Faithful readers and long-suffering friends might recall that I’ve had some issues over the past year with a boy named Bad Idea. In general, I’ve avoided writing about these issues for a few reasons: the whole sordid affair is embarrassing, in many ways; the Whole Sordid Affair has been extremely distressing, difficult, and divisive; the WSA raises the blood pressure of everyone who speaks of it; and a posting about the WSA is the thing I’d be least comfortable having many of my RL friends stumble upon and read about. Despite these many and compelling reasons to just leave it alone, the situation seems to be improving somewhat, and I’m still trying to caffeinate away my hangover and lethargy, so what the hell. I may delete this later, if it proves to be too embarrassing or boring.

Bad Idea and I had one of those instant-chemistry attractions that you Just. Know. will lead to nothing but heartache all around. Not helping matters any was the fact that Bad Idea was the Wrangler’s best friend at the time that I met them, and while the Wrangler knew that I would never be the monogamous girlfriend, he was uncomfortable (to say the least) with this instant-chemistry with Bad Idea. This, combined with Bad Idea’s numerous personal difficulties with sex, relationships, and social interactions in general, meant that Bad Idea and I did nothing more than flirt for over a year.

Then GB and I moved to a new neighborhood, and the Wrangler got custody of the Li’l Wrangler, and the old gang stopped hanging out as often. Bad Idea started hanging out mostly with the Bumper Pool Boys and we didn’t see much of him for a month or two. Then, just about exactly a year ago, I ran into him on the street, and we went for some beers, and then back to his house for more beers, and…the Whole Sordid Affair began. And all I will say about that is that the next month was fabulous and distracting and hot & heavy and utterly, unbearably frustrating, because…

…Bad Idea just absolutely would not have sex with me. Yes, I have a wide definition of what constitutes sex, and what we were doing might possibly have been considered sex if we were 15 years old and out behind the high school stadium, but not so much in my world. And Bad Idea has issues, and one of the biggest was that, while I am non-monogamous, and both my boyfriends are aware of this, Bad Idea didn’t want to upset the Wrangler (who reluctantly accepts my non-monogamousness but is not so big on the idea himself). Whatever. So there was lots of firing things up and then sending me home in a cab. And it sucked, but damn, I was like a junkie. I was hooked. I was physically incapable of *not* going over there. And yes, that is the definition of insanity.

And then Bad Idea met a girl and we quit hanging out (very abruptly); and I was disappointed, but thought it was probably for the best. And then…I’m not sure quite what happened, but Bad Idea started getting kind of snarky with me when I’d see him out. And then one night he said something really rude and hurtful, I got furious and walked out of the bar. And then I saw him again and we didn’t really talk, and then…things got strange. I started hearing from the Bumper Pool Boys about how Bad Idea was so mad at me that he’d vowed to never speak to me again, and how I’d hurt him so badly that I owed him huge apologies, and how I should be more patient with him, and how our “feelings” for each other were making us irrational but no, I shouldn’t talk to him about it. But did the Bumper Pool Boys know about the WSA, and Bad Idea’s part in encouraging it and keeping it going? Nope, he might not have mentioned that. And did they know that I apologized to Bad Idea (via the Wrangler, of all people) for things I’m pretty sure I didn’t do, only to have Bad Idea tell the Wrangler that things would “never be right” with us? Uh, no, he might have left that out as well. And so my happy, casual little Sordid Affair became the scapegoat for Bad Idea’s problems with women in general, and Bad Idea stopped coming to social gatherings I’d be attending, and the Bumper Pool Boys were sad, and much therapeutic tequila needed to be consumed.

And Jesus, you’re not still reading this, are you? Because at this point, this is standing in for the therapy session I missed last week, but it does feel good to get this all out.

So yesterday was the Squirrel’s birthday. And I know I need a pseudonym-glossary, but you’ll recall that the Squirrel is one of the Bumper Pool Boys and generally one of my Favorite People Ever. So when I learned that the Squirrel was having people over for the birthday night, I worried that Bad Idea would be there, and I worried that he wouldn’t.

Ready for the really anticlimactic part of those whole long story? Bad Idea was there, and I think he’d received a good talking-to and lots and lots of beer before I arrived, because he was…fine. There was a smidge of eye contact and we spoke directly to one another at least twice, and he laughed at one of my jokes and I teased him for one of his. And the Squirrel had a party with all of his friends. And I’m left with a sort of bittersweet nostalgia for the days when Bad Idea and I were friends, and I don’t see that happening again, but it feels like…Calamine lotion on poison ivy. It feels better.

So happy birthday to the Squirrel, who doesn’t read this, but who I’m glad was born.

Edited to add: I can’t believe I used the word anticlimactic with a straight face. Why would I expect anything from Bad Idea besides anticlimax?

Hey, you’ve been a great crowd. Tip your waitress.

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