Given the rousing success of this thread by Cuse, I am somewhat inspired to post here and postulate myself before you Gen Chat of GTAF, for I need your help. Or advice. Given that the reprobates I call friends are, for all intents and purposes, unintelligible and might as well be caveman, you are my last hope.
See, I've found myself in a bit of a pickle. A jam. A quandary. I recently started dating (recently being about a fortnight) a lass who, for several months prior, had been engaging no strings attached, utterly meaningless casual sex. What you might call a f*ck buddy, or friend with benefits. Unfortunately, I cannot report that it is as good as Hollywood depicts it to be in the movie Friends with Benefits (safe for work) because it isn't. Okay, that might have something to do with me not looking like Justin Timberlake, nor her Mila Kunis but I can't imagine it being that good in real life even for really ridiculously good looking people like them.
Then, rather sneakingly I must admit, she dropped a parent bomb and started wanting more. My first response was f*ck that, I'm out of here. Let's take this interlude to mention that I shouldn't be considered the hero of this story, I'm an asshole, I confess - don't crucify me too harshly. I took a bow, exited stage right and got the hell out of Dodge. I enjoyed her company well enough, I suppose, but I did not see her as relationship material. Too vapid or ditzy for my tastes, or so I had adjudged.
But then a few days later I had an epiphany. I recalled an ex-girlfriend of mine, and the only woman whom I could honestly and truthfully say that I was in love with. See, when I first met this ex-girlfriend, I hated her. She annoyed me. Got under my skin etc etc. And this carried on for three long and arduous years (give or take a couple of months) of which our respective social circles caused our repeated interactions. Then, eventually, something gave in. We actually found that we shared interests on a number of things, and before you knew it, were discussing the possibility of children in the "future".
The moral of the story? Given enough time a weed might blossom into a beautiful flower. No, I've gone and mucked that one royally up haven't I? The idea remains the same, though; give something a chance and you might be surprised.
So armed with that epiphany, I re-engaged the subject with her and decided to give it a shot. It's not like I have/had a whole lot to lose anyway. Which now brings us forward to the most present time. And almost upon that of which I require assistance. This weekend just gone (unless you're in the US at time of posting), we decided to go up the coast for couple of nights, get a hotel room, see the sights (she also had a seminar pertaining to her law degree, so it made sense to make a weekend of it).
Where we went isn't too far from here, so we left early Saturday night (having already planned the night's festivities). Dinner, followed by a movie, at which point we parted ways. She wanted to go clubbing with her friends, so I encouraged her to do so in the knowledge that I wouldn't be joining her. I hate night clubs; crowded, expensive drinks, sh*t music and to make matters worse, I only rarely drink these days (usually at relaxed social gatherings and only a few beers even then) because quite frankly I can think of better ways to spend my Sunday than spent hovering over the toilet bowl. So I retire to the hotel room for the night. I had actually brought my xbox as it were, so I was killing time on GTA, best boyfriend ever amiright?
At about 4:30am she stumbles into the hotel room, drunk. Fair enough, been there and done that more times than I care to count. Except that she stumbles in with a guy in toe, and I know that none of the friends she went clubbing with were guys (unless they had undergone and fully recovered from sex change surgery in only a couple of hours). He looks at me, realises what he is getting himself into and leaves.
She drunk-rambles an explanation, but I'm no longer fluent in drunk-speak so whatever, I'm just sage like calm, nod and help her into bed. To be honest, I wasn't even mad so much as I was insulted by this occurrence. I leave the room and stew over it for a couple of hours; before I pack myself stuff (sun's up by this point), get in the car and drive home. I do this without being in possession of a license, risky and/or stupid perhaps, but this is my car and I wasn't going to leave it there and trouble someone else for a ride home to boot (I warned you I wasn't the hero of this story ).
It's Monday here now though. I've got about 25 missed calls, last I bothered to check my phone. I've yet to answer, read texts or check voice mails.
And thus, now, I am needing advice. Do I cut my losses? Listen to what she has to say? Give this more time so it turns into something I am more inclined to care about? Fake my own death in a most horrific fashion?
Hit me. Don't be shy. Don't hold back. And for love of all things Internet, don't leave your humour at the door even if this of a somewhat serious nature. I expect mockery, nay, I welcome it and enjoy it. Same goes with hilarious solutions to this. BRING IT ON
And for the tl:dr crowd, this post is definitely worthy of it, no doubt. Don't shy away, know that I still love you just the same even if you read only this sentence OR none at all.