The Boyfriend Chronicles: Darren
The Boyfriend Chronicles: Darren
June 1999
Darren. What a disaster. I’ve always said (well, since 1999 anyway) that if there was one guy I could erase from my past, it would be him. He is my ‘What was I thinking?‘ guy.
It wasnt that he wreaked all kinds of havoc with my emotional life, or that we had some long, drawn-out, drama-draped trainwreck of a relationship. Fact is, we were together for such a miniscule amount of time, I’m not sure if we were together at all. Which is why it’s so regrettable; there was abso-fucking-lutely nothing gained, not even a good ‘moral of the story’ lesson I could take with me.
It all started so fortuitously. How often do you get to rewrite history in your favor? I was climbing onto an expensive bureau in the ridiculously opulent reception area of my office, preparing to brightly color in the dismal sales numbers on the gigantic whiteboard when Darren walked in. We’d known each other since childhood and had usually been on opposite sides of whatever fence divides the high school crowd into ‘people you like’ and ‘people you’d rather die a slow horrible death than spend time with.’ Only the guy in the doorway wasnt the skinny, pale, badly-dressed kid I remembered; it was a muscular, sweaty, deeply-tanned hottie with bright blue eyes and a grin that widened as he surveyed my hiked-up skirt where I was frozen mid-climb. My conversation reflected my discomfiture brilliantly.
“Uh, hey. Wow. Darren.”
“Hey. Jill. Wow. Didn’t know you work here.”
“Yeah, I’m um writing, um on the whiteboard. Here.”
“I’m the I have a um landscaping business.”
It was painful, really, and I have no idea how we got past the initial cotton-mouthed, verbally-challenged nervousness to the part where he asked me out and I accepted. The next thing I remember, we were meeting another couple in the parking lot of my apartment, one of whom was yet another guy I went to high school with. I guess some people have trouble moving past that period of their lives. I wasn’t one of them, but I remembered liking Greg and was willing to at least try to have a good time. The two of them talked about other classmates I hadn’t seen since graduation until I started to get a little annoyed at being unceremoniously hauled back to a time I’d rather forget.
We went to a well-known club in a city unfamiliar to me. Greg and his wife danced while Darren and I made out by the bar until the bouncer threatened us with expulsion. We drank and danced some more before retiring to the double hotel room Greg had reserved for the night. He didn’t seem that drunk to me, but I was nevertheless impressed at his taking such a judicious precaution. Then he busted out the bong and I realized the room was for partying, not sleeping off the effects of the booze. I sat on the edge of the second bed while the other three tried hard to get a buzz off what turned out to be a sadly ineffective bag of pot. Then Greg and his wife gave up and dove under the covers to continue their private party, at which point Darren and I ignored them in favor of doing a little undercover work of our own.
It was all going perfectly until he asked me if I’d like to go up to Greg’s place in New York for the weekend, all expenses paid. Of course I said yes, but immediately regretted it when he informed me, “You’ll be doing Ecstasy, you know.” I stopped what I was doing and stared.
“Oh, I will, will I?” I couldn’t keep the belligerence out of my voice.
“Yeah, everybody does it. It’s awesome.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes at his use of the ‘everybody’s doing it’ argument.
“Whatever. Not interested.”
He shrugged and we both rolled over, suddenly bored with the entire evening. The one other time I went out with him, the sex was so forgettable and the conversation so utterly, completely, mind-meltingly stupid, I realized why we hadn’t gotten along in high school. It wasn’t because he was goofy-looking, it was because he was an idiot. Worse, he was an idiot who thought he was really smart and would spend hours running his mouth without his brain engaged in order to prove it.
I don’t remember who stopped calling who, but eventually I was relieved to realize we were no longer speaking. There have been other, more disastrous encounters, but his was the only name I cringed at adding to The List. Some people are better left in the past, especially the ones who like it there.
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