Love Triangle: Part Two

I should have known better than to ignore the feeling in my gut; deep down inside, I knew that being 'friends' with James was like playing with fire. Even though my brain kept telling me to run, I kept texting him that summer, coming to think of him as Seamus - like my cousin Megan - rather than James. We didn't meet up alone again that summer, but we texted often; sometimes he would message me on gay apps like Manhunt and tell me he wanted to cum on my face. When Magic Mike came out in theaters, I went to see it with Seamus, John, and Seamus's mom. Despite my reservati0ns about being the 'other woman' I'd be lying if I said that I didn't like the attention.

That October - for my twenty-second birthday - I had a small party at a local - and now defunct - bar called the Well. I invited my boss and work friends, as well as the few cousins who were old enough to drink, as well as Seamus and John. I didn't really want John there, but I knew that inviting him was the only way I'd get to see Seamus. John and I hadn't interacted very much, but I got the distinct impression that he didn't like me too much; I couldn't blame him - his boyfriend had sucked my dick a few months previously. John wasn't completely unattractive - I've never been into blue eyed blonds - but he looked like Sweet Polly Purebred from Underdog. I found it odd that at twenty-four, John's mom handled all of his finances; every time he got paid, he had to give his mom his paystubs.

I was a lot skinnier back in 2012, and I didn't eat anything heavy before I left the house - in case my stomach acted up - so I got drunk very quickly. I spent the majority of the night going from lap to lap - all the straight guys' of course - before settling on Seamus's. In my drunken state of mind, I liked how sturdy he was, that he was big enough that if anyone messed with me, he could handle it. I wanted to curl up in his lap and fall asleep with his arms around me - not because I wanted to date him, but because I wanted to feel safe.

Once the alcohol started running through me, I realized that I would have to face my irrational fear of public bathrooms. In high school, I had managed to only use the bathrooms on the late show nights when I was in drama; when I'd started my job at the pizzeria, I'd tried holding my pee and had ended up getting a urinary tract infection - I swore that I'd never put myself through that agony again. I was fine using the bathroom since it was just for a pee - minimum exposure to other people's germs - but I didn't like the idea of having someone else in the bathroom with me while I was going. I turned to John and grabbed him.

"Come to the bathroom with me," I slurred, leaning in so I didn't have to shout. "I need you to make sure there's no one else in the bathroom."

John allowed me to drag him to the bathroom and after checking to make sure it was unoccupied, he stayed outside while I did my business. He walked me back to the table and then I went back to ignoring him.

I had assumed that my boss and his wife would drive me home - as they always did when we went to the Well - but Seamus offered to drive me home - in my van - while John followed in their car. I drunkenly gave him directions, the world outside the car spinning too fast for me to even keep up. Somehow, we made it to the house - John wasn't close behind us. We sat in the car, as I tried to muster up the energy to move again and willed the world around me to stop spinning. I was shocked when Seamus leaned over and pressed his cold lips against mine. "I love you," he said, regarding me with an unreadable expression.

I was speechless, unsure of how to respond. Thankfully, he didn't expect a coherent response; instead, he helped me out of the van and kept me steady as I put in the code on the garage door and stumbled down the hallway to my bedroom. Once Seamus got me into bed, he and John left. I was kind of bummed that Seamus wasn't there to hold me - and kiss me again - but even in my drunken stupor I knew that that was not a possibility, not without hurting John. The world was still spinning - I had definitely had too much to drink on an empty stomach. Before I could fall asleep, I felt like I was going to puke; I grabbed the wicker basket I used as a backup laundry hamper and projectile vomited into it before rolling over and passing out.

When I woke up the next day, I felt exhausted. I quickly rehydrated and lay in bed, thinking back on the events of the party. I had a concrete memory of Seamus's lips on mine - they were cold - but when they had touched mine, I had felt like a jolt electricity had gone through me. And hadn't he said that he loved me? He had, right? As my mind started to whirl with possibilities, I couldn't help but notice that I was hoping that when he'd told me he loved me, he'd meant as more than a friend.

