 7 a.m. and return home at 3:30, shower, eat and find my friends to hang out during most evenings.
            I knew a ton of people on campus, usually greeted with open arms to whichever mod I would enter. Broadway, who had been named resident assistant (RA) for a mod, managed to have van trouble on his return trip to grand ol’ Kansas. My former resident assistant (the Penguin) and I ran a rescue mission to Missouri to bring Broadway and his female passenger (a women’s RA) back to town in time for a seminar they were required to attend. Broadway’s van was stranded in Columbia at a mechanic. After the hectic opening weekend, Broadway decided it was time to head off to Columbia to retrieve his van, but I couldn’t accompany him. The task fell to Freeze. Freeze, who was (and still is) one of my very best friends, wasn’t in school yet, so he volunteered to head off to Missouri to pick up said van. Broadway used his connection with his former coach, now the head hoops guy to procure a college-owned vehicle to get to Columbia. Unfortunately, these two were in a pretty bad fender bender, literally bending the fender. When I heard they were in an accident after they returned to campus, I promptly called Broadway and Freeze. They were fine; the car’s front fender looked like a crumpled aluminum can. Broadway received a lot of attention from The Blonde’s RA, Oregon, after the wreck, prompting me to think, “Hey, these two could hook up.” I pitched the idea to Freeze, where it was met with surprising resistance. I was too busy wondering why I hadn’t seen The Blonde in a couple of days, to catch on as to the reason Freeze was against the idea. It turned out, HE had the hots for Oregon.
            Within a week, those Freeze and Oregon were dating.
            I became puzzled, when I went to hang out with my “Best Friend”, The Blonde, and she passed up opportunity to hang out. She was spending a ton of time with a group of Brazilians; almost flaunting she was hanging out with them, rather than with me. Come to think of it, she was going out of her way to flirt with anyone while in my presence. One of the best examples was when the group of us went to Freeze’s to watch a movie. It was The Blonde, Oregon, The Iowan, Broadway, one of The Iowan’s modmates named Grease, and me.  Grease was a cocky baseball player, one of those jackasses who flirted with anything sporting boobs, a smooth talker which seemed to work on the girls. After meeting him, I felt he was smarmy, an oily used car salesman who talked a great game. He struck me as a user, someone who would take advantage of a girl just to get some.
            It must have been a long week of work for me, as I stretched out on Freeze’s bed, mainly because it was ridiculously comfortable. The movie hadn’t started yet and Grease was in the room, trying to talk to me, sitting on a chair. I was being civil, but non committal with anything I said. The Blonde came in, spied me on the bed and promptly straddled Grease in the chair, almost as if she was taunting me. She was incredibly flirty with Grease, giggling while almost riding him. I know it was an attempt at trying to make me jealous for some reason. They continued to laugh and flirt in Freeze’s darkened room, all the while as I was lying on the bed. The Blonde was using all of her sexual charms, saying things even making Grease’s eyes widen. Grease said “I’ve never met anyone like you,” and the statement caused The Blonde to bat her lashes almost demurely. Things like that got the Blonde’s attention. Grease knew what he was doing as he “playing the game.” Broadway even said to me later, he was appalled The Blonde acted the way she did.
            I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit pissed The Blonde would do that to me. I thought she was coming with the group to spend time with me, but I was quickly learning I was wrong. As I thought more and more about this whole scenario, I began to wonder what the hell had happened. We ended up watching the movie, with The Blonde asking for a backrub from Grease. I was furious on the inside because this was the most obvious slap in the face. Why was she trying to make me jealous? Was it a case of “he’s too easy to have” or “I can have him whenever I want,” so I was just a huge insurance policy?
            It’s not fun being an insurance policy, or a fall-back plan. But that’s what I was. The only time I was granted attention was when it was just her and myself or for example, at the State Fair when The Blonde, me, Freeze and Oregon attended on a double date type of thing. The Blonde desperately tried to win a stuffed bear, however she failed. She talked the carnie into giving her the bear…by trading it for her bra. She managed to pull her bra off from under her shirt giving the carnie the undergarment. Needless to say, I was shocked at her behavior, but yet, part of me wasn’t surprised. It was the whole needing attention thing she always had going on.
            Had I known things were about to get so garbled, I would have become a monk. I could have found a monastery somewhere; I could have taken a vow of poverty and disappeared into the country.
            The Brunette was able to insert her foot into her mouth with a grace reserved for someone who was confident in themselves. She would chalk up an embarrassing moment with a flick of her curly hair allowing me to joke about it later. One night in September, The Brunette expressed interest in a new freshman guy. The guy had blended into our poker group seamlessly; able to give as good as he took. He was (and still is) a certifiable good dude and he piqued The Brunette’s fancy for a bit. She casually expressed her interest in this guy in front of her modmates when her next-door neighbor calmly informed her, they were in fact dating. Gracefully she laughed it off, but made a beeline to find me to vent/ramble about this. I nearly fell on the ground laughing as she stood in the middle of the sidewalk in her socks relaying the tale to me. It was typical of The Brunette and me, two very close friends.
            She came to me when she needed to talk or vent, going as far one night to have my baby sister check to see if I was awake because she needed to talk. The Brunette and The Iowan became embroiled in a nasty fight, culminating in vicious verbal insults being flung between them. She was livid at The Iowan while being upset she reacted the way she did. After throwing a shirt on, I met The Brunette on the porch to figure out what had happened. When I heard the story, I had to inform The Brunette of the hidden illness of the Iowan’s mother. The Iowan’s mother had just been diagnosed with cancer. He had requested Broadway and I keep the knowledge to ourselves so we gave him a wide berth as his mood was constantly sour to say the least. The Brunette, who had just stated she wouldn’t have cared if they ever talked again, reversed her field. She felt awful as we both knew she was at fault for helping provoke the fight.
            A few days later, The Brunette apologized to The Iowan. The apology smoothed things over and we could once again co-exist peacefully. So peacefully in fact, one night, The Iowan fell asleep on the couch with The Brunette at my house. When I arose to depart for work there they were, a tangle of arms and legs. I couldn’t help myself; I started laughing and laughing loudly. It was enough to wake The Brunette who sheepishly untangled herself to stand by me. She promptly tried to curtail my laughter, by doing the only thing she could, whacking me repeatedly on the side of the head. My reaction was to laugh harder.
            Things really became murky on a chilly Sunday night, sometime in the middle of October. The Brunette used the open door policy to come over and hang out all the time. I missed a sign two nights before when I hacked open my thumb with a pocket knife (even then I was a klutz) and there was genuine concern in her voice.
            The Iowan, Broadway and Freeze all came over after we had been hanging out in Oregon’s room. My folks had made a batch of hamburger cheese dip, a perfect Sunday evening food. Both the Blonde and the Brunette showed up, a study in awkwardness. Why was it awkward? Now there was competition for my attention from different locations in the room. I never noticed because I’m denser than a cinder block. We spent the evening laughing and carrying on before The Brunette summoned me to the kitchen away from everyone else.
            The Brunette popped herself up on the kitchen counter and beckoned me close by telling me she had something to share. I leaned in close as she started to whisper something as the kitchen door was wide open. The whisper turned into her lips on my neck and my ear. I did the only thing logical.
            I froze.
            I tried to process what was happening.
            Um, Sister-Type Figures aren’t supposed to be kissing my neck and my ear. Never once was this scenario ever covered in any “manual” I’d heard about. The Brunette looked me right in the eyes and told me my mom had put something in her coffee. I was skeptical as she continued to kiss my neck and my ears but was still so confused as to how I should respond. This was someone (who was very attractive) with whom I shared a very deep bond in terms of friendship but now the lines were blurring quite rapidly. To complicate matters, my friends were still in the living room carrying on. I asked her what she was doing, only to have a mysterious little smirk play across her lips. This continued for a while before she skipped back to the living room leaving me standing there as confused as possible, at a loss for words.
            I rejoined the group while The Brunette carried on as if nothing had happened. I played it off as well, until she went back to the kitchen, once again beckoning me to her lips. Willingly I joined and again she attacked my neck and my ears. This time, she actually made a coy offer to join me in my room. And being the brain damaged monkey I was, I declined, because my room was a disaster area which should have been marked by HazMat tape.  I know, smooth right? By the end of the evening I was so thoroughly confused because I had no idea there was an opportunity with The Brunette.  But now there was, yet part of me was clinging to the hope of something happening with The Blonde.  Was I attracted to The Brunette? Who wouldn’t be? Of course I was, but what would happen to this friendship which I cherished?
            Eventually, I went to bed (alone) reflecting on the events of the night. Truly, I had started to see The Brunette in a different light. But I was still very confused as to what had happened, why this was taking place now of all times. The Blonde had been treating me as an insurance policy, flaunting her friendships with a group of Brazilians (which gave me a bad feeling) and Grease. She was ready to parade herself around these guys in front of me, and barely acknowledge my presence unless we were alone or in our small group. Here was The Brunette, blaming her actions on something my mother slipped in her coffee, one of my closest friends, someone who was in fact, a sister to me. She had even gone as far as to say I was a better brother than her flesh and blood brother. Yet, she had just displayed an affinity for my neck and ears. I was truly confused.
            I did the only thing I could think of, I went on a walk with The Blonde. Hey, if I was going to be the Best Friend, I was going to get my money’s worth. Plus, I might have been a feeling little vengeful of the way I had been treated. The two of us walked around town, with her dominating most of the conversation, until she asked me what was on my mind.
            “The Brunette and I were in the kitchen last night,” I said. “We were talking quietly while the rest of you were out in the living room.”
            “Oh? What were you talking about?” She asked.
            “Nothing in particular. It was a little weird. She ended up chewing my ear off.”
            “Well you know, you can always say no and not listen.”
            “No, you don’t get it. When I say she was chewing my ear, she was really kissing my ears and neck.” The Blonde stopped in her tracks, turning to stare at me. “I’m not sure why she was doing that. I mean we’re really good friends, I’m her Kansas Brother-Type Figure.”
            “Well,” The Blonde said. “If you would have described me like a sister, I would have had to kiss you.” Really? I was convinced The Blonde only said the remark because she was now upset because my attention was elsewhere and her free ride was about to be over.  However, my stupid self still liked her a little bit.
