Tuesday, 22 September 2009

  • "Who is the Bigger Slut? You or Me?"

    A while back I went on exchange with 20 other people from my school, only one of whom I knew. I went just to test out my language skills, have a bit of a holiday, and have some fun. I didn't expect to met the guy who would flip my world around.

    It was a strange meeting, something almost movie-like, our surnames are next to each others alphabetically, so we were placed next to each other on the plane. We didn't say anything, or really acknowledge each other until the pilot made an announcement that there would be a bit of turbulence, for the next hour. He said it so oddly we looked at each other, wide eyes and raised eyebrows and cracked up. We were inseparable ever since.


    A few days later I was sitting with him and a few of the others when one of the girls started talking to him about another girl who wasn't on the trip. "Who's she?" I asked, so blissfully unaware of the response, "His girlfriend."

    He had a girlfriend, at least I found out reasonably early in the trip, but I had that sinking feeling. All those thoughts that he liked me must have been wrong, right? But he kept being friendly with me, and one day as part of a joke, he put his arm around me. Time and time again, he'd find a reason to put his arm around me, until he did it out of habit. He'd take my hand when we were sitting and he'd put his head on my shoulder on those long bus journeys.

    By this time I'd found out that he'd only been dating the other girl a few days before coming on the trip, and I convinced myself they weren't really dating. I convinced myself that the moment we came home, he'd break up with her for me. I convinced myself I wasn't doing anything wrong.

    On one of the last days of the trip we were standing on the beach, looking at the water, his arms wrapped around me. "I wonder who she'll think is the bigger slut, me or you." He said, so off-the-cuff. I was stunned, I knew I was doing something wrong, but I never thought of myself in terms of 'the other woman'. "I need a drink." I went over to where the rest of the group were and stayed there, avoiding him.

    I couldn't carry on the way we had been, I couldn't be with him until he had broken up with her. I decided once we were back home and he had broken up with her, that I would date him, but until then we would just be friends. But I couldn't bring myself to tell him either.

    At the airport going home there was a tearful goodbye between us and our host families, and he hugged me tight to try and console me. I couldn't push him away, I couldn't tell him, but I couldn't look at myself either. I just needed to get back so we could be together.

    He didn't break up with her the first few days, I thought that was kind of him. He still came to see me as often as he could and hugged me as he left. He didn't break up with her after a few weeks, I decided he had no reason to, whilst he had both of us. Slowly he stopped coming to see me, I thought that maybe then he'd miss me, and come back to me, single. But then our long chats became smiles and nods as we passed each other, as I passed him with his girlfriend.

    He never broke up with her. He never intended to.

    A few months later, after his girlfriend had broken up with him, it was our turn to host. It meant seeing him again, spending time with him, sitting next to him. His arm went back around me, his charm working like magic as he played with my hand. But he wasn't going to ask me out, just like he was never going to before. At the end of the night we said goodbye, our hosting duties over we had no reason to see each other anymore. He hugged me tight, smiled, and left, leaving me to pick up the pieces of my heart, and walk out the door knowing that it wasn't that he wanted her, it's that he just didn't want me.

    Have you ever been the "other woman/man" in a relationship? Has it ever worked out for you?

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