The Rejection

I would chalk it up to drunken babble, but I don’t believe alcohol makes you say things you don’t already believe when you’re sober.

I was driving Chris home from his birthday, and he was suggesting I offer him some birthday sex. Or at least some birthday cuddles.

“That ship sailed a long time ago, son,” I said. That ship, in fact, sailed a good 7 or 8 years ago. I’ve known Chris since my freshman year of college. I had a crush on him instantly. He asked another girl out on a date. Nearly 10 years later, there’s a 4 year old kid between them and lots of custody battles. In the meantime, I’d moved Chris into “brother” zone, and I never looked back.

“I know. I know. I had my chance and I fucked it up,” he slurred.  

“Yes. And now you’re like a brother. I don’t really want to cuddle with my brother.”

Chris cringed. “Ouch. Did you really just say that?”

“I did, and I don’t feel bad about it. If I remember correctly, the version you told me was that if Sarah had said no that night, you would have asked me on that date.”

“Did I really say that? Man, I was a dick in college.”

“Yeah, so I don’t really feel guilty about turning you down tonight, even on your birthday.

He said it again. “Man, I was a dick.”

Don’t worry about it. I’m used to people telling me I'm their second choice.” I was trying to be light-hearted about it all even though always being second fiddle is wearing pretty thin.

“Hey. Don’t believe that. Would it make you feel better if I reminded you that Sarah turned out to be a bitch?”

“Um. No. And, really, I don’t care much.”

  “Well,” he said as he changed songs on his player, “I think that if I were not drunk and I asked you to go out on a date, you would not turn me down. You would be interested.”

“Uh. That’s an interesting belief.”

“Well, I feel like we have always been on the cusp of something more, but we’ve never actually crossed that path at the right time.” I almost kind of a little bit nodded my head ever so slightly, not quite sure what he was talking about, not quite sure I wanted to contradict him right then. “I’ve just never pursued anything with you because I think you’d want something serious, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!? I didn’t ask for this. In fact, I specifically didn’t want any of this conversation, or his requests for cuddles.

At this point, the conversation had veered so far into the danger zone, I’d lost all hope of salvation. I opted to say nothing because nothing was safer than the rant and anger that was nipping at the back of my lips to come out. So he kept talking, digging a grave he never even needed to grab a shovel for in the first place. “And I care so much about you, and you’re so amazing and any guy would be lucky to have you. But I don’t want to hurt you. That’s so important to me that I don’t hurt you.”

I’d hit a new low at this point. I was now being rejected after explaining that I wasn’t interested. Guys are now going out of their way to explain to me why I’m not really worth their time or effort.

“You know, I kind of know this speech by heart. The last guy who turned me down, the one you keep calling a dick because he keeps checking up on me and acting like he likes me and then turning me down, turned down my offer for a casual relationship because he was afraid I wanted something serious and that he’d hurt me. Oh, and I’m incredibly amazing and am going to make someone really happy one day.”

“But I mean it! Don’t compare me to him.”

“Yep.”

But you see,” he continued as if he wasn’t already at the 6 foot mark, “I need to focus on my little girl. I know it sounds weird, but she’s the girl I’m worried about now.”

“Chris, that’s how it should be.  Your whole world should be about your little girl, so you’re doing the right thing when you focus on her.” He was quiet for a minute. “And I’m not snuggling with you,” I said.

“Damnit.”