I loved Kevin. From the first moment I saw him I loved him. He was wearing khakis and a green windbreaker and had a slight case of acne. Swoon alert! I asked around Hampshire, “Who’s that kid in the green windbreaker?” His best friend, a former heroin-addicted lesbian, had just moved into our house so Kevin started coming over all the time. I high fived myself in my brain. He would walk into the house and rush by us because we were an intimidating bunch and I’m sure I was always staring at him. I told my lesbian housemate that I thought her friend was hot and the next thing I know the three of us are taking bong hits in my bedroom. I went to put on music to make things less awkward. “Should we listen to The Pixies?” I asked, but Kevin didn’t know who they were. Double swoon! He told me he was in the chess club and majored in math. TRIPLE SWOON. Kevin was funny and awesome and we become a good couple. Or so I thought anyway. He sold pot and we both smoked it by the truckload. Then we discovered heavier drugs together. It all went downhill from there. It wasn’t that we fought or didn’t have good sex. We were best friends. The problem wasn’t our relationship, it was us. We were young, dumb, co-dependent, and heroin addicts. The drug made everything weird because it always came first. I feel sad when I think about Kevin because it was the beginning of something so awesome and innocent and just turned dark and awful. We both eventually cleaned up but to this day he won’t talk to me for whatever reason. Maybe I did something bad. Maybe it was all my fault? I’m sure he’s killing it wherever he is. He was a good one.
This poor guy. Extremely good looking but quiet and dorky and reserved. I dropped a bomb onto his world when I met him in New York City and introduced him to heroin. I’m not even sure what he was more addicted to, the drug or me. I swore up and down that I loved him but what I really loved was his reliability. I loved having someone to get high with and snuggle with. I never wanted to be alone. I ache when I think of these days. I was scared of everything but was still too young to know how to admit it. Craig played guitar and keyboard and also key-tar. We sang songs together and got high and even drove across the country. What did we talk about? I’ll never know. We listened to Harry Potter audio books. He was with me when 9-11 happened. I can’t even remember either of us reacting to anything. At least it was drama free. One night he was sleeping in my bedroom and I was in the living room with another guy, giving the other guy a BJ. WHAT? Who was I? I was 21 or something. I thought everything was soooo important and I was soooo in love. How certain I was of it. Fuckin’ a. I wish I could go back in time and punch myself. I can’t even remember how I broke up with Craig. Oh yeah, I went to rehab.
James was my first sober boyfriend. He wasn’t sober, but I was, so in a way it was like dating one of my first ever boyfriends (see part 1). James and I moved into together immediately. He would whine all the time about how cold his apartment in Brooklyn was and this was around the time the feeling of guilt first entered my relationships, so I felt it was my duty as a girlfriend to have him live with me. Stupid. He moved in and I got a second cat and we stopped having sex, in that order. I started to resent James because a) he was a bit of a liar and b) he was afraid of me. He smoked a shit ton of weed and laughed even when things weren’t funny. That’s the worst isn’t it? I broke up with James after 8 or 9 months when I met someone else who was funny and awesome and was just my best friend (it was a guy, yes). I was like, “Oh wait, this is what I want. Someone awesome rather than someone boring and shitty.” I broke up with James and he threw a remote control at me. Then I told him I was going to Long Island for the weekend and that his things should be gone when I returned. I left the apartment but ended up missing my train to Long Island so I turned around and came back. I sat around, smoked a cigarette, checked my email, made some tea, and suddenly I heard someone in the bathroom. I got scared. “Hello?! Who’s there?” James appeared from the bathroom where he had been hiding in the shower. WTF!?! I was all, “Uh… were you hiding in there this whole time?” And he was like, “Yeah,” and nervously laughed. I felt weird, but I also didn’t feel guilty and was glad to break up with him. He’s actually a really nice person. Sorry?
My list of boyfriends has to stop here because I’ve been asked by several current ex’s to not include them. After James I went out with 3 more guys and now I’m on my 4th and hopefully last. The end.