During this time, one of my other closest friends, we’ll call him Bino, was up to his ears in adult style problems. See, he was an idiot and knocked up his girlfriend. She was about to pop, his daughter on the way. For whatever reason, it made him seem more attractive to the Blonde. Maybe it was just a game to her, (because of some deep-seated issues) but she flirted, almost relentlessly with him, culminating in a kiss. Awkward for multiple parties involved, myself included because Bino knew of my attraction to The Blonde. (Looking back, I think part of Bino’s brain wanted out of his predicament with the girlfriend. If only…, but that’s a story for another time.)
            Fall break was just around the corner and I knew The Brunette was flying home just for the break under the pretense of visiting the sister school there. I wanted her to stay because I really felt as if there could be something worth exploring. For her, it was a very cheap chance to fly home for the extended weekend.
            The Iowan had decided to hang around for the break, mostly at my house. Freeze was at school 25 miles away while Broadway was on a trip to the mountains of Colorado. The Blonde was around as well, which meant she could pay attention to me. On the Saturday night of the break, The Iowan, The Blonde, my high school junior sister and I all went ice skating. It was a foolish proposition as the last time I had been ice skating, I ended up limping for a few days. Heck, I fell while not even moving. My mind was a study in contrasts, one half ready to spend some one-on-one time with The Blonde, the other half ready for The Brunette to come back to explore what could be.
            Our ice skating adventure was once more a slap in the face by The Blonde. Granted I wasn’t very experienced on skates, but I could hold my own. I knew she was going to do her thing, spins, tucks and the like, but I figured she would at least circle the rink with me several times. No. Once we got there, she was off on her own, doing figure skating types of moves in the middle of the rink and flirting with the attendants who helped people who fell down. She was almost wallowing in the attention she was getting. My sister and The Iowan were having a fabulous flirty time. I skated by myself for a while, making my way to the other rink where a hockey game was taking place. Instead of being pissed about the lack of attention, I studied the hockey game, watching the goalies’ moves carefully. After all, I was a roller hockey goalie and wanted to improve my skills between the pipes.
            Did I mention I paid for the ice skating for The Blonde and me? Oh yeah, I did. I even shelled out the cash for our dinner after. The attention I received happened when we were in the car to and from the rink, and at supper. I reasoned I had been ignored on the ice because my skills were not as advanced as her, thereby slowing her down.  Still, I figured I could have been thrown a bone now and then. My sister and The Iowan were getting along so fabulously I began to think there could be something in the works between them. They ended up making out on the floor of our house as we watched a movie. Well, OK. More power to them. The Blonde used me as a pillow while she drifted off to sleep, most likely dreaming about the ice skating attendants.
            The extended break ended soon after with my sister and The Iowan chalking up their adventure to an act of convenience. They remained friend, which was probably for the better as my sister and Freeze had an extensive history. I was ready to see The Brunette after work but I wanted to play it cool. Just like the movies, I planned to casually meander over to her room to say hi. The rest of the plan; she was to fly into my arms breathlessly telling me how much she missed me, culminating in a passionate kiss. What a stupid, stupid plan. But hey, I’ve always been a bit of a closet romantic. Too bad it never works out as planned.
            So our paths crossed sometime in the evening. I was a bit nervous, anxious to see her, anticipating how I would respond, trying not to let the movie plan run rampant through my head. I had been waiting for this moment since the previous Sunday night. Remember, this was before cell phones, before texting was commonplace. I wanted to hear how the trip was, how home was but yet how much she missed hanging out with me. Her door was open so I popped in just like I had many times before.
            “Hey! How was the trip home?” I greeted her as I slid over to the couch in her room.
            “Boy! It was great. I miss home,” she replied. “Guess what?” Oh yeah, here it comes, I thought.
            “What?”
            “I have a boyfriend now.”
            Excuse me? What the fuck? My movie plan had dissolved faster than a snowball in the Sahara. “What?? Huh?” was all I could manage.
            “Yeah, his name is Navy because he was in the Navy. We’ve always known each other and things just kind of happened.” I don’t remember many more of the details because I was too busy trying to recover from being figuratively kicked in the nuts. Here I was, ready to try to find a new level with The Brunette, but she had returned from a four day trip with a boyfriend. I mean really. What the hell had I done? How had I screwed this up? This was a cruel prank right? This was for not inviting her down to my room a week ago. I was nearly speechless which is no mean feat for me.
            Again, I had finished dead ass last in the love life race. The Blonde didn’t want me and just like magician’s finger snap, I couldn’t have The Brunette. Instead of being mopey, rather than being furious, I chuckled weakly. This was what I had come to expect. For me, it was the norm. I was truly The World’s Greatest Friend. The Brunette and I hung out for a while before I begged off on some errand, to contemplate what was transpiring. Oh well, I thought, it’s probably better this way. Unfortunately, the saga was really only beginning.
            Things slowed down for a while, hanging out with the boys and seeing my friends on a nearly daily basis. Despite the recent events, I still spent time with both of the girls, more so with The Brunette even though she had Navy. He was back in Ol’ Virginny however. Outside of the romantic saga, trouble was brewing on the home front as the landlord of our house came back to the States unexpectedly. With his family back, they wanted their house back, a year ahead of the five year contract my parents had signed. I remember he knocked on the door one October evening when my folks were gone. He handed me a letter asking me to deliver it to Mom and Dad. I did, finding out later the contents of the letter was basically an eviction. Fortunately, my grandparents said we could stay there at their house so the process of moving was slowly evolving.
            We moved across town to my grandparents’ house during Thanksgiving weekend, exiting the house in a precision fashion. It took some work but we managed to get most of our stuff packed into their house, the garage and the storage room in the deep basement. My high school sister snagged the upstairs bedroom of the split level dwelling, with my baby sister bunking down in what was Grandma’s sewing room. It worked out because Grandma was retired but Grandpa was still selling cars in a town an hour away. He stayed there most of the time and she would stay up there with him. My bedroom became a perfect blend of a family room and the deep basement, my bed at the foot of the stairs coming from the garage. I soon realized my friends could come and go as they pleased without bugging anyone else in the house if they came in the back way.  When I went to bed, the only light left on downstairs was a black light as I deemed it “cool.”
             Not soon after we had been relocated, The Blonde made her way over for a sit down chat with yours truly. We hadn’t hung out in the way we once had, where we were inseparable friends. Part of me had minded the separation but the other (wiser) part liked having more funds readily available. Sometimes she could be straightforward if she wanted something, while other times it took a lot to pry it of her. This time it was one of the straightforwardness.
            I was stretched out face down on the couch, lazily dozing when I heard the door to the house open. For some reason, I didn’t even open my eyes or go investigate. I heard tentative footsteps coming down the first flight of stairs. Just a moment later, someone crawled on top of me. By the weight, I knew it wasn’t one of the boys so whoever it was, had to be female.
            “Are you sleeping?” She asked me, identifying her as The Blonde
            “Kinda. I was until you decided to be my blanket.”
            “Sorry about that.”
            “Yeah, I can tell you’re all broken up about it. What’s up?”
            “Nothin’. I was kinda hopin’ we could talk a little.”
            “We can, but right now, I can’t breathe with you on top of me.”  I wiggled my way onto my side and she wormed her way to curl up against me. “Well?”
            “What has happened to us?”
            “Us? Us? I’ve been here. I’m always here. You’re the one who has been out and about, with different groups of people almost not acknowledging my existence. I don’t know what I did, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t do anything.”
            She paused for a long time. “I miss hanging out with you. I miss my best friend.”
            The Blonde never offered up an explanation for her behavior but seemed truly sorry for ditching our friendship. We continued to talk with her deciding to put a renewed emphasis on our friendship to try to iron things out. I was all for trying to get back to being such good friends because I was one to have always valued my friendships, maybe more than other people. She hugged me tightly by way of apology. Things seemed right in the world.
            During this time, Broadway had become obsessed with finding a girlfriend. Broadway was a ball player, short in stature but built like a brick house from hours and hours of weight training. He had athletic talent spilling over in addition to being musically inclined. Broadway was a baseball player, a resident assistant and a member of one of the singing groups on campus. He was a tad sheltered his first year at school so The Iowan and I really pulled him out of his shell. For the most part, he was a good dude, but when it came to women was even more backwards than I was. For example, he had an ideal woman picked out, right down to height and hair color, interests, musical inclination, even saying what color of eyes she needed to have. No one could live up to his expectations so he searched long and hard. Too hard, in fact.
            He came back to school after we rescued him from his Columbia exile with the hots for Oregon. Those were quickly squashed when Freeze made his move. He moved on to having what he termed as “strong feelings” for a girl from Michigan. However, the girl from Michigan went on some religious kick, making a pact with several friends to not become involved with boys for a period over six months. The pact didn’t stop this girl from leading Broadway around by his nose, even going as far to state, “Broadway, if I could have a boyfriend you would be exactly the type of guy I’d look for.” And I thought The World’s Greatest Friend label was harsh!
            He was moping about it one evening while The Iowan, The Blonde and I were hanging out once again at our place. He was beyond frustrated after being led around and around. The Blonde, who was between my legs getting a back rub looked up at him to offer advice.
            “Broadway, sometimes all you need is a little fling. Flings can be fun and just what you need.”
            I watched him as he mulled it over. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Maybe I can just have a fling.” Not too much later he asked her to talk upstairs in private. The Blonde wasn’t thrilled about having her backrub interrupted but went anyway. The Iowan and I were wrapped up watching sports on TV. They rejoined us a short while later. The Blonde whispered to me Broadway had invited her to be his date at the school’s formal event of the Holidays in a week. She had accepted his invitation.
            As the night turned into the wee hours of the morning, everyone departed for their own beds including myself. About an hour later, the door to my lair opened. I was sleeping lightly so the unexpected sound had my full attention. In the purple glow of the black light, I saw The Blonde making her way over to the foot of my bed.
            “Are you up?” she half-whispered.
            “I am now,” I answered in full voice. “What happened?”
            The Blonde stared at me with a slightly haunted expression on her face. “Broadway-he-he kissed me.”
            I sat up. “What the hell?”
            “I don’t know. He gave me a ride back to school and he let me out. I went to hug him thanks but he leaned in and he kissed me.” She sat down on my bed. “I don’t know. He, uh, I, uh. He kissed me. I don’t know what to do.”
            “Well, I guess we’ll have to think on it.” She took my answer as an invitation to crawl into my bed with me. OK, I thought, this hasn’t happened before but we’ve sure spent time snuggled together on couches over the past year. She curled up against me when I lay back down. “Why do you think he did it? Did you give him confusing signals?”
