I cheated on Dan and that's why I got in a car accident.
....
Perhaps I should start at the beginning....
Back in college, I kept track of all my adventures in the dating world in a simple little blog called ujournal....the site went kaput so I moved over to greatestjournal which took a couple of years to also go dead. Both websites are now gone. I had nowhere left to write. But then again, I had also lost my desire to write. I was 24, through with college, and in a healthy relationship with Dan.
Oh, but he deserves an explanation all to himself: the reason I began to blog about my exploits was because of him. He had two years of my life all to himself. We were in our senior year of high school and very much in love. College took us to opposite ends of the country and we tried desperately to stay together...but then life happened, as it always does and we moved on with different people. Rather, I began to chase after boys who were flippant about me and Dan sped away into a 3 year relationship with a massive bitch. I typed and typed to maintain sanity. To heal myself. To give myself closure. To document failed hook-ups and lament failed relationships. It was 3 years of dating and so much Goddamn bullshit from guys.
I had just made it over alive from a really bad breakup...it was summer of 2007 and I was broken. I had been out of college only a year. Dan called me out of the blue. Any rage or ill feelings from our past had subsided. I was ready to be happy again. Slowly we returned to our old tricks and were back as a couple. It was better now. We had well paying jobs, cars and freedom. Things were looking up.
We progressed. And with progression comes all the nasty/wonderful things about being a couple. Fights, squabbles, figuring out who pays what, deciding what you want to do that night, sex, getting on each other's nerves, trips to Vegas, fun with friends, drinks, pot, how much should I tip? Mother's Day gifts, birthdays, parties, hotel rooms, jealousy, name-calling, concerts, flowers "just cuz" and on and on, etc. etc.
We were scarcely a couple one year when I decided now would be a good time to cheat.
I really don't think that's how the thought process went. I think it was Fourth of July weekend and I was out getting hammered with my co-workers. Dan wasn't going to see me that night because my booze breath was visible through the phone. I was in no shape ready to meet up with him to go swimming in La Mirada, more than 30 miles away. It was getting too late for a swim, so I concentrated on sobering up...and trying to find a different distraction.
Edgar Cruz was a boy I dated off and on in college. I had harbored a huge crush on him as a high school freshman. By the time I was single and a college sophomore, all I wanted was to score with him as a favor to my former, geeky 14 year old self.
Edgar is your typical insecure Mexican American college boy. Loves to romance, flirt and exchange bodily fluids but when it comes to forming a long, lasting meaninful relationship, he's out the door...speeding away in his cute little 2-door Solara. Our cellphones were our undoing.
He texted me, called me even though he knew about Dan. He had done this prior with all my former "steady" boyfriends. He felt, I don't know, that he could lay claims to me ever since that night I blew him in his car during Spring Break. He disguised this as "keeping in touch."
At first, it was very easy to ignore his call. Angrily hang up or erase his texts. But then my resistance started to crumble. I was horny, drunk and had been courteously dismissed by my loving boyfriend. In the haze of my fourth Mai-Tai, I remembered Edgar had dialed me a few nights previous. Surely he'd still be in for a good time. I don't know why impulse won, but it did. Maybe I was mad at something Dan had done earlier in the week...maybe I was just born rotten.
July 2008. I gave Edgar a blow job and riddled myself with guilt for weeks, months....
It was thrilling but stupid. Edgar sporadically contacted me here and there....I never forgot and neither did he. We didn't start to justify our actions until the next time.
June 2009. Edgar had called me earlier in the night to tell me the good news: he was finally done with undergrad and was getting ready for his LSATS. I kept my voice barely above a whisper as I congratulated him....Dan hovered around me and I could feel myself sweating under the hot lights of the comic book store. He asked who that was, I said it was someone from Berkeley. We walked to another book store and I feverishly texted Edgar back. I wanted him. Why? WHY? Dan and I had just finished walking around Walmart, another night of no sex and no real plans. Bored, we both went home. The evil cellphone lit up. I waited patiently for more than an hour, waiting for Edgar to show up at my house before sneaking off. He was drunk. I was insatiable. We promised to never do this again because it was wrong. But it was a bold faced lie. I accidentally left my cell in his car along with my sweater. I didn't sleep that night, trying desperately for a good cover story. The following day, I lied so much I wanted to vomit. I got him to return the phone...we were undetected. Nobody knew.
By now, I am having problems with my conscience and with God. I know I am skating on thin ice. I feel like the sin inside of me is black bile. At any moment, I will throw it all up.
Last week, Edgar calls again...surprised that he'd find me after feeling so guilty the last time, I decide to see if he's serious. I turn him down twice to hang out. I know that hang out means BLOW ME.
Saturday night, Dan and I adjourn early. We're set to move in together and have spent the better half of the day turning in our application for a cute little 1-bedroom in Reseda. The odds are in our favor. I am ready to move out and get serious.
This is our last chance. Our last time to get what Edgar and I most desire. Time alone to talk, laugh and make out. His reasons are different than my reasons. We both arrive at the same conclusion: hedonism beats out having good morals. Perhaps in future entries I can explain why I enjoyed spending time in the shadows with a guy everyone thinks I hate.
We drove all around Downtown Los Angeles, Pasadena and Whittier before parking the car in our assigned spot. Bexley Street, where Dan and I used to go fuck back when we had no standards. It had now become our spot. Depeche Mode's "Free Love" came on just as we began to kiss each other all over. "Enjoy the Silence" followed and he came in my mouth before the song was over.
"Good luck on your new life" he said as I stumbled out of his car. One last, long drawn out kiss. I wished him the best, too in law school, life and everything else. "Stay this way. Stay skinny, keep wearing your Lawrence Arms shirts and Cons. Don't let anybody tell you that you're not good enough" I gulped...I hit my head on his car door on my way out.
That was it.
No, it wasn't. Dan saw my dialed calls to Edgar the next night on our way to see Depeche Mode. I yelped that he had called ME and I was merely returning the call. I lied again and said Edgar was also going to the show. Yeah. Right.
I got a flat tire at the show. That sharp piece of plastic might as well have gone through my miserable, guilt ridden heart.
Some dick stole the plastic screens that go under my headlights of my car. I felt helpless.
Then I got in an accident. With Dan in the car.
I am paying for all that I've done. I am cursed. God has turned his back on me, and rightfully so. Now everytime something unfair or stupid happens to me, I can look up at the heavens and say, I DESERVE THAT.
Starting this journal is my meager attempt to try and turn the tide. I need to confess because I don't feel like my religion can save me right now. I am scum and I don't deserve anyone's pity.
I did this to myself.
