Wednesday, August 4, 2010

72. Celibacy

When I accepted the internship at the sports magazine, I thought Sweet, I'll probably be working with a bunch of sexy, smart, male journalists. Well, after two years of journalism classes and working in my college's student media department, I'd learned NOT to look for men there.

I don't know why I thought it would be any different in the real world. The only difference at the sports magazine was the fact that all of the men were at least 15 years older than me. Well, aside from the awkward male intern I shared a closet of an office with. And the only women there were obsessed with sports. Not that that's a bad thing. I grew up a St. Louis Cardinals fan (I had a HUGE crush on Brian Jordan and John Mabry) and at the Big XII university I was attending, not liking football just wasn't an option.

The lack of male options in the office was probably a good thing, being that I'd planned on clearing my mind of boys for the summer. So instead, I spent the time getting to know my cousins. I hadn't spent much time with them since I'd moved away from St. Louis years before, back when they were probably all under the age of 10.

So I spent my nights watching scary movies with 15-year-old Mischa, playing board games with 12-year-old Kati, and painting my toenails with 9-year-old Chloe. We all ate dinner together around the table. It was exactly what I needed: girl time. I also befriended the girl who lived in the house behind my aunt and uncle's. She was a year older than me, but she introduced me to all of her friends, and made sure I had a great time that summer. My workout plan may have failed, but my summer of celibacy was a success.

Well, an extreme side effect of celibacy is an overwhelming desire to get some action. So when I got back from St. Louis, I did the worst thing I could have done: I let Casey back in my bed. I knew I couldn't turn to Will for attention, because I'd hurt him. There's no possible way of hurting Casey. So as long as I could keep Casey from hurting me, I was A-OK with our 5-night-a-week sleepovers.

It took a while, but Will threw a patch over his heart and eventually we went back to best friends. I never wore the ring around him, but if I accidently ran into him on campus on a day I was wearing it, I quickly turned the hearts to the inside of my hand. I tried my hardest not to flirt with him, not to take advantage of his genuine goodness, but I always wanted to be around him. I always wanted to flirt with him. I always wanted him to want to protect me and take care of me.

What was my problem?

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