            “Not to my knowledge. We’re friends. Just not that kind of friends.”
            “The only thing I can think of, is he took your saying that sometimes you just need a fling a bit too literally. Which we know, he can do. He’s been obsessed with the idea of a girlfriend. He must have thought when you said it, you meant for him to be the fling.”
            “It seriously creeped me out,” she said. I laughed because I knew Broadway could come off as slightly creepy.
            “Are you still going to the formal with him?” I queried.
            “Yes, I want to but I want to talk with him and establish we’re just friends.”
            “Yeah, probably a good call. Now, my question to you is, why didn’t you call me? I would have come over and picked you up.”
            “I didn’t want to wake you up.”
            “So coming into my room in the middle of the night wasn’t going to wake me?” I laughed. “The phone does work and I would have been the only one to hear it.”
            The Blonde didn’t stay the night with me. She rose saying she needed to get back to school. Being The World’s Greatest Friend I pulled on a sweatshirt and shoes to give her a lift back to campus. When we got back to the entrance, I gave her a wry look as she came across the seat to hug me.
            “Is this the point where I’m supposed to kiss you too?” I laughed again. She broke our hug and punched me in the arm by way of farewell.
            The Blonde had a talk with Broadway to reestablish the boundaries of their friendship before they attended the formal event. However, in Broadway’s mind, the message of the talk wasn’t received properly. He interpreted the chat as The Blonde saying she wanted to slow down. The Blonde thought she had clearly defined the parameters of the friendship. Broadway was a master of misinterpreting meanings, even ones spelled out for him in a literal sense.
            The event was slated for a Friday night, so The Iowan and I hung out being boys, playing Laser Tag after grabbing a bite to eat in TaTown. I never saw the boys on Saturday, so I swung over to the campus to visit friends on Sunday afternoon. My rotation of room visitations sent me to The Blonde’s second floor room. Her door was open and she was surprised, yet relieved to see me.
            “Ohmigod, I’m so glad you’re here. I was about to walk over.” She gushed.
            “OK? What’s up? How was the event?” I asked.
            “Broadway! He’s crazy. I mean we had a good time, but he’s crazy.” She went over to the door, closing it quietly. “Seriously. He’s nuts. After the event, he said he’d call me tomorrow meaning yesterday. I went out with several friends and we went to a party. He called. But he didn’t call just once. He called four times. FOUR times!”
            “He did what?”
            “Yes, I know I shouldn’t have been out drinking but we were. He still called and left for messages.”
            She jumped up from the chair to scurry to her answering machine. She pressed play and her answering machine wound to life.
            “Hey, it’s Broadway, just wanted to see what you were up to, and what if you wanted to do something later. Call me back.” Nothing harmful, just a friend calling up another friend, I saw nothing wrong with it. Nor would any sane person.    
            The machine spun the second message on the heels of the first time stamped about an hour later. “Again, it’s Broadway. I don’t know if you got my first message or if you missed it but I’m still waiting on your call. I’m in my room.” Uh, Broadway, it was slightly creepy with the tone of the message but still could be viewed as cordial.
            Once again the machine sputtered out another message, this one coming about two hours after the second one.
            “Where are you? I came to your room and no one was there. I’m still waiting for your call. Why don’t you call me back? What are you doing? It’s Broadway.” Now we were all aboard the crazy train heading down the tracks towards insanity. I didn’t think it could get worse until the fourth message played with Broadway’s nearly shouting voice, recorded at sometime after 1 a.m.
            “BLONDE! Where are you? I stood outside of your door pounding on the door. I don’t think you are home. Where are you? Why haven’t you called me? Are you ignoring me? I swear to God if you’re ignoring me…Please call me back. I’m in my room waiting. Stop by. Pick up the phone and call me back!!!”
            I stood with my mouth wide open, completely speechless. Holy crap, Broadway wasn’t just riding the crazy train. He was the damn conductor on the tracks of insanity circling around and around in the twisted depths of his mind. It was creepy enough to send a shiver down my spine. I could almost hear the crazy coming out of his eyes.
            The Blonde and I talked about a course of action on how to actually address this issue as this would make things quite awkward around the common ground of my home. She said she was now forced to have another talk with Broadway, a decision which I fully supported. I really didn’t want to become involved because this was between them, but the messages were black-hole crazy; a vortex trying desperately to swallow anything within range.
            Later the same evening, The Iowan and Broadway came over, in a rather foul mood, both of them cursing The Blonde’s existence. Broadway was still showing all of the signs of still being insane, while The Iowan was in full support mode of his former roomie. They were cussing The Blonde up one side and down the other. Freeze had been in town seeing Oregon, so he made the decision to walk into the hornet’s nest by visiting the boys, then following them over. Unfortunately, The Blonde was over as well, chatting up my sister and drawing incredibly dirty looks from the boys. The boys were also muttering under their breath with Freeze as a supporting role being he was only involved in Broadway’s side of things. Freeze was of the opinion The Blonde had wronged Broadway, an opinion I took it upon myself to change.
            We were standing in the spacious kitchen when The Iowan was about to launch into a tirade about The Blonde. Freeze was hovering on the verge of helping encourage the tirade when I looked him dead in the eye and with an overly firm nod of my head, motioned we needed to go on a soft drink run.
            As we jumped into his car, I swore so loudly I was glad the doors were closed.
            “What was that?” he asked me.
            “Dude, you have no idea. First you tell me what they told you.” He relayed the story from Broadway’s point of view, causing me to swear more. “All right, first of all, the story is skewed.”
            “What do you mean?”
            “Did he tell you he left four messages on her machine?”
            “Uh, no. How many?”
            “Four. Four messages. With the last two being completely creeper-stalker crazy.”
            “Yeah, he didn’t mention that. So The Blonde didn’t do him as dirty as he thought.”
            “Not hardly. She was out drinking so she wasn’t around. He was ‘roid-raging in his room waiting for her to call. Come to find out, she didn’t even get back to campus until really late last night.”
            “This is not good,” Freeze said
            “Uh, gee, ya think?”
            Freeze’s perspective on the events had changed to one of sidelong glances at Broadway trying to understand what was going through his red head. A day or so later, I was able to sit The Iowan down to straighten him out. The Iowan had no idea regarding the messages, the kiss or how bad Broadway had gotten his signals crossed. Despite his almost blinding loyalty to Broadway, the Iowan came around when presented with the information.
            Things seemed to be smoothed over as we headed into the Christmas holiday break. The Brunette was fairly occupied with school and her boyfriend, a guy we’ll call Navy. Still, The Brunette and I were great friends, something Navy didn’t like. In fact, the guy tried to tell her not to hang out with me from a great distance. Navy was back home on the east coast, trying to manage the relationship from afar. Laughing off his concerns, I privately wondered if he wasn’t a controlling asshat who would completely force The Brunette to shut herself off when she was at home for the upcoming holiday.
            Like a moron, I still thought I had a shot with The Blonde. I’m still not sure why  I believed it to be true, but I did. At one time, we had pretty good chemistry until the summer happened. With our renewed emphasis on our friendship, I maintained there was a chance something romantic could happen between us.
            The Blonde was going catch a ride to the airport with The Iowan, Broadway and myself. A couple of hours before the boys came over, we were talking. The Blonde was in my sister’s room, while I stood in the doorway talking to her. She told me to stand right there as she was going to change shirts. She walked to the other side of the bed to disrobe, all the while as were talking while still making eye contact using the mirror. The Blonde peeled off her shirt, as I continued to watch in the mirror wondering exactly how long it was going to take for her to realize what she was doing. (In hindsight, I think she knew exactly what she was doing.) Suddenly she stopped, as she stood there in her bra and jeans.
            “If I can see you,” she started, eyeing me in the mirror. “You can see me.”
            Laughing, I agreed. “Nice bra,” I said as she blushed. “I’ve always liked that one.” And she blushed harder. Once again, I did nothing because, dammit, I’m honorable.
 Of course, I also was trying to tread carefully as to The Brunette as there had always been a chemistry between the two of us. I wasn’t going to be the one to give in and in turn, have The Brunette screw up her relationship, no matter how I felt about Navy. We promised to talk over the break which I knew we would.
            Freeze and I were joined at the hip over the break, hanging out while catching up from the structured chaos known as the college life, well for him anyway. He was talking with Oregon on a daily basis, often on the phone in his room, as I was lounging on a couch playing video games. I talked with The Brunette a couple of times over the break, more so than I did with The Blonde.
            The break ended quickly with Freeze going back to school, as my cronies returned from their various home states. Freeze was going to be around a lot more during January because his institution had a month-long program of specific education. He was going to work at his father’s business while writing papers on the business side of things as he was a marketing/business major. It worked out fantastically for him because now he could spend time with Oregon.
            However, things on my end became even more convoluted if possible. The Brunette was still involved with Navy, yet flirting with me. (Looking back on what I know now, it was a sign. Damn those signs.) The Blonde was still fast friends with my sister, a junior in high school. At the time, my sister had a boyfriend and we’ll call him Stretch. Stretch was a pretty good dude but had a sketchy friend named Jimbob. Jimbob worked at a clothing outlet store where he was known for giving his friends tremendous discounts. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I took advantage of that discount a couple of times having gone to high school with Jimbob as he was just a couple of years younger than me.
            Jimbob caught the attention of The Blonde and soon they were “dating,” or more possibly people which just made out.  Again, this was more or less a slap in the face because Stretch, my sister and these two tried to watch a movie in what was my domain (the deep basement at my grandparents which had been converted to my room after we were had our rental contract breached by the homeowner) where my bed, dresser, desk, along with a couch and entertainment center all were. Here was The Blonde all snuggled up on essentially my couch, in my room with yet another guy. (Just what was I thinking?)  
I was not happy. In fact, I was irritated which was bordering on becoming angry. Happy-go-lucky by nature, I’ve always been one of the types who was blessed with the ability to let things roll off of my shoulders for the most part. Everyone has bad days, but mine were few and far between. However, when I was pushed to a limit, look out because I could be nasty (and still can, unfortunately).
It was getting late and all I wanted to do was go to bed. My realm was a now a love shack of two high-schoolers and The Blonde/Jimbob combo. At this point I had two options, I could crash on the couch, trying to wait them out, or I could be an a-hole by kicking them out.
            I chose the a-hole route and kicked them out of my realm. It was my bedroom after all. My sister and the Blonde glared at me to which I responded with a withering stare of doom which they couldn’t return. Surprisingly, I slept very well.
