a dishonourable mention: Aux-1
First off, I should state that this individual didn’t make the kill list — for reasons you’ll discover by the end of this article. I am apprehensive about having make that decision and question if it’s even truthful but fuck it; it’s my narrative.
I am plagued with another issue — how do I refer to him if not by name, nor by number (since he hasn’t been assigned one), without denoting any identifiers or significant importance? An auxiliary — an add-on that supports the plot.
Aux-1 was my elementary school crush. I was assigned to sit next to him in grade 6 and didn’t understand what flirting was until I got called out for doing it. Turns out flirting is involuntarily making eyes, laughing at the right times, and catering your speech to their liking. As an autist (more on that later), I now realize why I’m so good at it.
I had my first sex dream about him, but since I was 11 it was pleasantly plumped with a story-book narrative; an evil witch tried to seduce him by allowing him to have sex with her, but she planned to use the opportunity to enslave him. So I volunteered to make the same offer in order to save his soul. How valiant of me, right? There were also Pokémon woven into the plot somehow, but what else would you expect of an 11 year-old.
To fully give you context, you need to understand that I very unexpectedly but fortunately grew into my looks and sense of self much later in life. I remember reading the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants, analyzing the characters as archetypes of women. It was very apparent that I was not a Lena, the beautiful and graceful Greek goddess than made men fall in love with her with a look. I was that weird one, that stayed back, befriends a dying kid and makes strange art films, whose name I don’t even remember because I disliked her character so much.
I distinctly remember having the realization that I was not ever going to be the effortlessly beautiful one, but I actively made a choice to at least be cool. A subjective term, but what I deemed to be “cool” was to be engaging, empathetic, involved in various activities and trying new things, always learning, being socially aware, authentic, amongst other things. And if only my younger self could see me now, she’d be quite proud. It also doesn’t hurt that somehow I did hit the genetic lottery; a cute ass face, sinfully soft caramel skin, and double Ds that would actually blow your mind.
But back then, boys only called me when they needed help with their math homework and I was amazing at calculus. You can imagine the sheer delight I felt when the most popular boy at school gave me any attention.
Late one night a few years ago, Aux-1 dm’d me on facebook. Very very unusual since we haven’t kept in touch. I had run into him randomly in the city at places I’ve worked at and he was having a night out but we’ve never messaged each other. It’s past 5 am, which definitely means he’s mostly likely done some blow and he begins going on and on about how he’s attracted to me even though I’m not his type, and he loves my vibe and offers to send an Uber to pick me up to go over to his place.
Truthfully, my first instinct was all of the grade school boys are hanging out somehow and this is a pig-blood-drop-on-Carrie-at-prom kind of high school prank and they were all secretly laughing at me. I had to convince myself that I was in fact 30 and they too were grown-ass adults, and the logistics of that happening were very unlikely. I did not end up going over but started semi-regular sexting/plans to meet up thing for a bit before he met me in real life, at a bar I worked at then and proceeded to make-out, do drugs in the bathroom and fool around in the back alley — not one of my more ladylike moments but this blog isn’t called prudes anonymous and was obviously going to be filled with some salacious content. Besides the weirdness of touching the penis of someone you’ve known since you were both prepubescent - it was pretty alright.
As we parted ways he tells me, “You know, my girlfriend would really like you… I think she’d be down for a threesome if it was with you.” And that folks, is how I found out he had a girlfriend. That he lived with.
I wish that was the end of the story. It really should be.
As unpopular of an opinion this may be, it is not my responsibility to keep other people faithful. I would never actively pursue someone in a relationship, but if they have already crossed that line — it’s really not about me, they’re going to be doing with someone anyway. And my inner grade 6 self just needed this to play itself out.
Some time later, I’m at a neighbourhood bar with some friends when Aux-1 and I decide to meet at mine for a quickie. And he definitely did not undersell. From the time he entered my front door and left, a total of 12 minutes had elapsed.
Allow me to paint you this picture:
- Aux-1 arrives, coked out more than I’ve seen any functional human being. I, who was previously concerned that I was a little too drunk, now felt very fucking sober.
- I cracked open a tall boy, and pour it out into two glasses.
- We headed upstairs to my room, he slammed his beer and then tried to drink mine. umm fuck no.
- I guess we started making out, and started hooking up, my pants didn’t make it entirely off and we kind of just lay on top of my duvet and yes sometimes that can be hot. This I promise you, was far from that. I truly thought he was about to dislocate his jaw with how aggressively it was oscillating back and forth but honestly impressive he could even get hard at all with the amount of drugs in his system.
- He finished. Also a miracle. I did not. Obviously. He rolled off me and I just very awkwardly pull my pants back up dripping with utter disappointment. Now what?
- I somehow convince him that I needed to be somewhere because I could not bear spending another moment with him, much less the night. We leave together. 12 minutes.
And that is why he’s Aux-1 and not Thirty-three.
He offered to walk with me, held my hand, and stopped every few minutes to hold my face and kiss me and all I could think about was how much my 11 year-old self had fantasized about this, never imagining this could’ve ever been a possibility. I wish I could tell her, it does feel fucking great when they’re under your spell but goddamn does it feel even better finding out you are way too good for them.
