|Everything's got to be so damn dramatic...|
We had been working together before his leave, and I hadn't seen him in a while. I texted a friendly greeting, saying "cool, you're in town!" He was partying with some other wrestlers at our favorite spot, The Yee Dynasty and no, I don't remember why Chandra and I didn't just go and get our Yee on with them.
Any damn way, the significance this is: no interaction with Falcon was considered flirtatious. He was a nice, non-threatening guy and he had a girlfriend. Nothing weird about me saying hello.
Nor was it weird when he sent me a friendly chat on FaceBook Messenger several days later.
Now, I should remind anyone reading where I was at this time. I was starting my long adventure with depression; it was so fresh and new that I didn't even recognize the symptoms. I knew that I was often lonely and started to feel adrift from my world, like an island away from everyone around me. Sure I was sad, but probably no big deal...
It was nice chatting with Falcon and getting to know more about him. In fact, I soon found a whole other him: an exciting and alluring side, hidden beneath the all-American, blond, athletic boy.
Over the course of a couple weeks, our conversations turned more flirtatious in nature, and I was getting the hint that I was dealing with a man on a mission. Never one to shy away from an elephant in the room, I told him, "it seems like you're interested in more than just chatting..."
"Maybe with the right woman," he replied with a winking face emoticon. That smooth bastard. Well, consider my curiosity/interest piqued.
|c-c-c-cold hearted sssnake|
Once his motives were revealed, I agreed to hang out with him soon after. Now, I've repeated this general rule to many MA and/or NH residents: "people do not cross state lines to 'hang out' with people who aren't close friends or family." Surely, he wasn't stopping by just for tea and crumpets.
I've been trying to think of a song that describes this union, because I feel like I had one at the time. Somewhere there has to be a rock song with lyrics about knowing that something is dangerous, but doing it anyway because you can't resist the temptation. If I were performing it, I'd be singin' about the lure of playing with fire. How my sad and lonely soul craved the adrenaline rush of seeing him. I would use words like "addiction," "illicit," "danger," uh... "forbidden?'
Throughout the bizarre ups and downs of the Summer of 2012, we had the occasional good time. When he finally made his return to WAW at a special "away" show in MA, Falcon the performer was in top form. He fought his former tag team partner whom my character Moody Starr had just guided to become the champion. As the champ's manager, I tried to remain neutral to both men--the match was solid. A local promoter from a reputable wrestling promotion invited the three of us to do a show.
Summer turned to fall and in September, four of us WAWers traveled to Rhode Island to perform at a wrestling show. We all stayed at Falcon's small apartment and it was here that we went "public," so to speak. The guys shared the living room, while the host and I shared a bed. We outed ourselves as "more than friends." Not really a couple, but a thing. In November, he asked me to be his date to a family member's wedding in his hometown. It would mean getting home very late on a school night (gasp).
Still, we weren't an official couple. I didn't know what we were and didn't much care. I was having fun and that's all I wanted. Falcon was great, but I knew; behind those eyes was a ladies' man, a "player." Why don't we have better words to describe men who are like this? He had been untruthful in his past relationships, but as long as I wasn't committed to him; I didn't have to care, as far as I was concerned. I remember telling him, "a tiger doesn't change his stripes."
For whatever reason, he sure did a good job of expressing his affections for me and the things I did. He loved my apartment full of old-timey knick knacks. He loved children and thought it was great that I did too. He thought I was beautiful and smart (duh). And he loved my creative side. In fact, he was absolutely enthralled when I presented him with a Christmas gift:
Here's where I leave off. My storytelling isn't always planned ahead and I just write when I have time and motivation. Also, my storytelling is long and wordy. My bad. It might not be separated into equal parts because this isn't classic literature, it's a rambling blog post.
Next up: rising action; a literary comparison, and a striking similarity between the two sides of me.