            Of course The Blonde dating Jimbob didn’t last but a couple of weeks, as Jimbob got in some serious legal trouble for allowing his friends to pillage a clothing store at which he worked. He disappeared from the fray and suddenly she was lonely, missing her “best friend,” a title I was supposed to embrace.
The Blonde must have been whining about it in some way to Oregon, because Oregon came up with the idea of her, Freeze, The Blonde, and me going to a movie on a Sunday evening at the discount theater. I was all for seeing a movie even though I knew I was footing the cheap ticket. When we piled into Freeze’s car to head to the theater, Freeze and Oregon were up front with The Blonde and me in the back. We were having a grand time, chatting about things which were occurring on campus, while giving each other grief.
Things changed once the movie started. The Blonde wouldn’t shut up, talking in a normal voice as the movie flickered across the screen. It wasn’t just a question here or there, but almost a running commentary. Freeze and I always took our movie watching somewhat serious, with an interjection or two but only so we could hear it, not broadcasting what was going on for the whole theater. Freeze was getting pissed at The Blonde’s non-stop prattling. Even I was beginning to get annoyed not just at the verbal diarrhea spewing from her mouth, but how completely rude it was to the other movie-goers. Freeze’s bottom jaw was set until he leaned towards The Blonde and told her to flat shut up.
            The look of shock on the Blonde’s face was indeed priceless. She looked at me for defense from Freeze’s harsh words, except I was nodding in agreement with him. For a few minutes she was quiet. However, she began to try to ask me somewhat whispered questions, to the point where I turned to her.
“Just watch the movie,” I whispered.
            She was stunned again. Stunned into a silence as we were able to watch the movie. I never caught what happened during the movie between Freeze and Oregon, but I know something did. He was angry with her, she was upset with him and I was more than displeased with The Blonde. We walked to the car, where Freeze and Oregon weren’t even holding hands across the parking lot, uncommon for those two to not be touching in some way, shape or form.
As we departed the parking lot, Freeze cranked up some angry acoustic rock by Days of the New, because he knew I was annoyed with The Blonde’s antics while being angry at his girlfriend. The car ride was frigid, an arctic wasteland of no conversation, just the sounds of dark, jamming rock music.
We had just made it out of the ‘Ta, when The Blonde leaned close to me. To show my displeasure, I made no movement back, I just kept staring out of the window.
“Boy, are you mad at me?” she whispered.
“Uh, yeah, I’m miffed,” I replied in a forced whisper.
            “Why?”
“Because you wouldn’t shut up. It was incessant talking during a movie in the theater. Not only was it annoying, but it was rude as hell. Not just to us, but to the other people who were trying to watch the movie. You were disrespectful to us, to me because I bought your ticket again, and to everyone in the theater.”
She couldn’t respond because my answer had caught her completely off guard, disarming any potential comeback she could muster. I happened to notice, Oregon was talking very, quietly to Freeze as they were trying to work out what had happened between them. Meanwhile, in the backseat of the Intrepid, The Blonde was having trouble processing what had happened between us. Maybe it was a culmination of all of the times, I had been expected to foot the bill, all of the times I was supposed to drop everything to pay attention to her and her exploits. Whatever it was, at the time, I think she knew she was in the wrong.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just that..” she let it trail off into the angry acoustic guitar still emanating from the speakers.
“It’s just what?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“Maybe we take our movie watching too seriously. But even then, you shouldn’t have been yapping the entire time.”
            Her way of apologizing was to snuggle right up to me and slip her hand into mine. My supposed “best friend” is now cuddled up on me and holding my hand by way of saying she was sorry. I was 20 and stupid. I called it good because she was vulnerable.
            My birthday rolled around, a milestone for me as I was turning 21, except the majority of my friends were 20, and non-drinkers. Broadway’s birthday was also the very same day so it was only natural we would have a little celebration. The Iowan, Broadway, The Blonde, The Brunette, Freeze and Oregon all gathered with my family to celebrate our birthdays. Of course, the food was good, but it was unremarkable.
There was no drinking, save for one or two shots by me. The Iowan, Broadway and the Brunette all hung around later in the evening as the Blonde scurried off catching a ride back to campus with Freeze and Oregon. Our little party of the Four Musketeers burrowed ourselves in what I was terming as the lair to watch movies. At one point, late in the evening I found myself in the kitchen again, alone with the Brunette. This time, we shared a shot of liquor, giggling quietly in the dim kitchen. She had hopped up on the counter, much like she had been months before. Again, her tone was incredibly flirty. My brain was screaming at me, as loud as it could, she was in a long distance relationship, therefore she was off limits. Yes, I had some ethics.
But maybe she didn’t.
Her lips found my neck and ear again, a very mischievous look twinkling in her blue eyes. She broke her nibbling, to joke with me about my birthday. All the while, my brain was partially screaming, “SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND.  THE BOYFRIEND WAS IN THE NAVY AND CAN PROBABLY KILL YOU.” Before things could escalate, I heard the door to the lair open, and in a flash she scurried off of the counter. The boys came up, distracting me from any potential danger. Now, I was confused. Did she, or didn’t she? What was I supposed to do? Looking back, was I supposed to be a way out for her? We retreated to the lair, and I was silently wishing the Iowan and Broadway would disintegrate into particles so the Brunette and I could continue exploring what was started in the kitchen.
            Did that happen? Of course not. The Iowan and Broadway effectively killed any chance I had with the Brunette during the rest of the evening, whether intentional or unintentional. Instead of staying the night, which I had hoped she would, she left me, with my mind saying, “Bad, Boy. She’s got a guy,” with my body screaming in Jack Nicholson-Joker-esque tones, “YOU IDIOT!”
Lying in bed alone after everyone had left, I decided to take my favorite course of action, the move I was most familiar with; taking the bull by the horns and doing exactly nothing. It was a move I had mastered, the blackest of black belts in this department. The next few days, were busy for schooling so my interaction with the Brunette was nil.
At the same time, the Blonde’s romance with JimBob had fizzled. In typical the Blonde fashion, another suitor came calling, via one of the group’s mutual friends. Our friend, Web, was a regular at the poker table, coming from a town just seven miles away, a nearly local yokel who fit right in amongst the lies we crafted at the table. Web, had a lifelong buddy, Grabs, who went to the college in their hometown. Grabs also fit in our group, wickedly smart with as much of a bawdy sense of humor when the situation demanded, but also with very good manners. I liked Grabs from the start and enjoyed when he graced the poker table with his presence. Of course, the Blonde was immediately attracted to him because he could flirt just as hard with her as she did with him.
From the start, the Blonde went out of her way to inform Grabs, of our status of best friends, so much so it began to make me raise an eyebrow. One of our poker games, I finally said to her, “He gets it, we’re best friends.” Their flirting continued as we focused on the cards, laughing like young college students were prone to do, not a care in the world. Grabs and Web were genuine good guys, even if they were both notorious flirts. If I recall correctly, Grabs came to me after the game, as I was cleaning up the lair, just him and I. He pulled me aside with grave seriousness.
            “Hey Boy, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, man, what’s up?”
“I know you and the Blonde are pretty tight..”
I cut him off with a laugh, “You mean how we’re best friends? You picked up on that, eh?” He smiled.
            “Yeah. I did. Listen, I was wondering if you’d be OK with me asking her out.”
I was puzzled. Why did he have to ask my permission with taking the Blonde out? Was he reading more into our Best Friendship than what I saw?
“Yeah! Go for it!” I responded with an enthusiastic fist bump. I liked Grabs and he could be a welcome change from the fools she had been involved with. “Take her out.”
“Thanks man.” Grabs seemed to be relieved I had no problem with the prospects of his dating the Blonde. Grabs actually continued to help me clean up a little, which again, made me like him even more. Within three days, Grabs took the Blonde on a date.
            An interesting side note happened with Web. His girlfriend of over a year, broke up with him around this time. Web took it in stride, telling me at this point he was just going to play “the game” with “the field.” Knowing what kind of flirt he was, I wished him well. During a poker game not too long after Grabs had established some dating of the Blonde, Grabs flirted incredibely hard with the Brunette. To me, it was slightly unsettling, but just a bit of a game for Web.
The Brunette, Web, the Iowan, Broadway and myself made our way to a hockey game in the ‘Ta one Friday evening after I procured cheap tickets through my dad’s work connections. Web was flirting relentlessly with the Brunette at the time, and she was flirting back a bit, but it seemed mostly harmless. There wasn’t a huge crowd at the hockey game for some reason, maybe half full so the arena had a lot of empty seats. At some point, the Brunette had wandered up towards the top of the arena, sitting by herself. I made my way up, plopping down beside her.
            “What’s up?” I asked, wondering if something was a bit wrong.
“Nothing. I just wanted to get away from Web for a little. I’m all for a little flirting but he’s non-stop.”
“Oh yeah. I guess because of the breakup, he said he was going to play the game with no restrictions and he was going to let the flirt out. I was a little worried he was going to try to just hook up with you. I think you’re fair game for his game.”
She laughed. “I’m not part of the game. I’ll flirt a little bit now and then, but he does get a bit much.”
“Yeah, he does, but he’s a good dude.”
“Let me tell you a secret.” I inclined my head and leaned closer to her mouth.
There wasn’t a secret. There weren’t even words exchanged. She began to nibble my earlobe, and my neck, in this very public place, wiping away any thoughts of Web’s flirting escapades. Once again, before things could escalate, either the Iowan, or Broadway came bounding up to us, stopping the Brunette from continuing to assault my neck. She gave me a little smirk as if I was now part of her little game. Looking back, I’m sure it was Broadway as his timing in similar situations was completely opposite of impeccable, or to put it honestly, frustrating. Broadway was sometimes clueless (granted, so was I but I knew when to vacate a situation), and he could hamper any potential fun sometimes.
For a week or so, things were in a holding pattern. The Blonde was happily dating Grabs, while the Brunette was busy studying. Broadway and the Iowan had started baseball so they were occupied trying to find a rhythm within the confines of school. I popped over to campus to visit them, along with many other people in the evenings. During this time, Bino hitched up his wife. They had a daughter together, a surprise from a whirlwind romance, and being we were homeboys (or brothers, but homeboys sounds so much cooler) I was the best man in the small wedding.