In the following days, I accepted the fact that for whatever reason, I wanted Seamus to be mine. I knew that it was wrong to want someone in a relationship, but rather than focus on how wrong it was, I instead thought about how good I felt when he paid attention to me. It wasn't long before Seamus started sending me nudes. His penis was long and thick - Polish sausage, as he referred to it. I had never seen an uncircumcised dick before, but I assumed it would be the same as mine, just with extra sensitivity. It was nice to be wanted, and I have to admit I liked the taboo nature of the whole thing. One day we were sexting; I came and then Seamus came, but then he disappeared. I was annoyed that he had vanished after he'd cum, but after about forty-five minutes, he finally responded, telling me that he had jerked off a second time. Two in a row sounded miserable - I had tried it once and almost passed out from oxygen deprivation. The second load always took a longer time than the first - no wonder he'd been MIA. By November, Seamus told me that he and John were breaking up - John had cheated. As much as I knew getting cheated on had to hurt him, I wanted to point out the hypocrisy of it all, considering Seamus had cheated on John with me, even if it was just a sub-par blowjob. Still, a part of me was thrilled that John had fucked it up; I knew that with him out of the picture, it wouldn't be long until Seamus could be mine. Sure enough, as soon as they officially broke up, Seamus texted me asking if I would go on a date with him. I was giddy with excitement and rushed to tell Megan; I figured she'd be happy to see her best friend with one of her favorite cousins. True to form, Megan was happy for me, but she also encouraged me to think logically. Did I want to jump into something with Seamus so soon after he and John broke up? She felt like I should insist we slow things down and give him time to process the breakup and move on before trying for anything serious. It wasn't what I wanted to hear - or do - but I was mature enough to know that Megan was right. When she told me that John was still living in the apartment with Seamus, I felt a stab of dread in my stomach. I'd assumed that Seamus had kicked John out, that John had gone to live with his mother until he could find a new place. What guarantee did I have that they wouldn't reconcile, since they were still cohabitating?

Seamus continued to text me, assuring me that he was done with John and that he wanted me. I used my best judgement and laid down the law per Megan's suggestion. It wasn't a good idea to rush into a relationship hot off the heels of another - failed and unresolved - relationship. I did consent to date, on the condition that he knew it wasn't going to end with sex. I had never been on a date before, and although Seamus hadn't been remotely close to who I'd envisioned taking me on my first date, I couldn't help but feel excited. I'd always assumed that all the things I'd been bullied for in school - being gay and weird would keep me from ever feeling like I was any semblance of normal.

A few days later, Seamus stopped texting me as much; when he did reply, he didn't flirt or anything - he was very short and bland. I started to fear that my worst nightmare - in that situation - had come true, but I wasn't ready to acknowledge it, so I played along. Finally, Seamus told me that we would not be going on a date - he and John were back together.

I was furious at Seamus for leading me on, for using me as a dopamine hit when his ego was crushed, but I was even more furious with myself for falling for it, for letting one sloppy blowjob and a non-consensual kiss make me think that I actually wanted to be with him. Of course, I couldn't date someone who was a strict top - while I was open to the possibility of bottoming, I wasn't going to be the full-time bottom; I got the impression that Seamus wasn't even remotely open to bottoming. I wasn't even certain that I was attracted to Seamus, as I lay in bed at night ruminating on it, I sometimes wondered if I only liked him for the attention he gave me. If someone hotter and more compatible came along, surely I would jump ship, right?

As Seamus tried to give me a half-assed apology, I decided to nip the entire situation in the bud. Like with all difficult times in my life, I decided to look to my icon, Carrie Bradshaw for inspiration; I was so mad that almost as if of their own volition, my fingers typed out one of her lines from the first part of the Sex and the City series finale "An American Girl in Paris (Part Une)" when Carrie finally lost it on Mr. Big: Don't call me ever again. Forget you know my number - in fact - forget you know my name!

It felt absolutely amazing to stand up for myself and to tell Seamus off. He had known what he was doing: he had known that things with John were rocky, so he'd groomed me to be his backup plan; it was clear that he couldn't be single. He had literally broken up with John and then asked me out within five minutes - I couldn't be with someone so impulsive, someone with the constant need to be loved, adored, and desired. Seamus had nothing to say in response, but deep down I knew that he didn't feel bad about what he'd done.

Once again, I should have just washed my hands of the situation - blocked Seamus and gone about my life - but I was young and naive. I wasn't strong enough to completely sever ties with him, because I knew that while I was angry, my feelings were still there and if he apologized and tried to make it right, I'd give in and forgive him. Ah, to be young and stupid... Looking back on the situation now, I wish that I had been strong enough to just walk away; while the worst of it was over, there was still more to come before the final act, before curtain fell once and for all.