Three Strikes - 25. Catchphrase

I arrived home, exhausted from AARP’s family reunion cluster fuck, and fell backward onto my bed. I stared at the ceiling in disbelief as I thought back to the day’s events, scratch that, as I thought about the last twenty-four hours.

Generally, I considered myself a good person. I worked with kids who had cancer, I paid my bills on time, I donated my time and money to good causes, I didn’t cheat, and I kept lying to a minimum.

So why did I feel as though I couldn’t escape the F5 shit storm that was following me around? I mean, what were the chances AARP were close living relatives of the DAKS and their reunion would be the day after Shane and I’d broken up? To make it worse, their families were mostly badass! They were amazing, gracious, and fun. I felt like a polar bear that had strayed far away from the arctic, and they were the nice sand people that kept me safe from the sun's harmful rays (harmful rays being code for DAKS, Shane’s father, and a few others I didn’t give a flying fuck about).

I needed to decompress. There was no way I could process the last twenty-four hours alone, so I grabbed my phone and sent a group text.

[Me] Code YWBWTFH. Immediate assistance requested.

[Oliver] OMW

[Oliver] Wait, what is YWBWTFH, again?

[Sammy] You Won’t Believe What the Fuck Happened. Come on, man. It’s not that hard, you idiot.

[Oliver] Fuck you.

[Allé] Who am I picking up?

[Sammy, Oliver, Nick, Nelly] *raised hand emoji*

[Allé] One day, I’m going to trade-in this minivan for a two-seater and you all are gonna have 2 grow up.

[Nick] You’re so pretty! I don’t tell you that enough.

[Allé] I just rolled my eyes so hard I saw the back of my head. See you in 30 D.

*** *** *** ***

I took a shower to cleanse myself of the last twenty-four hours. Once there, things took a turn. I thought about “Toxic”, by Britney Spears. It was totally Shane’s song since he was toxic as fuck. Naturally, I started singing it in the shower as I lathered my body with smell goods and sang blindly into the hot spray.

If shower karaoke was a contest, I’d come in first. In reality, the idea was borderline intrusive since it was in the shower, but I suppose people have done worse, for less.

I’d sung that song a million times, but as I sang it in the shower, a few things dawned on me. One, the song was fucking terrible and the lyrics were a joke. Two, the song wasn’t about someone being toxic in a bad way…at least, I not to me, not in that moment.

For years, I interpreted to mean that she was with someone who was cruel and toxic, but as I sang it in the shower, I suddenly saw it differently. Now it was about being so fucking attracted to someone that you can’t stop yourself, making them toxic for you. Maybe it I felt differently because of how things had gone down with Shane. After all he was a jerk, I couldn’t stand to look at him, and I hated the fact I wanted him.

I didn’t want him…yet, I did, and for that reason, he was toxic as fuck.

The realization that was not the hate song I’d assumed it to be (for the past fifteen years), was like taking a nice hot shower only to have someone unexpectedly dump a bucket of cold water on you. The song, and it’s new meaning, was stuck on repeat in my head and the more I sang it, the more Shane became burned into my brain.

I hummed the tune as I dried my hair with the extra towel then tossed it to the side as I approached my dresser. A montage of memories flashed before me—the first night we hooked up, when he asked me out, the dressing room blow job, brunch, his smile, his laugh, snuggling on the couch, kissing, and all of the times we teased each other.

I couldn’t help the smile that pulled the corner of my lips as I pulled on my tiny, eighties-style, maroon and white briefs. The humming turned into legitimate singing as I continued to think about my time with Shane.

“And I love what you do--” I sang enthusiastically before I was suddenly joined by others. “Don’t you know that you’re toxic?”

“Fuck!” I jumped backward and screamed in fright. I was so lost in thought, I hadn’t noticed the DONNAS arrived.

“Oh, boi. What had you so preoccupied that you couldn’t see or hear us?” Sammy chuckled.

“Nothing. Just a long-ass day.”

I watched as they hardly tried to contain their giggles while they all smirked at me. I didn’t really want to talk about the reason I was preoccupied so I tried to change the subject.

“You guys sure got here fast.”