            Bino had asked my mother if they could ride from the wedding on her horse as the ceremony was western themed. My mother agreed to which the Blonde found a small role in the event. She had to ride the horse to calm him down as the equine was still pretty young so the happy couple could ride off into the proverbial sunset without the horse panicking or bolting. At the time, the Blonde was wearing one of my favorite pairs of western jeans she owned. We were outside of the church when she asked me for a leg up. I never made the connection there was anything more there except I should have as she had never asked me for a boost before. Of course I obliged and I couldn’t stop what came out of my mouth next.
            “Man, Grabs is lucky,” I said.
“Why?” She asked.
            “Because he gets to see you in those jeans and you can wear them for him. I mean, damn fine.” She blushed so hard because I never had said anything remotely close to a statement, but I couldn’t stop myself. She was twinkling as she trotted away.  The wedding seemed to go off without much of a hitch. There was some stress involved, (which is another story for another day) so all I did was fall into bed still in my wedding clothes.
I was awakened when a meteor of baseball players crashed down on me. Broadway and the Iowan had decided to come over to play penny poker. They actually took the initiative to form the game, my lair being a perfect location. After all, proper hosting means I had to be awake and to find me passed out on my bed wouldn’t do at all.
            “Get off me!” I swore at them. “Who’s coming over?”
            “Web, Grabs, The Brunette, and us three,” The Iowan answered. “Let’s get that table out so we can play down here. We even brought Spicy Nacho Doritos. How was the wedding?”
            “Draining. I’m glad you brought food.” When we were 20, Doritos were their own food group.
“Is there Dr. Pepper?”
“Should be upstairs in the kitchen. Now, seriously get off me so I can get out of the wedding clothes.”
The penny poker game was completely uneventful as we played until late in the morning. The Brunette did come over and eventually the Blonde made her way over as well. Remember, this was before the days of instant messaging and text messaging. The poker game was fun, with The Blonde shamelessly flirting with Grabs and any other male at the table, while The Brunette parked herself by me with her handy dandy rank of hands sheet. We played like we always did with the final hand coming sometime in the early morning hours. Grabs, Web and The Blonde left, soon followed by the Iowan and Broadway. I was cleaning things up, with the assistance from The Brunette, as we trekked the empty glasses and napkins up to the kitchen. When I finally slowed down, a wave of exhaustion swept over my face. It was so evident The Brunette took notice.
            “Are you OK?” She asked.
            “Yeah. I think so. It just swept over me with the wedding and everything. I was sleeping when the boys woke me to play cards.”
            “Oh no. I thought it was OK if we all came over.”
            “No, no, no. It always is and you know I’m always up for a poker game, even a penny poker game. There was just some drama I didn’t learn about until today between my grandpa and the bride’s dad. But that’s neither here nor there. I just know I feel exhausted.”
            “Go to bed and I’ll finish cleaning up.” Before I could protest, she told me to go crash. “I mean it. Go.”
            So I went. My head hit the pillow and I was nearly out, but not fully out because the light was still on as The Brunette finished the minor clean up. I was the type who needed almost complete darkness to sleep, save for the black light. The sleep which was on the horizon was deep, the kind of sleep which resembles a coma, but before I could drift off, I heard my name quietly spoken.
            “Boy?” I mumbled a response. “I don’t want to go back to my room, can I just stay here?” Instead of a spoken response, I just lifted the covers as an invitation. “OK, can I borrow a pair of your shorts to sleep in? I just have my jeans.”
            “Yeah, top drawer.” I kind of realized how tired I was as I didn’t even try to sneak a peek at her changing into my boxers. I felt her sit on my bed and I once again lifted the covers for her. She snuggled up to me, pulled my arm around her and I promptly passed out.
            Could things be simple? No. For all intents and purposes, The Brunette still had the boyfriend back home. In all of our conversations, I had quickly picked up the boyfriend hated my guts because I was a guy friend of his girlfriend. There were some serious red flags with this guy, but it was a long distance relationship of 1,800 miles. She continued to call me her Kansas-type brother figure, as she was not very close with her biological brother.
            A few days later, we had congregated in the lounge area on campus. We had “assigned” seats where we discussed all topics from flippant to serious. Broadway, The Iowan and I each had a two seat couch, with Web on the floor. If The Blonde was there, she was sitting on the floor between my legs, getting a back rub; if the Brunette was there, more often than not, she was sitting beside me.
This particular night, everyone was there, including both girls. We were laughing back and forth with The Brunette more or less leaning on me while The Blonde was getting a back rub. It was so commonplace to me, I never thought anything of the seating arrangement. The Brunette and I were sharing little secrets, with her whispering in my ear while everyone continued to carry on as 20-somethings can in a situation. All of my attention wasn’t focused on The Blonde and she wasn’t the happiest of campers. Why it mattered, I wasn’t sure as she was still dating Grabs. One of us had a brilliant idea to load up and dash down to the all-night truck stop for some late night grubbing. We piled into a couple of cars to zip down the road 10 miles for sustenance. I cannot remember who I rode with, but I do remember being at the restaurant with The Blonde on my left and the Brunette on my right, a near triangle of confusion captured on camera. The Blonde had no money so once again, I footed the bill. After all I was still wearing the title of World’s Greatest Friend. As I was paying, I saw The Brunette’s eyes narrow just a bit.
            We returned to our assigned places in the lounge area, once again with The Brunette leaning on me, The Blonde begging for a back rub and the rest of the group strewn about. At one point, The Blonde called it an evening and disappeared upstairs. Still on my arm, The Brunette leaned in, speaking softly as the other boys continued yapping about whatever was on the table for discussion material.
“You know, I don’t like the way she treats you,” The Brunette said.
“Who?” I asked, as my synapses weren’t fully firing, or maybe I wasn’t fully paying attention.
“The Blonde!”
“Oh yeah? Why not? What does she do to me you don’t like?”
“She’s taking advantage of you. She’s always making you pay, but then throwing herself at other guys. She never gives back to you, at least I think she doesn’t. I mean, you’re not sleeping with her right?” The Brunette’s question was somewhat rhetorical, yet slightly probing in a way.
“No, I’m not sleeping with her. She’s dating Grabs. We’re just friends. Best friends supposedly.”
“Friends don’t treat friends like that,” she said resolutely, wiggling her way up against me in an almost protective manner. I smiled inwardly because I knew The Brunette was probably right and what guy wouldn’t like a girl getting all mama tiger over him? No matter if she had a boyfriend across the country.
            Irony reared its head just a day or so later. The Blonde had made her way over for some reason or another. We were standing in the kitchen when she broached the subject of The Brunette and our trip to the all night food joint.
            “What happened after I went to bed?” she asked, with an almost-accusatory undertone.
“We stayed down and chatted for a couple of hours or so. The boys took off and The Brunette slid up to bed. I came home and crashed. Web was being Web and we talked about having another poker game. Nothing major, just the norm stuff.”
“You and The Brunette were awfully buddy-buddy on the couch.”
“That’s pretty normal for us sometimes. I think she was just lonely or something.”
            “Sometimes, I don’t like the way she treats you.” Wait, what?? What did she just say to me? Almost a word for word repetition of the exact phrasing The Brunette used to describe her. Inwardly, I was falling over laughing, but maintained a calm demeanor on the outside.
“Why? What does she do that you don’t like?” I had to know.
            “Like when we got back, she was all over you and being secretive, telling secrets. I didn’t like it. It’s like the two of you have your own little world and she’s trying to manipulate all of your attention.”
“She wanted to stay down there and hang out, but only wanted to tell me things. You know how big of mouth Web can have at times. Plus, the boys won’t let things go.”
            “Well it’s not right. She still was all over you.”
“As opposed to you being between my legs?” I smirked. “I didn’t think there was anything wrong with what she was doing and she was comfy.” The Blonde huffed a little bit more before going on about whatever she had been doing in the kitchen.
Was this a little jealousy creeping out from The Blonde? The same woman who on numerous occasions threw it in my face when she was flirting with another guy, tried to mount one of her dates on my couch, in my lair was now saying she didn’t like the way in which I was treated by The Brunette.  At times, The Blonde had convinced me through her actions of the fact she did not want me, but no others could have me. I wasn’t an insurance policy. Never have been, never will be. Factor in neither one really liked the other and I was cracking up inside. It was hard not to break into a smile after The Blonde told me her view.
A manipulative person could have used the information for nefarious purposes, but I was never manipulative. No matter what had been said or done, I was still attracted to both The Blonde and The Brunette. Even though she had a beau back home, The Brunette was still great at showing up for spontaneous dinner plans. It was nothing for the two of us to dash off somewhere to grab food together, because even after everything, we were still this strange brother-sister dynamic.
However, our dynamic lines blurred, and blurred often. Remember I said I had a black light in my lair? A few days later, The Brunette was over once again. The boys might have been there for a while, but it had turned out just us as the hours continued to roll late. She disappeared for a while, to the bathtub for a welcomed soak in a home environment. Instead of going back to campus, she decided she was going to stay the night by crashing on the couch. The black light was now illuminating the darkness as I was also calling it an evening.
“Boy!” The Brunette exclaimed excitedly. “This light is so cool. It’s making me glow.” I laughed wondering if she’s ever seen a black light before.
“That’s what it does, it makes the white really glow. I think it’s cool.”
“Look at my shirt! It’s glowing. So are my socks.” Again, I laughed because I had become accustomed to the purple-ish light flooding the darkness. “Even my underwear is glowing.”
And she showed me.
I froze. Again.
My brain was in super overdrive mode, screaming danger and warnings. The ethical side of me knew better, because she had a boyfriend. I wasn’t going to let anything happen, I couldn’t. The physical side was trying to see how much she was willing to show me, or to see how much I could get her to show. With great effort, I squashed the physical still remembering an off-hand conversation about how much the boyfriend did not like me along with his desire to meet me. I laughed off her display, even though it was quite nice, to slide back to my bed. It didn’t take long before she was snuggling up against me, daring those lines to blur. I stayed safe, sleeping next to her for the night.
            She left for class in the morning, slipping from the covers quietly as I continued to slumber. When I finally awakened, I reflected on the events of the evening. What a confusing situation to be in, with someone so attractive, yet so off limits because of the relationship in which she was current. Did I regret making a move? Part of me kept mentally kicking myself, while another part was telling me I acted appropriately because being the “side dude” wasn’t going to help our friendship any.  I pushed it aside to go about my day in a normal fashion. There wasn’t any point in replaying the action in my head.
