Enter the Slum Lord

As I have hinted at before, I've been spending a lot of time with the Diplomat lately. Part of the reason for that was just the way the circumstances fell- I was swamped with schoolwork so I couldn't spend a lot of time going out. Even so, it was a conscious choice to keep seeing the Diplomat even as I was telling everyone else I was busy. I really like spending time with him. He's smart, he's funny, he's sweet- and those are just the beginning. Lately, every time I spend the night at his house he makes breakfast in the morning. That may not sound like such a big thing, except that he doesn't (or didn't) usually eat breakfast. There have also been multiple occasions when him making breakfast turned into him bringing me breakfast in bed. I'm getting spoiled, let me tell you!

Still, with all this time that we were spending together, I had only met his friends once. When he asked me to go out with him to Korean BBQ with a bunch of his college friends, I was apprehensive but I agreed. The first time I met these people, I got way too drunk and acted like an absolute fool. Even worse, I didn't find out about how I'd acted until after. That's the thing about getting drunk, I suppose- you think you're totally pulling it off, while everyone around you is scared. Apparently, and I am still ashamed to even admit this, at one point I was rubbing on the Diplomat's friend's leg. What kind of person does that?? Not the person I thought I was.

So like I said, I was nervous to be seen around these friends again, but I figured if the Diplomat and I are going to keep dating, I'm going to need to be able to face his friends.

We were the first ones to the restaurant (it seems the Diplomat and I are the only ones that feel bad when we're not punctual.) Then his friends started trickling in. They included his two best friends, one of whom lives out of town now, the other best friend's sort-of-girlfriend, a bunch of the guys they went to college with, and a couple people they play on an indoor soccer team with.

Things got off to a rocky start. When the best friend that lives in town, Slum Lord, walked in the room, the first words out of his mouth were, "Hi Date Slut. Move over." W.T.F?? I was immediately put on edge. (And for the record, I did not move over.) That man seriously rubs me the wrong way. He acts like everyone should do what he says, just because he says it. He's rude and abrasive, especially to women. For god's sake, he refers to his sort-of-girlfriend as "38," because that's how old she was when they started dating. Call me a femi-nazi if you must, but that is just not okay.

Even with Slum Lord being dickish throughout dinner, the experience was mostly enjoyable. I felt like I was being really quiet, but I still managed to get to know some of the Diplomat's soccer friends a little better. When dinner was over, they decided to go to a nearby bar for drinks. I was getting tired and feeling cranky, but I put on my best brave face and tried to enjoy it as much as I could. And I did enjoy parts of it. The Diplomat's best friend that lived out of town seemed like a lot of fun, and I wish we'd gotten to hang out more. The soccer friends were sweet. His other college guy friends didn't say two words to me, but the Diplomat said afterwards that he thinks it's mostly because they're intimidated by women. What I really appreciated the most was when I texted the Diplomat to let him know that I was ready to go home, he made his polite excuses and bowed out for us instead of brushing me off or blaming it on me. That meant a lot to me.

That was several weeks ago, at the beginning of finals time. The weekend before I went out of town, the Diplomat invited a bunch of his friends over for ribs at his house. These were mostly people he plays soccer with- in fact, they might have all been soccer friends. I'm not entirely positive. Regardless, Slum Lord was there again. When I expressed my disinterest in seeing Slum Lord again, the Diplomat predicted that things would be better this time around, as Slum Lord tends to be less of a chauvinist around this group of friends.

The Diplomat was right, and things actually went better with him this third time around. He wasn't nearly as dickish. There was still some clear animosity between us, though. I think I shocked him at the end of the night when most everyone else had left, when I turned to him and asked point-blank, "Why do you hate me?" He said, "I don't hate you, I just don't trust you yet, and I don't like change." I think that sounds like a cop-out. I think it would have been much more honest if he'd said, "I don't like you for my friend," or, "You acted like a total ass the first time we met," or, "I hate everyone until I get to know them."

Either way, he's the Diplomat's friend. That means it doesn't matter how I feel about him, I'm not going to say bad things about him to the Diplomat or try to keep them from hanging out, or any of those other ridiculous things some girlfriends do. It does mean that I am going to be nice when we do hang out, and maybe someday we'll actually kind of like each other. But I'm not holding my breath.

Booty-call Buddies

McCool and I still haven't managed to get together since the one night of amazing sex. We've talked, though- I just can't ever get him to commit to a time to see each other. While our conversations had been sporadic at best, right after his hear attack they picked up a lot. My first instinct was to try and help however I could, and that mostly meant keeping him company online while he was recovering in the hospital.

Somewhere in the course of those conversations, we got on the topic of what can only tenuously be called our relationship. He professes to still want to see me, but it has finally sunk in that he is never going to make time for me. Still, I'm not one to give up an amazing bed partner without a fight.

With that in mind, we discussed the possibility of becoming each other's “designated booty call.” After all, we both like sex, and we both like each other. It makes perfect sense, right?

Unfortunately, the first few times he tried to test the new system came in the midst of my end-of-semester craziness. As much as it pained me, I had to turn him down. I was in a self-imposed exile that was only lifted for the Diplomat. Finally, though, I couldn't stand it anymore and needed a break. I called McCool, only for him to say that he was hosting friends for a Lost party and couldn't get together.

Call me crazy, but a booty call only works when the two people can managed to both be free at the same time. On the one hand, this makes me feel a little better-it means that we really do have incompatible schedules. The fact that we only went out two and a half times wasn't just him being a jerk. Still, I'm left with a bad taste in my mouth about the whole situation. If he really liked me that much, he could have made time for me.

I'm willing to continue giving this booty call thing a chance now that the semester crush is over. If he's always the one making the successful calls, though, I don't see the arrangement lasting long.