Tuesday, May 11, 2010

The Friendly, Platonic Bed

Conspiracy Theory always emphasized friendship. He and I were friends. That word – friends – would come up again and again throughout our relationship, even years after we broke up. And it came up the first night he asked me to stay over at his apartment.

I wasn't invited over as a potential girlfriend or a potential lover. I was invited over as a friend.

Conspiracy had recently moved into a beautiful two-bedroom apartment a couple blocks west of the Yale campus. The floors in his apartment were shiny, blond hardwood. The floors in mine were old, dark hardwood.

I had recently run my hands down the rickety banister in my building, splotched with peeling, dark green paint, and gotten a splinter. When I told Conspiracy Theory, he scoffed. The landlords who rented to Yale students were slumlords. They knew we would only be there for a semester, so they didn't put any money into the place and they didn't care if we complained. I shouldn't have to live in a place like that.

I roomed with two other girls. One was the same year and the same residential college as me. Even though she was two inches shorter, 20 pounds heavier and three shades darker than me, the white kids couldn't tell us apart. The other girl was a year ahead of us, a senior. She was Korean-American, from California and a rock star who'd been tapped by a secret society.

There was nothing wrong with my roommates, no overt conflicts, no drama.

I just didn't feel close to either of them. I felt alone and invisible in my own apartment, even if I was sitting at the dinner table, holding a conversation.

So I spent more and more time with Conspiracy Theory, who offered interesting conversation, complimentary observations and my favorite, free meals.

He invited me to stay the night at his place, even though he only had one bed, a full-size futon.

He assured me that we were friends. And friends could share a bed without it being weird or even sexual in nature.

I took him at his word, and climbed into his friendly, platonic bed.

Some time before daylight, things got decidedly less platonic. There was kissing. There was touching. And there was Conspiracy Theory whispering in my ear, "Thank you so much for the gift that you're giving me."

Oh, my God, he thinks I'm a virgin.

It was a surreal moment.

I was a bit shocked by the sexual overture, but not at all unwilling. It wasn't a bad experience ...

... until I realized I'd been had. In a totally premeditated way.

He had stashed condoms under his pillow. He'd planned to have sex with me all along. All that friendship crap had been a ruse to get me into his bed.

I didn't push him away, I didn't recoil, and I didn't confront him about his little white lie.

The condom-under-the-pillow incident became a microscopic stain on our relationship that only I could see. It was the secret betrayal I never got over, never forgot and never talked about to anyone because it was proof positive that I was gullible and stupid.

Conspiracy Diaries Part 3 of 25 (1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25)
Conspiracy Lessons Learned 1-4 (1 2 3 4)


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9 comments:

The Naked Writer said...

HA lol thanks for the excellent laugh! I am so happy to have found your site! Condoms under pillows oh me oh my...i love it!
I just wrote a post on quiffing and blowjobs, maybe you would like to read it? (shameless plug i know, but how else do you find divas who are into the same stuff as you are right?)
keep up the great work, you are fearless and i love it!
http://www.thewritingwomb.com

izzie said...

You were you... you were "growing"... he just noticed it before you and took it is own way.

At least we all now can laugh about it ;)

Love,

Andrea said...

Just stumbled across your blog. I LOVE the title - hilarious.

Anonymous said...

I have learned that guys who like to "befriend" single women are after sex. I can't keep any straight male friends because they all try to make moves. There was a recent experience with this. I met someone in a group setting and he always called us friends. We spent more time together as friends, and he started calling four times times a day, texting, etc. He told me the real reason he called so much to talk, said I wasn't interested, he said we could still be friends. I now no longer need to worry about how to tell him to stop calling so much (just once a day). He stopped calling completely.

Sex Toys said...

I really love your post.


Based on my knowledge "Conspiracy Theory" assists in this objectivity by maintaining the quality of research methodology and interpretation of results.

Luscious Sealed Lips said...

Big shit. You had sex with him. And you knew what you were getting into. You saw it. Better knowing about it than not knowing the entire conspiracy at all. And if you gave in, its okay. I have come to realize, sex is not about being gullible after a time. You know you got a booty call and why not answer it. ;)

Kisses.

elizabeth said...

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O.F.C.J. said...

Wow. Yeah. Things like this are completely unaccceptable, regardless of what anyone else says. I hate when we (and by "we", I mean humans) make these mistakes. It's like all along we know somehting, Something, isn't right. But we excuse it. I've had moments, though not in this category, like that. I'm so glad you write this blog. I'm glad you've learned these lessons. That you know better now, and can share that knowledge with others. Yay :)


O.F.C.J.

Lion-ess said...

condoms under the pillow.. classic!
Love your writings.

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