During this time, The Blond and Grabs were pretty heavy. He was coming up to see her when he had the time, to which she was wallowing in the attention. Often when she came over, she’d say hi before dashing up to hang out with my sister as they had struck up a friendship. See, there was a revolving door at the house involving my friends and some of my friends’ friends. I never knew who was coming over or who would be there upon any return. However, I loved it. I loved having my people come over just to hang. I’ve always been a little social butterfly.
Broadway and The Iowan came over when they could as baseball seemed to be eating up a lot of time. When they came over, we were typical guys in typical 20-something glory. We wrestled, we cussed, we busted each other’s chops in the most ruthless way possible and we talked about girls. The Iowan wasn’t really looking for anything but was happy to flirt when possible with whomever would flirt back. Broadway though was trying to find a girl who fit a rigid set of specifics, so much so she would never exist, even down to hair and eye color. It was a case of us trying to tell him to relax and go with the flow. But he couldn’t. He wanted to be involved with a relationship. Not to mention, he was still reeling from the kick in the romantic taint from the girl from Michigan. Throw in the whole thing with The Blonde from back in December, and you had a recipe for a guy who could toe the line to almost be slightly creeptastic. (In today’s day and age, probably Title IX violations, but it was a different time back then.) The saving grace for the time was baseball as the sport took up most of his time.
One mid-week afternoon, The Brunette came over to study just to be away from campus. She had a couple of textbooks with corresponding papers spread out on the floor while I lounged beside her. We were talking a little bit when suddenly the conversation turned flirty. Rapid escalation of flirtation, in fact. I was giving her grief about her quirks, or needing a distraction from the rigors of school.
“Oh you think I need a distraction from school?” she retorted.
            “Yeah. You’re stressing about it. You just need to get your mind off of school.” I replied. “Probably doesn’t help that Navy is a billion miles away to properly distract you.”
“What makes you think I need him as a distraction?”
            “Oh you don’t?” I laughed. “I mean if you’re stressed and horny and he’s not here, you probably need a distraction. Hey I know! I’ll distract you.” I laughed more at my measly suggestion.
The Brunette reached out in a flash, grabbed my hand began to suck on my index finger as if she was a bear and my digit was coated in honey. She held my hand firm, never breaking eye contact with me.
“How’s that for a distraction?” she nearly whispered. “I’m walking over to your bed to nap. I think you should join me.” With that, she stood up, and walked purposefully to my bed, staring over my shoulder.
At this point, I said to hell with being a brother-type figure. Hell with holding the moral high ground when the open invitation is walking away from you, after tongue-bathing your finger in a come hither manner. I didn’t care she had a boyfriend, and from what just happened, she didn’t care either. Everything which had happened between us flashed before me and I pulled the line from Risky Business: Sometimes you just gotta say what the fuck and take a chance.
            I marched over to my bed and as she wiggled her way to the side, her mouth found my neck and ears before I could react. My fingers were starting to unbutton my shirt while she continued to assault my neck and ears. She was shimmying her jeans off. Things were going to happen, we both wanted them to so the afternoon was shaping up to be -
            “Boy!” The door to my lair opened suddenly, causing both of us to freeze for a second. It was my mother. Of all the rotten timing.
“Boy!” She called again.
            “Yes?” I finally replied
“I need you to go get your baby sister from school.”
            “Can’t she walk home?”
            “No!”  My mom yelled, while The Brunette punched me at this point.
FUCK! Fucking fucker fuck. I heard The Brunette snicker a little bit because she knew the baby sister loved when I picked her up from school and she knew the timing couldn’t have been worse. I had been blocked by my own mother. Maybe the universe was out to get me. I felt the bed move as The Brunette was slipping her jeans back up. I looked at her helplessly.
            “Let’s go get your baby sister,” she said, grinning as she knew we were doomed to nothing happening. At this point I was thinking of smothering myself with a pillow because of all of the worst timing possible, this had to happen. I sighed and nodded, rolling out of my bed with a defeated thump, departing to fetch my sister from elementary school.
Of course, after returning with my sister all action was off. I was silently cursing in my head, condemning my rotten luck. Spring break was rapidly approaching and my friends would be leaving to go to various places. Part of me wished no one would leave, while the other part was ready for a break. It was going to be a week of quiet reflection, or I would be immersed in the NCAA tournament.
            The break came quickly with the highlight being a 12-inch snow. I knew the boys were in the warmer climes of Arizona, I wasn’t sure where The Blonde went, but I knew the Brunette was back home with Navy. During my time of reflection, I came to the conclusion I had no fucking idea what I was going to do. None. Go figure.
The boys were the first to return, and the first to invade my lair. They entertained me with the stories of the trip, results of the games, and the like as we lounged, dining on our staple of Spicy Nacho Doritos and Dr. Pepper. Broadway was still hung up on any girl which showed him any sort of attention (mostly the one from Michigan who was leading him around by the nose). The Iowan was just existing in his own right. Neither of these two were privy to my dilemma as The Brunette only flirted with me when we were alone while The Blonde flirted with everyone.
Both of the girls returned too and life was back to normal, or in this case, what seemed normal. During this time, The Blonde kept on seeing Grabs, while The Brunette  decided to get herself a job at the all night donut shop, a frequent hang out spot for the college crowd on Friday and Sunday nights. She loved it from the first moment she worked there, the owners treating her if she was their own daughter. She worked just the two nights, Friday and Sunday.  Once she was established, she’d always ask if we were coming down to the shop for a sugar-filled snack. Often times we did, but one particular time, I was feeling my proverbial oats.
            She was at the front of the counter, the register area sandwiched between two clear glass cases of donuts. She was giving as good as she got with us, her eyes twinkling a bit. My harmless yet devious self, came up with a hilarious (at least in my eyes) plan. Just The Iowan and I had made the venture to the shop, and my plan hinged upon having access to a writing utensil. The Iowan told me he had a marker out in his car, so I scurried away to the car to retrieve it. Once I came back in, he looked at me quizzically. I just wolfishly grinned back at him and told him to watch. I slowly wrote out a note on a napkin, spelling out a greeting, her name, her phone number and her “availability” when it came to dating. OK, maybe I fudged the whole available thing there. The Iowan asked how I could secure the note without being seen to which I told him it won’t be a problem. By feigning some simple question, while maintaining perfect eye contact with The Brunette, I placed the napkin in plain view of any customer but out of eye. The napkin held true so I told the Iowan to sit back and take in the glory of this.
Sure enough, a group of guys from the college in the shop’s town came in for treats. The two guys in front were laughing while eyeing The Brunette. Meanwhile, The Iowan and I were rolling with laughter. Finally, the group of guys let her in on the joke. She picked up the napkin, reading my scrawled not.
            “We should leave, right now,” I said. “Now.”  So, we exited as if the building was on fire, laughing. As we pulled away from the shop, I looked back to see The Brunette, in her overalls and apron, standing on the sidewalk looking for us, before we disappeared back to our town. I knew I was in trouble, probably doomed to pay for the little joke. The Iowan dropped me off before he departed back across town for his date with his books. I lounged around for a bit, finally deciding to call it a night. I’m not sure how long I had been asleep before I was awakened by someone jumping on top of me.
            “You’re an asshole,” The Brunette said, jarring me out of my sleep as she laid on top of me. “I mean a complete asshole.”
I began to laugh. “What do you mean?”
            “Those guys who came in, they were snickering and the one elbowed the other and said ‘Now’s your chance.’ I didn’t know what was going so he told me that it was an interesting approach. Then he showed me your damn sign.” She began to punch me, to which I could only laugh harder.
            “I don’t know what you mean.” I said between laughs.
“Whatever,” she said. “Scoot over.” So I scooted over and she snuggled up into me, falling asleep while smelling like donuts.
The Blonde had disappeared into Grabs or her studies. Given her track record in class, it was probably more into Grabs. We were supposedly Best Friends, but I rarely saw her. I would make it a point to stop by and say hi when I was on campus, however she wasn’t in her room much. I thought it interesting as the previous year we had been nearly inseparable, me mired in the Friendzone. She would still find her way to our Monday Night Discussion groups for a backrub on a regular basis. There were many times when she fell asleep as I worked on her back. Come to think of it, maybe it was a superpower, the ability to relax girls enough they would fall asleep while giving backrubs.
Web informed us one evening of a birthday cookout his folks were having as he was from the town just down the road. We were all invited for burgers and a Sunday evening away from campus to celebrate Web turning another year older. When I say everyone I mean Grabs, The Blonde, The Brunette, the boys and myself. Free food? Heck yes, we’ll be there.
The Blonde asked me for a ride to which I said yes. The boys told me The Brunette was coming with them and we’d just meet at Web’s house. On the way down, the Blonde chatted me up as if we had hung out the day before. It was comfortable, the conversation flowed easily between two friends. She told me about how smart Grabs was, his intelligence somewhat humbling in her view. The Blonde was also a touch insecure when it came to the intelligence difference, because Grabs could go off on the deep philosophical tangents now and then, leaving The Blonde just sitting there looking cute. I told her so what if he’s that much smarter than you, you can learn from each other.
We arrived at Web’s and Grabs was already there. He had a goofy smile plastered on his face with the arrival of The Blonde, a testament to how smitten he was in fact. The Blonde went into full on flirt mode, sucking up every bit of attention Grabs and Web were bestowing. Inwardly, I just shook my head, knowing how much of a charge she received from such attention. I helped carry some things to the back porch, clomping around in my boots.
            Supper was great; an early spring endeavor of laughter and fun. After the meal we were hanging around talking with the assembled handful of people. The Blonde was in her flirtatious element with Grabs and even Web as Web was an outlandish flirt. She kept shooting sidelong glances at me, while she sat on Grabs lap, while pouring on the flirting. I noticed the glances, but dismissed them as I’m not sure what she was trying to do, maybe pine for my attention.
I can’t say for certain if The Brunette noticed this or if she was just feeling frisky. Suddenly, she was on my lap making a conscious effort to garner my attention. And it was working. I did catch The Blonde’s eyes narrowing just a little bit as my attention was solely on The Brunette, who was placed firmly on my lap. The Brunette was trying to up her game a little too as she had unbuttoned my shirt a little bit and was running her fingers on my chest. Sure, the evening was getting cooler but I didn’t notice. She was perched in way no one could see what she was doing as she always was a master of the subtle flirt. Hey, I was enjoying myself so why stop it? The Brunette’s eyes were playful as we slipped in and out of our own little world while laughs continued to punctuate the evening.
