“Embarrassed? We lived and worked with…what, eight other gay men? You were embarrassed? They’d have accepted you in a heartbeat. The girls too. Everyone.”
“It’s complicated,” he snapped.
“Then simplify it.”
“You and me, we started out as friends. I wasn’t sure what I was, then. I knew I had feelings for men, but I also really liked you. Things just sort of happened between us, and I wasn’t sure how to bring it up with you after a while. What was I supposed to do, sit you down six months into our relationship and be like, ‘hey, by the way, I know we’re dating and all, but I think I may also like men?’”
“Yes, that would have worked just fine for me.”
“You’re delusional. You were in love with me. I didn’t want to hurt you, and I wasn’t sure if I was bi, or if I was lying to myself about being in love with you, or if I loved you emotionally but wasn’t in love with you. It was confusing. I didn’t know what I wanted.”
“So you just kept dating me, but went off and screwed around with men on the side, without telling me?”
“I wasn’t screwing around. I was figuring myself out.”
“Well you should have had the decency to break up with me, or at least tell me what was going on. Not just let me keep thinking we were in love.” I sniffled, working hard to hold back the real breakdown I knew was coming.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Cassandra.”
“Thanks.” I wiped my eyes. “So is that why you dumped me after the accident?”
“It was a lot of things, really. The accident just…shook me up. I should have died, almost did. I should have permanent brain damage, like, be a vegetable. But I don’t, I’m not. I’m alive. But I’m a mess. My emotions are all over the place. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know if I’m going to go back to dancing. I don’t know what I want to do. I woke up from a coma, which I was in for three weeks. You know what it’s like to lose three weeks of your life? I know, it could have been longer. I’m lucky to have woken up from it at all. And yes, it made me realize I’d been stringing you along, playing games with you, being unfair to you.” A long silence. “I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“I forgive you.” I sighed.
“What brought this on? Why call me about this now, months later, at three in the morning?”
I groaned. “It’s complicated.”
“Simplify it.” He laughed, a good-natured chuckle. “I do know you better than just about anyone, in some ways. I bet I can guess.”
I laughed. “Okay, go for it.”
“You’re trying to get over everything. You’re still healing because your leg is all fucked up, right? You can’t dance, or not anytime soon. I broke up with you, and now you’re obsessively going over everything in your head. And you were thinking through our relationship, wondering where you went wrong.”
Wow. I mean, just wow. The arrogance in that statement was breathtaking.
“No, actually, Richard.” I used his fancy new French pronunciation. “I was realizing how unsatisfied I was sexually the entire time I was with you. Like, trying to figure out why I was ever with you in the first place. You never made me come, you know that? Never. Not once. Most of the time, like ninety-nine point…like…five percent of the time we had sex, I waited until you were asleep, and then I finished myself off.”
I sighed, then continued. “So no, I wasn’t wondering where I went wrong, I was wondering what I missed, like, why was I so unsatisfied with you? I know I have a really powerful libido, but even taking that into consideration, our sex life was really kind of…pathetic. And I couldn’t figure out why. Then, it hit me. You just weren’t interested in me. You didn’t want me. It wasn’t me, like at all. I wasn’t the problem. You just didn’t want me. And listen, I know men have different tastes in women, okay? Like, I know some guys may not be into a girl who looks like me, short and thin, small boobs and butt, super athletic. But I’m horny. Like, all the fucking time. I was after you, all…the…time. Most guys I know would give their literal left nut to be with a girl like me, even if I’m not his preferred physical type. I also know, types aside, I’m pretty. So, your lack of interest, in all probability, wasn’t because of anything to do with me, but with you. If it was you, then what possible reason could there be for you to not be sexually interested in a horny, attractive woman who was in love with you?”
“Cassie—”
“And the obvious answer is that you’re just not into women at all. And once I realized that, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I missed all the signs the whole time. The fact that you were always going off and hanging out with the other guys. The other gay guys. Clubbing together, shopping, everything. You did everything with those guys.” I growled. “And then there was the fact that you could be backstage with all of us girls, and we’d have to do a quick change, and you wouldn’t even look. Not once, let alone twice. At any of us.”
“That doesn’t make me an asshole.”
“No, it doesn’t. You just weren’t interested. It all just started making sense. If you were really a straight guy in that situation, you would have looked, and then turned away. I’ve danced with straight men before, obviously, and they’re professionals. But they’re still aware that they’re straight and it’s not weird, not a thing, just a fact.” I sighed. “But that’s not you.”
“So?”
“So, it just hit me all at once, and now I feel like a complete moron for not realizing it sooner.” I let the silence grow. “So that’s it. I just needed that confirmation. Thanks.”
“It was that bad for you?”
I laughed. “You really care?”
“I mean, yeah? Sort of. I guess I thought it was pretty good between us.”
“Of course you would, you selfish ballsack! You got off, every time. I did everything I could to make sure you always felt good, that you knew I wanted you, that I appreciated you, that I was attracted to you. I did things for you. So yeah, you wouldn’t think it was bad, because I went out of my way to make it good for you.”
He was stunned silent by that. “I…”
“There’s nothing to say.” I dragged my hand through my hair. “I was just an idiot, and wasted four years with you. And now I’m fucked up in the head and heart because of you. And you know what? I’m not accepting all the blame for it, Rick. I’m not. I should have seen it sooner, yeah. I should’ve known that sexual things aside, you just weren’t thinking about me, didn’t really care about me. But you were lying. And that’s what fucking kills me. If you’d been honest, I probably would have been okay giving you space to figure things out. Instead, you played a game. You pretended. You lied. You cheated. And that puts the blame squarely on you.” I sighed, bitter. “I just wish that helped me feel better about myself. But it doesn’t, and that’s not your problem. Not that it ever was, clearly.”
“That’s not fair, I was—”