This is the continuation from Part 1.
Last time in part 1 of this lost love story: I formed an intense connection with a guy at work and we finally set up our first real date – on a motorcycle ride, which would be my first ever. The day of he goes missing and is nowhere to be found until I get a horrifying call from him later that day – he has been in a severe motorcycle accident and is in the hospital. I am determined to find the meaning of this synchronistic event.
I am racking my brain when I get off the phone with him. Either the universe is telling me to stay the hell away from this guy, or in a romantic perspective is telling me I have found the once in a lifetime type of man who is my soul mate and our union would be so perfect that the universe has to try to pry us apart. Much like Romeo and Juliet (yeah, yeah, I know…). Or the universe is telling me not to forget this one because he is the one. Of course in my head, chances are 2 to 1 that he is my soul mate. So I pursue him.
He is gone from work for weeks. I make sure to give him lots and lots of space, but periodically call and make sure he doesn’t need anything. He refuses my offers every time. I understand because he doesn’t want me to see him weak and injured.
Finally one day I see him making his way down the hall on crutches. I talk to him briefly, but other people walk in on our conversation, wanting to know what happened. Don’t they know this is a deeply personal conversation! However, it is fine because I am sure that after he sees me again, he will remember to text or call me personally.
That doesn’t happen. Weeks go by again and I finally see him on campus, walking with his friend. It happens to be the day of a major drinking holiday, and he asks me why I’m not drinking yet. He then tells me: “we are heading down to (the local) bar in a few hours, why don’t you come down as well?” Bam. And so he invited me. This was it.
Later that night he texts me to ask if I am coming to the bar. I tell him yes, in a few hours.I walk to my friend’s house and we begin to discuss our plans for the night. She wants to drive down to a beach city to join our other friends. I tell her I want to go to the (local) bar. I explain to her why, and she suggests that we go there first and then drive to the beach city. It gets later and I am still waiting for her. She is now acting like she does not want to go with me, and I can’t wait any longer. I decide to be ballsy and go it alone. After all, he is waiting for me there, so I will not be flying completely solo.
I boldly set out by myself. I enter the bar and see him through the crowd. As I make my way over, I notice he is talking to a girl. Awkward, I think to myself. Well, I am late and he probably is drunk. I gather up my courage one more time because he did invite me there. I imagine I will scare away the girl as soon as he greets me.
I walk up, and to my surprise he sheepishly looks at my and tries to greet me behind the girl he is talking to. Hugs me, but quickly pulls away and turns back to her. It is awkward, but I stand my ground and wait for him. He keeps looking over at me and then finally squirms away again and asks if I want a drink. Finally. He orders it and then the girl looks at me. He introduces me to her, and then tells me there is an open seat next to his friend, which happens to be about 5 seats away from him, around the corner of the bar counter. I was infuriated, but he turned away from me again so I had no choice.
I walked away, mortified, but I continued to stand my ground. Plus, I stil wasn’t quite sure what was going on. I sat down next to his friend and took a shot. And then another. I started to flirt with his friend as I looked across the bar counter. I tried to make eye contact with him, but his eyes were fixed on her. And then he touched her. Tenderly. She turned towards me and smirked. At this point I realized she was not even hot. She was probably 8 years older than me and looked like a dried up, leathery woman who in her best days could have only been mediocre looking. I had another shot and flirted more loudly and obnoxiously. I texted my guy co-worker who I knew had a crush on me and invited him there.
My co-worker arrives and by this time I’ve downed more than a few shots and a drink or two. I am wasted. I flirt with both of the guys and make a show of myself. The woman sees my shenanigans and ups her efforts to compete with me. She starts to make out with him, and he does not stop her. I am deflated. He finally looks directly at me after this kiss and then suggests he take a picture of me with the guys. I am baffled, and I pose for an awkward photo in which I attempt to be quite friendly with the two guys.
Shortly after he leaves for the restroom. The woman walks up to us and asks us where her boyfriend went. My throat closes up. The friend teases her and finally answers in a slightly bitter tone. I have my chance to ask him who the girl is. He verifies this is the long-term girlfriend. A girl not one of the friends likes or approves of. But he explains to me that he is in love with her and they can’t get him to dump her no matter what a bitch she has been.
By this time I am beyond wasted so I am beyond musing over the meaning of this event. I collect up my two boys and suggest we take our party elsewhere. They, of course, follow me. I play dumb boy drinking games for the rest of the night, sinking into a deeper drunk depression before somehow making it home and passing out in my own bed.
The next day I sit back and recall the events as they unfolded. Turns out, he had a girlfriend the entire time and I had been spared a potential motorcycle accident, heartbreak, and unintentional accomplice to infidelity.
I had finally figured out the meaning and it was not one of my fairy tale endings. I didn’t know whether to cry or be thankful.