Don't sleep with your roommate.

Don’t sleep with your roommate.

So I moved in not last Friday but the Friday before that. That night I basically met my roommate. I also met his girlfriend. We had kabobs that my roommate made for dinner– yummy. We were drinking bottle after bottle of wine. Then I remember my friend Jen leaving and basically, that’s it. Oh, and I remember getting my –melt in your mouth- Klonipin. And then I remember taking a lot of those with the wine. My roomies girlfriend and I were eating Klonipin like candy.

Sometimes when I drink too much, well, my memory stops, I guess that I’m doing the things I would have done anyway. I just have no memory. I completely black out. I seem completely fine, maybe a little drunk. I don’t even slur. Even my friends can’t tell. It’s not good. It’s the reason that I’m quitting Wellbutrin and Klonipin. That and I want to enjoy the mischief that I get into. I probably had a great time. I know that I enjoyed hanging out with this couple. They were both really easy to be around and we had fun, and I was being all “Ruth” meaning open and honest, and very myself, filter less.

The next thing I remember I’m waking up in my bed nude, alone, wondering what the hell happened. Thinking, shit, maybe I’m safe; maybe I didn’t have sex with that couple. Maybe, I didn’t just walk into this roommate situation and possibly fuck up someone’s relationship, or set some kind of expectation, or cause weird funk between myself and my would be great friend of a roommate.

So, I got out of bed, quietly, noticed that my clothes were all next to the bed. That is a good sign. But wait, where are my flip-flops? Shit. I then reluctantly get dressed and tiptoe downstairs to find my shoes. Then I see the leftover massacre of the evening. Couch askew, the cushions all out of whack. The rug fanned over. Empty bottles of wine cluttering the coffee table, obvious signs that something, a fight, no a brawl, had happened here. Then I found them. My flip-flops were there like a bad omen. My little shoes showed me everything I needed to see. There was sex. I was a part of it. And, now I had to ask someone.

Having to ask someone whether or not you’ve had sex with him or her is true ego castration. And since I’m so smooth, the first thing out of my mouth when I saw him the next day was -hey I had a great time last night… did we have sex? He smiled like he was ready for more. Then he told me what had happened. Lets just say, a lot happened, and I don’t remember any of it. I wish that I could say that that was the first time. You know what they say, wish in one hand, and shit in the other, and tell me which one fills up first. My ex-husband used to say that to me all the time. He knows that I’m a dreamer.

After he tells me everything, well, I’m in a little shock. Is there any going back? Then he asks me what I’m doing tonight, says he’s bored. I’m still shocked, nothing – I reply. So, we went out and had fun and went with Jen and got wasted and ended up together that night. I remember that night. By the way, I’m still in shock, and I’m trying hard to ignore it.

Then he calls the girl that I thought was his girlfriend, and apparently wasn’t, and tells her that they are over. K, so some more shock. I think this was so that he could feel better about sleeping with me. I’m really sad that I’m not going to (apparently) see her again, because I genuinely like her. I didn’t think that he handled it very well. If he doesn’t want to be with her or anyone else in the same way that they want to be with him, then please spare them. That is something I’ve done, and probably will do again, at my most selfish. At this point I’m informed that he’s broken up with her before, so I’m prepared for them to get back together later that day or something. I’m anticipating that happening, because, well how many times did I get back together with Asa?

We end up hanging out all week, hardly any sleep, and lots of fun. We talk about sleeping together more than we actually do. I start being really honest, because I feel like I’m starting to like him. This is where I try to scare him off. The honesty is drunken honesty. We have little arguments about how this is starting to feel like a relationship. He doesn’t want that. I shouldn’t want a relationship, because, seriously, I need to be alone till I don’t feel lonely anymore. (Thanks for the advice, Max.) I just move from distraction to distraction. Right now, I don’t need a relationship. I have to –get over my failed marriage, not get into another dysfunctional relationship.

I had told Jen that he would probably freak out in a week. And 8 days after the initial night, he said something about not wanting to get attached; he had been sleeping in my bed (Clay’s bed) for almost the whole last week. He didn’t want to get used to it. I had gotten several numbers on our various outings. He said that he didn’t want it to be weird. I knew that I had to end it. He didn’t want me, and I wasn’t going to force him to be with me. I wasn’t going to sacrifice myself to him. That’s when I said it –sure, I want a relationship. Then he could say no, and feel good, and I could just get on with it.

Sure enough, the day after, he went to see her. I highly doubt that they won’t be back together very soon, if not already. There aren’t any hard feelings. Once we get past the weird funk, I’m sure we’ll all be great friends. I haven’t had a roommate yet where we haven’t loved each other, and been seriously sad when parting. I’m sure we’ll be like brother and sister in no time. If only I hadn’t slept with the kid.

Now I just don’t want to have sex with anyone. I don’t want to go there. I feel like there is just way too much involved. I’m over the whole sexual exploitation of myself. I’m done with the meaningless shit. It’s time to buckle down and get on with school. And, as my best friends will point out, I have said this before.