The second-to-last guy I ever dated (AKA run like hell when your boyfriend shaves other men’s backs!)

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The last summer I dated boys started with plans for my then boyfriend, soon to be fiance, to drop out of his PhD programme and move across the country to be with me. I broke up with him. I then dated – god help me – a gay guy. Oh yes, you read that right.

He worked at camp with me – we had very few males, and it was always a surprise to me that I always had a boyfriend when there were 60 0ther young women all competing for them. Especially when I just didn’t give a damn; I was there to have fun. And not that kind of fun. Lest you think I am big headed, let me tell you about this particular camp relationship.

You might want to make a s’more or something, cause this is a campfire tale for sho’.

Let’s say this guy’s name was Ruben – that seems suitably poncy. (Apologies to any Rubens reading this.)

His ass was stuck to me like glue. We had a lot of fun – we’d sit out all night talking under the stars, no hint of any sort of romance. Except, you know, I looked more forward to hanging out with him than I did ever seeing my boyfriend again. We were kind of shadow self best friends. We dressed up as twins for Twins Meals. We made matching baby slings for our stuffed animals. (Fuck, I SUCK! I am so gross as a human being!)

It was all gravy and rainbows and freewheeling camping weekends – right up to the point when he turned into an asshole.

That first bit happened when he heard I’d come out as a bisexual. (How I identified then, not how I identify now.) He muttered some bullshit about, ‘Having had enough of bi girls.’ Um, okay. I guess his last girlfriend was bi or something. During this time I’d broken up with my boyfriend – and remember asking him (the ex, not Ruben) how it felt to kiss me. He said the world shifted. I told him I felt like I was kissing a block of concrete. Jesus, the cruelty of the nineteen year old closeted lesbian who was pissed off.

That left me free and clear to date Ruben. Uh, mistake.

We kissed once or twice and it was…dull. It was while watching ‘Amistad’ at my mom’s house, and I actually fell asleep. Still, I think I was reeling from ending a very serious relationship and didn’t want to give up on my friend? boyfriend? Ruben.

Even when he took me to visit his friend. Now, this is the part where you put your s’more down because otherwise you might choke and die. RUBEN WENT TO THIS GUY’S HOUSE TO SHAVE HIS BACK. Or at least that’s the cover story. Yeah, his friend was so fucking hairy he needed to PAY RUBEN TO SHAVE HIM. They disappeared into a bedroom (oh, Existere, slap your forehead now) and came out like an hour later. I sat uncomfortably on a couch that smelled of dog.

And then he became more of an asshole. Bossiness, talking smack to me at my mom’s house, etc. I was so over that shit. Stopped the friendship cold – because if someone you’ve just met already treats you like a dishrag, that is not a relationship that is going anywhere. Ever. (Except places you don’t want to go. Trust me.)

My mom, not realising I’d thrown him over, fucking calls camp. I put her on loudspeaker so all my friends can hear her decry him as a potential abuser, a guy just like my dad, an asshole of the highest order. We all giggled. She also sent a six page letter outlining her concerns.

The last day of camp came, and Ruben – after me ignoring him for weeks – came over to my car, stuck his head in the window, and pecked my lips before saying we’d have to get together. Yeeeeeah, I don’t think so.

Once I got back to university and met David (the aforementioned gay best friend and computer buyer), I told him this story. He got a look on his face.

The next time I saw David, he produced what had to be the best thing I’ve ever seen: a copy of our university’s gay magazine. On the COVER was a giant picture of Ruben sitting backwards on a chair, his lumberjack sleeves ripped off at the shoulder and a dandelion stuck in his hair. Yeah.

He wasn’t just an asshole, he was a GAY asshole that hated bisexual girls. What did he think would happen – I’d run off with a chick and he would no longer have a beard to help cover up his back shaving activities??

I can’t be the only person this has ever happened to. Can I?

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One Response to “The second-to-last guy I ever dated (AKA run like hell when your boyfriend shaves other men’s backs!)”

  1. TMD Says:

    I didn’t just giggle when your mom was on speaker phone… I peed my pants a little bit.

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