We lost track of time for a while until the Brunette suddenly said, “Oh crap. I have to go to work in a little.” I could tell the boys weren’t ready to leave yet.
“Do you want me to give you a ride there or back to campus?” I asked. “I can do that easily.”
            “Are you sure? I’d like to go back to campus.”
            “Of course. It’s not a problem. The boys aren’t ready to leave yet and I can always scome back.”
            “What about The Blonde?”
            “What about her? She’s practically mounting Grabs right now. I’ll take you back to campus and dash back here. I bet no one notices if we leave.” The Brunette smiled and nodded.
            So, we left. I was driving a full-size pickup of the Ford persuasion. We no sooner left the city limits when suddenly The Brunette’s head was on my leg. While she seemed flirty, she also seemed vulnerable. Of course the flirty part of her had her hand on my inner thigh tracing patterns upwards. I was trying to concentrate on driving because I knew if her hand got higher, she’d kill us both. There was definitely some sexual energy  wrapped up in the vulnerability, and while I kept drifting back to the afternoon where I was completely blocked, I wrestled with being a rock upon which she could lean. It felt as if she wanted to push the boundaries of our friendship, but also was afraid of losing this brother-sister type of dynamic.
            Before anything could happen, we were back in town. I must have been speeding a bit to get back so quickly.
            “Are you going to come see me tonight?” She inquired.
            “Sure! I think so anyway.”
            “Good.” She said, somewhat resolutely as if she had made up her mind about something. “Thanks for the ride.”
            “Of course,” I smiled.
            “See you tonight.” She said as she left the truck.
            On the way back to Web’s, I pondered the truck ride home with The Brunette. I thought the flirting during Web’s party was just to bug The Blonde, but there seemed to be something deeper. At this point, I was confused because I kept creeping back to the fact she had a boyfriend back home. A boyfriend whom once again, made it very clear he didn’t like me or how close The Brunette and I were.
            We did end up going to the donut shop later, even The Blonde and Grabs made the journey too. I could tell something had happened with The Brunette. She wasn’t as flirty as she had been with me as her mind was occupied. She always forgot I could read her rather well most of the time. Our group laughed and carried on as we always did, while The Brunette stayed behind the counter, rather than come over to our table when she had a chance.
            Our eyes met from across the room. I held her gaze with a look of unspoken questions with her returned look telling me things hadn’t gone well in the couple of hours from when I dropped her off to the time I was seeing her now. To what happened, I had no idea, none, but my friend; my sister-type figure, needed me or was going to need me. I nodded slightly, a simple gesture which conveyed so much meaning. She returned a look of relief as I knew I would be getting a visit after work. A visit, which was going to have a specific purpose and not be sexually charged. After all, I still was a good listener. I turned my attention back to the group, immersing myself in the laughter, while trying to curb my curiosity.
            The evening ended with us dispersing back to our respective areas, to which I made sure the back door to the lair was unlocked. The clock read 2 a.m. when I stretched out in my bed, not dozing, but beginning the first stages of relaxation. It was quiet, quiet enough I heard a car outside stop and a car door close. Within a minute of the car door closing, the back door to my lair swished open, The Brunette’s telltale clomps of her boots on the wooden steps. Before she could say anything as she rounded the corner, I cut her off.
            “I’ve been waiting,” I said, holding the blanket up for her to slide next to me.
            “Thanks,” she said as she slipped next to me.
            What happened was a myriad of little things in the time from when I dropped her off to the time I showed up several hours later. She had been alone in the donut shop (something which never happened) and she got more than a little freaked out when she read about some robberies in the area of the shop. She went outside to find her car had a flat, which only added to the stress. To top it off, she had made a couple mistakes with some batches of donuts and completely ruined them. The owners of the shop, two of the kindest souls ever, tried to calm her down, with the guy going outside to change her tire. One thing about The Brunette was she could go full panic-mode to nearly breaking down in a short time. For the most part, I was always able to calm her down.
            “Why didn’t you tell me about the tire? I would have gone and changed it,” I said
            “What? You know how to change a tire?”
            “Well duh. Of course I do. I may be mostly useless when it comes to mechanic stuff, but I can change a tire. Plus, we were going to take your tires off as a prank but I finally nixed that. You just need to tell me these things, I’ll figure them out.”
            She cuddled deep into me, drawing my arm around her. “Thank you.”
            “You are welcome.”
            The Brunette soon fell asleep, feeling safe or secure wrapped up in my arms and my blankets. I chuckled a little bit before also slipping away to sleep.
            Just before the end of the year, The Blonde and Grabs came to the mutual agreement their relationship wasn’t serious but rather a fling. They split up easily, agreeing to remain friends. I knew the social circles wouldn’t last. Dammit to hell, I still kind of liked The Blonde too, but was wearing the mantle of World’s Greatest Friend as if I were on parade. The Brunette still had a boyfriend, a fact which wasn’t lost on my feeble brain when the blood flow returned.

            The end of the school year seemed to jump upon us before I knew what had happened. The Brunette and I had a slightly tearful farewell as she was heading for Ol’ Virginny, and we promised to stay in touch. She was already enrolled in classes back home at the U. The Blonde had made a decision to go to the same school to which Grabs had been enrolled, just a mere seven miles from me. She even told me she was excited to be going to school this close to me, as I was still such a good friend, a best friend, which led me to being slightly confused as to why she was so giddy to be staying close. The Brunette and I talked once or twice during the summer. My summer was busy, even making a trip to Oregon to see Freeze and Oregon. The Iowan went with us, and in typical Iowan fashion completely weaseled his way in between myself and a girl with whom we had gone hiking. The girl had spent the first night, flirting followed up by a makout session with The Iowan, then the next night, had her sights set on me. The Iowan couldn’t take it, literally worming his way between us as the sun set on the mountain with the flirting ramping up. I retreated to our tent, shaking my head a little bit at the intrusion. It was about par for the course for The Iowan’s behavior.
            The Blonde came back for school with me helping her move into her room at school. I met her modmates, to which they seemed fine. I was also introduced to them as her best friend, something which I had become accustomed to over the last year and a half. She was immediately immersed in her mod/school life, to which for some reason, I still thought there was a chance for us to happen. The Blonde came around more frequently than she did during the previous spring, and I wondered if it wasn’t because I wasn’t around as much.
            Soon, The Blonde was leading a football player around by his nose. This football player had it bad for her, even going as far as trying to buy her flowers and write her “number 5 in your program, number 1 in your heart,” notes. The Blonde and her modmates actually were the party girls on campus, the girls whom were always invited to every party because they were going to bring the fun or maybe even the sluttiness. At times, The Blonde seemed to wallow in the attention from this football player, but at other times, she didn’t want to be pressured by him. He actually made the comment about wanting to be inside of her, to which almost revolted her a bit. However, I’m convinced she made the makeout rounds through the parties, as did her cronies. Still, she’d come back once a week, or have me come get her for a meal or something. I met her besties from the room next door. One was from the town in which the school was located, (we’ll call her Townie) and the other from Oklahoma, so naturally, she was called Okie. Townie was a cutie, full of life and laughter, content to flirt, but holding out for a good guy. Okie? The girl was very pretty with a body to match, but was a slut.  She had a lengthy list of guys she had banged at school and was proud of her accomplishments.  Of course, these two represented the best of both worlds to The Blonde so they became the Three Amigos.
            Okie came over a couple of times with The Blonde, going as far as to telling both of us we’d make a cute couple. She even pulled me aside because she didn’t like the football player, begging me to ask out The Blonde, saying I would be so good for her. I nodded, telling Okie I was viewed as an insurance policy. Okie seemed disappointed because it did seem as if Okie valued me as a friend. Once, after playing a drinking game while watching a movie, The Blonde and I were snuggled up on the couch, with the other two on a chair as they were roommates. The Blonde was soon sleeping hard as the two roomies headed back to campus. Okie leaned down to tell me, yet again, we’d make a cute couple and she was going to work on The Blonde for me. I laughed. I told Okie it’s the fastest way to make The Blonde buck against anything was to tell her to do something. Okie fixed me with sympathetic look, rubbed my shoulder and left.
            I untangled myself from The Blonde at some point to make my way to my bed. Sometime later (very early morning as there was a bit of washed out light coming through my blinds) The Blonde pushed me awake.
            “You left me,” she said accusingly.
            “Yeah I did,” I responded. “I needed to stretch out and just wasn’t comfortable.”
            “You’ve never left before.”
            “Well before we’ve always been comfy on my bed or the couch. For some reason, I wasn’t comfortable and my back was beginning to hurt. I didn’t want you to wake up, so I slipped to bed.”
            “I didn’t like it,” she pouted.
            “You were out like a light and I’m not sure I could have woken you up. You never even heard Okie and Townie leave, not to mention watching the rest of the movie. Plus you’re here now.”
            She wormed her way against me, the two of us melting into one form on my bed. I never felt her leave. When I awoke, she was gone from my bed and gone from the house as well. It was typical being the insurance policy. I shrugged, rolled over and went back to sleep.
            A week or so later (remember, this was before cell phones) I was awakened on a Friday morning when my light was suddenly flipped on.
            “Boy! Boy! Move over.”
Suddenly, my grogginess erased as I realized the voice belonged to The Brunette. I froze while trying to gather my thoughts.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, still shocked The Brunette was in my bed. She was supposed to be back in Ol’ Virginny at school. We hadn’t even talked on the phone, yet here she was, in my bed.
“Surprise,” she giggled wiggling close to me. “I worked this out with your mom to surprise you.”
“It worked! Dammit I have to go to work in a couple of hours or I would have taken off had I known.”
“Well, let’s go get some donuts. Then I’ll sleep while you work, because I’ve been driving all night.”
It turns out The Brunette was living in a suite with three other girls she knew from school here. One of the girls was local and decided it would be a good idea to come out to surprise her girlfriend. The Brunette saw this as a free ride to see me so she jumped at the chance. She had talked to my folks for the surprise to work. We went for breakfast just like old times as if we hadn’t missed a beat. She retired to my bed while I went to work at the golf course.
Things were just like she had never left. We spent the short weekend hanging out, even assembling a grill together, sitting on the porch swing while drinking coffee. However, any time it seemed I was poised to blast off out of the Friendzone, we were interrupted by someone including The Blonde. She had caught a ride up to our house, only to be shocked when she walked in the door to be greeted by The Brunette. The Blonde was a tad flustered as The Brunette was occupying my personal space. The Blonde tried to flirt with me to no avail as my attention was elsewhere. The Blonde left as quickly as she came, going back to her dorm. Sure, I was disappointed nothing physical was happening, but one of my closest friends was here. The damn line between friendship and more was drawn in the sand, waiting to be blurred.