“It’s rare to get a code YWBWTFH from you, so...Allé may have broken a few laws getting here—”

“Yeah, like not coming to a complete stop at stop signs, or when we’re trying to get in the van,” Nelly was clearly left unamused by the commute to my house. Allé’s smile lit up the room as he silently laughed. He leaned back against my headboard and waved his hand into the air as if Nelly was overreacting, which he usually did.

“Oh, stop your bitching. I was only going maybe ten miles per hour and I had the door open for you. It’s not like I was forcing you to jump between two speeding trains.”

“Only ten miles per hour! What the fuck do you think I am, a fucking Cheetah or something?” The rest of us were trying to hold back our laughter as Nelly stood and began gesturing at himself. “Look at me! I’m not that tall and I’m all torso,” he placed one hand square above his pubic bone and the other just below his breast bone. I hadn’t realized how long Nick’s and Nelly’s torsos were. Nelly then pointed to his legs, “And I have fucking pygmy goat legs!”

At the comparison of pygmy goat legs, the entire room erupted into laughter, because, it was true; Nick and Nelly did have short fucking legs. Still wearing nothing but my undies, I sat next to Allé on the bed, laughing as Nelly ranted on. He had a way of burning people, including himself, in a way that was so hilarious you couldn’t help but laugh, no matter how brutal it was. We’d been laughing so long and hard, there wasn’t a dry eye or a calm stomach in the room.

“Fuck you all. I hate every single one of you,” Nelly pointed to each of us before landing on Allé, “especially you!”

We all burst into laughter, again, as Nelly let out a huff and fell onto the bed, joining the rest of us. We knew there wasn’t any real heat behind his words. I’m sure he was angry about having to run and jump into Allé’s car like some Die Hard character, but we also knew he wasn’t actually mad. We threw around a few more comments about the ride to my house as we let the giggles subside. Finally, once everyone’s systems had been settled, Nick brought the attention back to me.

“So, I have to know. How did AARP’s reunion turn into a code YWBWTFH? I cannot, for the life of me, imagine a scenario unless...” he cocked his head to the side and his eyes widened. Instantly, he sat up straight. “Did you fuck one of them? OMG, you did!”

If all eyes hadn’t been on me before, they were now. There was a round of gasps and open mouths as they tried to process the new revelation. I rolled my eyes at their perverted minds.

“No, that’s Sammy’s job, but I have to say, Mickey was looking awfully energized and confident—”

Sammy’s face flushed as he cut me off, “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you.”

“Salami’s right. Continue on,” Allé nudged my side in encouragement.

I spoke slowly so they’d have time to piece the puzzle together.

“Fine. Do you remember me telling you that Thomas has a gay grandson, Kels? And that he’d be at the reunion with his friends?”

They slowly nodded their heads as each of them tried to solve the riddle first.

“Well, Kels is a nickname. It’s a shortened version of his last name.”

The guys were leaning forward, anxiously waiting for me to continue.

“Kelly.”

I could see the gears turning but nothing was catching. They’re gazes ping ponged around the room as they looked at each other for help.

“His last name is Kelly?” Sammy asked, although it was less of a question and more of him verbally processing his thoughts.

I nodded my head and they went back to their detective work. Honestly, I thought they’d make the connection right away, but clearly, they weren’t the Hardy Boys. After a minute or so, Olie sank with defeat.

“What are we missing, Gordy? The only person I can think of with the last name Kelly is Shane, and obviously it’s not—” Olie’s eyes and mouth widened as the puzzle fell into place. His eyes met mine as he mouthed, oh my god. There were a few seconds lag time as the rest of the group reached the same conclusion as Olie.

Well, after everyone else had figured it out, Sammy, who was never was good at brain teasers, blurted, “Shane is Thomas’ grandson?”

It was actually kind of fun watching everyone’s reactions as I slowly revealed the news.

“Yes, but that’s not all. Aaron is Jack’s grandson, Drew is David’s grandson, and Kurt is Mickey’s nephew.”

Allé pressed his palms against his head as if the news was going to make his brain burst while Olie continued to mouth, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Nick and Nelly simply stared at me with their mouths agape.

