Do you remember the formula for finding the surface area of
a 3-D cone? I sure as hell don’t and I bet you don’t either (unless you are
studying for the GMAT, g-d help you).
Regardless, I’m sure you understand the basics of a love triangle. Well this story is not about a love triangle,
it’s about a love vector. So- because
you may well have forgotten what a vector is- its a “geometric object that has a magnitude (or length) and direction.” Let’s go back in time so I can better
explain:
Stressed was just a young innocent in high school (really, I
was!). But I had a big crush on this
artsy yet athletic boy in my class and I’m not feeling very original so we’ll
call him The Artist. However, I was not
exactly the coolest or prettiest girl at school therefore making the
responsiveness level for any flirtation quite low.
But gal’s gotta keep her options open. There happened to be another similarly
cute-and-artsy-yet-still-a-jock boy at another school in the area who expressed
more interest in me. Let’s call him
Grande (for reasons to be elaborated upon later). Anyway, after much anticipation Grande became
my first kiss – ever- when we made out in my friend’s basement. However, I was so nervous and he was so tall
that I was literally trembling and on my tip toes almost the whole time. It was all very embarrassing and became even
more so when I found out that a friend of a friend was in fact his GIRLFRIEND.
Awkward.
As for The Artist, we made out randomly during beach week my
senior year and the next day his friends had him call me and ask if I would
come clean the house they had rented for the week. I was a notorious neat freak
but this was a low blow. Other than the
occasional update from fellow class mates, that was the last I heard of either
of these semi-concurrent high school melodramas.
Ok, so now let’s return to present day (ok fine, like 3
years ago). I’m a single girl, new to
NYC and I happen to run into The Artist on the street one day. Naturally I say hi because apparently I just
like torturing myself, and I’m not going to lie, it was good to see that The
Artist had gotten a little fatter and had a little less hair. Anyway, we swap numbers and he invites me to
a party at his apartment on Friday night.
Clearly I have nothing better to do and so Friday night I’m buzzing in
to a roof-level apartment somewhere near 96th and 2nd
Ave. The Artist had mentioned that he
had several roommates….turns out one of them is Grande. “Oh dear g-d,” I’m
thinking to myself “I thought there were 8 million people in this city, why do
these two guys have to be roommates!?!” Worst of all, Grande has gotten hotter.
A lot hotter. Stressed has a crush and
it is difficult to hide.
This is where the vector metaphor becomes relevant:
The Artist à
Stressed à
Grandeà ????
(not Stressed)
(There’s no triangle, because Grande seems too oblivious or
too cool to reflect the appropriate sentiments toward me.)
Somehow I survive the initial trauma of interacting with
these two guys at the same time. The
Artist, being far more interested in me and having been the one to find me,
gets ‘dibs’ I suppose. So we go on a few
dates and he is a very sweet guy, really.
I don’t know if he was just an ass in high school or if it was peer
pressure that made him act like such a jerk.
Unluckily for him though, that ship has sailed and I’m not interested at
this point. But he’s is trying so damn
hard I feel like giving him a chance.
See example: I mentioned that I hate cut flowers because I think it’s
like bringing a girl a dead (or dying) animal, just weird. I’d much rather get a potted plant that will
continue to live. Two days later I
arrive home and my doorman tells me after work that I have 4 plants waiting for
me outside my apartment.
Boy. That.
Actually. Listens…?
Seems worth investigating.
So I keep getting tugged along on the romance track with The Artist but
really I know that I’m much more interested in Grande and I’m frankly not sure
how The Artist does not notice. At this
point I’m stuck though; no way to see Grande without going through The
Artist. These two guys are basically
joined at the hip. One weekend we are all hanging out and I get drunk and start
coming on to Grande pretty hard, bringing the situation painfully into the light. The Artist is not happy, and I really do feel
bad about it. However, he seems to be cool enough to get over it we are able to
make a successful jump to the parallel friend vector.
Fast forward 2 years. Stressed, you have outdone yourself
and have somehow managed to remain friends with both The Artist and
Grande. They are of course still
roommates and I find myself often going out to Brooklyn (I know, if that isn’t a
true friend, what is!?) to hang out, go to a museum etc. I should add that going out to Brooklyn is a
little more enticing given that I still have a crush on Grande.
So February rolls around and it’s my birthday. I have never been in to throwing myself a
huge party or anything like that so I just invite 7-8 people – including the
dynamic duo- over to hang out.
Unfortunately, it’s snowing so these guys are the only ones that show up
(except for my 2 roommates, who eventually go to bed). As the night goes on and we drink more, it
seems apparent that The Artist has relinquished whatever “I found her first”
claims he may have had over me and Grande actually seems interested. Poof,
vector now looks like this:
(The Artist ) Stressed àß
Grande
The Artist goes home without his blood brother, a sure sign
that he has given his blessing for us to hook up. Well happy birthday to me!
Now in case it wasn’t clear before, Grande is named such
because he is about 6’4 and I will say that the rule about tall men proved very
true in this case and. Given that I’m a
fairly petite 5’3, birthday sex turned out to be a pain. Enough so that I was
not interested in repeating the experience.
However, Grande seemed to feel otherwise. He was very gentlemanly and took me to
breakfast. He then called the next day
to say he had a good time etc. And then I ignored his subsequent texts asking
to hang out for the next 10 days or so. What was I supposed to say? “Your too….ummm…. large for me?”
A few more days went by with no contact and then I received a
Facebook message from him saying a number of things one of which was “You are
the best sex I ever had.” I tell you
this not to brag but to express my utter bewilderment as to how our lines could
have crossed in such a terribly inconsistent way. I felt I owed him a direct
call telling him it wasn’t going to work.
Well that call pissed of both members of the dynamic duo and they cut me
off, which was really painful because I had enjoyed hanging out with them quite
a bit over the 2 years we had been reacquainted.
I ran into The Artist at a new year’s party about a year later. We said an awkward hello and he told me he
was going to get a masters in art in Atlanta.
As for Grande, I had the unique joy of sitting next to him and his new
girlfriend (who looked just like me btw) on a 4 hr bus ride home to DC. I spent the whole time pretending to watch
Mad Men on my laptop but was secretly trying to listen in on their conversation.
Vectors do not bend and they certainly to not make 180
degree turns. If they do, something is very wrong.
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