            Unfortunately, the weekend closed quickly, punctuated with a quick good bye kiss as she left with her roommate to make the 18 hour trek back to Virginia with the promise of returning in a month for Thanksgiving.
If I had only known now, what was going to happen then, I would have hidden for the entire Thanksgiving weekend.
I was looking forward to Thanksgiving because it was setting up to be a blast. We were going to be invaded by a host of people, including The Iowan, Broadway, The Brunette, and the Blonde; along with Sparker (a longtime family friend), Book and Book’s mom (also long time family friends.) I was off for the entire weekend beginning at 4 p.m. on Wednesday. The boys were at our house by Wednesday afternoon, with The Blonde showing up at some point and the Brunette slated to arrive Thursday morning. Our annual meal was scheduled for 12:30 in the afternoon, the traditional staple of the weekend.
After work, the boys and I went to the hockey game which we had been planning without ever communicating with words. We just went as it was expected. I don’t even remember who won. Sparker was with my father at the annual Thanksgiving Eve poker game, Book was lurking with my sister, and Book’s mom was visiting with my mom. Sometime around 1 a.m., the Iowan had crashed as he had been working nights with his travel time working against him. Broadway, who could be somewhat dense, bopped down the stairs to tell me the oven had been left on. In his “wisdom” he thought it was a mistake so he had turned it off. I panicked because I knew the turkey was slow cooking in the oven so I skittered back up the stairs to whip the oven back to bake, thanking my lucky stars Broadway hadn’t screwed with the temperature. He nearly ruined the bird, but I made a save.
I was still up when there was a knock on my door. I was slightly confused because the boys wouldn’t knock, they’d just walk in. It turns out, The Blonde was knocking at my door. I answered, shirtless for whatever reason as I was about to crash. Me being shirtless outside of sleeping, was and still is a rarity.
“Hey, you’re still up? Good, I want you to come meet someone,” The Blond said to me.
“OK, who?” I asked, all the while wondering who the hell I’m supposed to meet at 1 a.m., and what are they doing in our Turkey weekend boarding house.
The Blonde was standing there and she introduced me to her friend Mills. Mills, wasn’t a college student at The Blonde’s school, but rather a high school friend of Townie. I remember thinking Mills was heavy on the makeup while being incredibly top heavy in the chest area. Mills had been The Blonde’s ride from campus to our house; however it felt as if she was sizing me up. We made a little small talk before Mills left while The Blonde decided to join me in bed. I was ready to sleep, so she crawled into bed wearing a T-shirt and shorts, which were her standard bed attire.
            Thanksgiving morning came quickly, as people made their way to showers as our house was packed. The Brunette was due to arrive sometime around 11, driving all night to make our dinner. After she arrived, we all caravanned over to my grandparents where our dinner would number somewhere around 40 people. Again she was genuinely glad to see me, snuggling up on me as we sat around the table. The Blonde took notice, doubling and then re-doubling her flirting efforts with Sparker. Sparker was a dozen years older than she was, flirting back because he liked the attention. I caught bits and pieces of the flirting, however I was focused on The Brunette leaning on me, much like she had when she visited a month earlier.
We had a ball, even with The Brunette sneaking away for a nap. We played cards, watched the Cowboys, tossed washers, threw football and laughed the entire time. Our meal was excellent, a testament to all of the cooks who helped prepare the feast. The group convened for sandwiches and leftovers after the game. Eventually people began to disperse with our crew getting ready for some serious cards. The Brunette left to meet up with some of her other friends which were having a party. Sparker, the boys and the rest of our crew slipped around the table for a spirited card game or two.  Our laughter penetrated deep into the evening, past midnight before we all started feeling tired from the long day of festivities. The Blonde continued to flirt with Sparker the entire evening, despite The Brunette’s absence.
            Sparker was taking up the office area, crashing on the futon. Book and Book’s mom were upstairs in the baby sister’s room since she had been shipped off to her cousin’s just for space. The boys had laid claim to the family room, with The Blonde and /or Brunette supposed to crash in my sister’s room on the spacious water bed. I wondered if The Brunette had planned on joining me as she had been pretty much joined to my side outside of the nap she took during the day. Regardless, I headed to bed.
            My door opened and in walked The Blonde. She wasn’t wearing her standard bed attire of shorts and a T-shirt. Instead she was clad in a very sheer, somewhat skimpy nightgown and underwear. I raised an eyebrow as she crawled into bed with me.
“Hi.” She said.
“Hey, I thought you were going to sleep in the sister’s room.”
“No, I wanted to come in here.”
“Um, OK. Cool.”
We chatted a little bit when the conversation began to turn to her exploits at school. Things took a turn when she began to talk about the party scene there.
“Someone you know, has been in a threesome,” she said.
“Excuse me, what?”
“Someone you know has been in a threesome.”
“What the hell? It was you, wasn’t it?” There must have been disdain in my voice as she quickly began to backtrack.
“Well no, no, no. Me and Vanna were making out with the same guy.”
            “Uh huh.”
“She started going down on him and trying to get me to join, but I wasn’t going to jump in.”
“Oh really?” I asked. Strange she would have started to backtrack so quickly after saying someone I knew had been in a threesome. Vanna was a high school friend who had a dubious sexual reputation, along with an apparent appetite for as much male genitalia as possible. To me, it wasn’t any more of a surprise as Vanna’s potential for sluttiness rated very high. However, to have The Blonde involved begged questions. “So you just thought you’d share that with me?”
She had no answer for a little bit. Again she tried to backtrack saying she left the room, however I knew her well enough to know it wasn’t the case. “I wore this for you,” she said of her sleepwear.
“Oh you did? It’s nice,” I said in a noncommittal way. I wasn’t sure where she was trying to steer this conversation. I did have a bit of an idea, though. At the time, I was still trying to wrap the analytical part of my brain around the information which was being thrown in my face. She had been in a threesome, and was wearing this skimpy nightie for me. No, not having it.  I wasn’t interested in anything with her at the point. The Brunette and I had been doing some serious flirting.
I suggested we just go to sleep. To which we did. Then it happened.
I never heard my door opening and was awakened when I felt someone trying to crawl into bed. However, The Brunette was crawling on top of The Blonde, instead of me. She crawled in on top of her nemesis.
            “Oh, uh, um, uh, I’m sorry” she stammered, making a quick exit from my room. My brain snapped to attention and I realized my chance had been blown, totally blocked by The Blonde. SONOFABITCH!
            I untangled myself from my bed so I could chase after The Brunette, but she had dashed up the stairs. I cussed, resigning myself to my fate and returned to my bed. Looking back now, I’m sure The Blonde was thrilled this happened.
It turns out; The Iowan was the lucky recipient of The Brunette’s desire for affection. In fact, Broadway had to leave the room so he laid claim to part of the waterbed.
The next day things became even weirder.
            Freeze had come over in the afternoon and there were six of us guys hanging out in my little room, watching two of us battle out a Playstation football game. Sparker, and my father were watching Nebraska play. The Blonde was now literally throwing herself at Sparker, especially when I was in the room. Let her have her fun; my attention was elsewhere.  
            The Brunette had made her way to my sister’s room as the sibling had vacated to run around with her friends. I made my way in to check on her, to which the conversation quickly escalated from good-natured flirting to full-on flirting. She told me to shut the door to the room as we had some unfinished business. There was no mistaking the directness in her look.
            “What about all of the people in the next two rooms?” I asked.
            “What about them? They aren’t paying a bit of attention. Why don’t you help me out of my jeans?”
            I stood to close the door when I heard a familiar voice. It was a voice I had known for 16 years when we were first introduced to each other by my grandparents.
            Elmer.
            Elmer had come over. Elmer and I had been friends since we were five years old, a friendship which always saw the two of us hanging out whenever possible. He had moved out to Illinois to work with his uncle. Now, he was in the basement.
            “ELMER!!” The Brunette squealed, quickly rousing herself from the waterbed. She scurried out to give him a hug. Meanwhile, I slammed my forehead into the wall. Now I knew I couldn’t catch a break. I knew it was going to be great to see him, but for the love of all that is holy, The Brunette and I were really close to obliterating the line of friendship.
            Elmer hung out with us for a while before we decided it was time to make the annual basketball games. Our plan was to grab center court seats and resume our roles of ultimate hecklers. We heckled in a tasteful, humorous way, often getting laughs from the people we heckled. The Blonde stayed around rather than going to the game.
            We were our obnoxious selves during the game while also re-enacting any questionable calls we saw fit. Sure, we played to the crowd when we could as  we tried to help the team to a victory. The Brunette leaned in close to me at one point late in the second half.
            “Hey, we’re going out to this house. Why don’t you make sure no one is in your bed tonight?” She said this brushing my ear with her lips. Message received.
            “You got it. Be careful.”
            While we were at the game, Sparker took The Blonde with him to run “errands.” The errand? Taking my dad’s truck into the country so they could have sex. Sparker had warned my dad he was going to take her out there since she was asking for it. Of course, she went willingly, in an attempt to slap me in the face. My mom had been embarrassed by The Blonde’s behavior, literally oozing sexual innuendos at every opportunity as she continued to broadcast the open invitation to Sparker.
            We played cards again, only I could think of things to come with The Brunette. Our game ended a little earlier as it had been a full day with another one on the horizon. Sometime during the card game, The Blonde had returned. When she started for my room as people were bedding down, I stopped her.
            “Not tonight. I’m going to bed alone,” I told her firmly. She didn’t say a word, just went to my sister’s room.
            I did fall asleep, sleeping lightly. Sometime around 3 a.m. my door creaked open. I snapped awake to see The Brunette come stumbling in. She was incredibly drunk and was having trouble walking.
            Right then I knew I had to be responsible. I had to be the good Kansas brother type figure.  Mother puss bucket. I shook my head at my rotten luck, some of it my fault, some of it the circumstances, helped her into bed and grabbed her some water. She wormed her way against me soon to fall asleep after mumbling something which sounded like gratitude. Within minutes, she was breathing deep, the sounds of a person in an alcohol-induced slumber.

posted by Rusty @ 9:41 PM Comments: 0