“The DAKS and AARP?” Sammy mumbled in disbelief. His palms were face down by his waist while he dramatically pumped them outward as if it’d slow everything down so he could fully process the information.

I decided they’d all suffered long enough so I filled them in on everything, starting at the beginning and ending with our victory lap while we sang Journey: Don’t Stop Believing. The guys hung on every word as I recounted the events. They laughed at the funny stuff, were mad at the frustrating parts, and clapped for my victories.

“Holy crapola! If I doubted your character, even a little, I’d think you’d made-up the whole story. It’s so deliciously Jerry Springer.”

“What I can’t believe is, Shane is such a fucking pansy. Sure, his father’s the Emperor Douche, but Shane didn’t do anything about it. What a coward.”

“Honestly, if you’d ask me, you dodged a bullet.”

“I agree with Nick. Shane had us all booty fooled, but no more!”

Everyone cheered and threw their fists into the air as they united as one against Shane. It was like Lord of the Flies, you could feel the mutiny again Shane building at an alarming rate. It was so intense they decided we needed drinks, so we moved the party to the kitchen where Allé manned the margarita maker, making them twice as strong as they should’ve been.

There was no surprise when, three drinks (each) later, they were back in the anti-Shane rally mentality. They cheered, trash talked, made promises of physical harm and, if I would’ve had printed pictures of Shane, they would’ve burned them, instead they settled for deleting them from my phone.

During the midst of the rally, we ordered pizza and decided to do mud facials to cleanse ourselves (me) of ‘Shane toxins’. I didn’t contribute much to the campaign against Shane, mostly I let them do the walking and talking. I laughed, drank, and did facials with them, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk trash, even though I had every right to. I thought about the rude things he’d said, but I also thought about all of the times he smiled and made me laugh and the times I couldn’t get enough of his touch or his laugh. God, I was so fucking booty blinded.

I felt the mud drying and tightening on my face and touched it lightly with my fingertips, “Fuck. Is it just me or does the mud dry my face into the ultimate bitch face? I feel like I look so fucking angry by the time it’s ready to be washed off.” I could barely move my face, including my mouth, which made talking slightly difficult, everyone looked at me and started laughing.

“You look like an old, angry spinster!”

I didn’t hesitate to flip him off as I got off of the couch and stumbled to the kitchen for another drink. I was definitely past my cut off point but I didn’t care because I had nothing and no one to wake up sober for.

“Woah! Gordy’s drunk!”

I threw my hands into the air and whooped loudly at Salami’s comment which received whoops from my fellow BF’s in return. I tripped on something and barely caught myself on the counter as the doorbell rang, which was perfect timing because I needed food in my system…badly! I wildly waved my hand in the air. “Pizza! I fucking love pizza!”

Even to my drunk self I could tell my words were slurred and I had to really focus on things like walking, faces, and talking—and I even had to squint as I looked around the room. Fuck, I’m so drunk I thought as I tried to pay the poor guy at the door.

“I love pizza, too!” A drunk Salami yelled, making the underage delivery boy blush.

“Extra Salami for our little Salami!”

Sammy rolled his eyes at me while I stumbled my way back to the couch after putting the pizza on the counter, which caused half of my drink to be spilled by the time I got there. I put my arm around Sammy and leaned in close to his ear.

“I have a question for you.” I squinted at his face and slowly moved my finger until I bopped his nose, making him laugh. “You must tell us all about your date with Mickey. We want to hear about the sex! What was his penis like? I’ve never seen old man penis.”

I accidentally flopped onto the couch, which was fine because standing was too taxing, and clapped my hands together like a kid waiting for cake.

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” he shrugged.,

The room booed and Nelly quipped, “Well then, it’s a good thing you're no gentleman.”

I was about to press Sammy further when Allé walked into the room, holding the pizza I had abandoned. We all stood and made our way toward the island so we could fill our bellies. I grabbed a slice and tried to shove it in my face but realized I couldn’t, my face was as hard as a rock.

“Owie! My face hurts and I can’t eat my pizza,” I whined while staring sadly at the pizza I couldn’t eat.

Everyone followed suit and tried to take a bite of pizza but between the mud masks and the laughing, we didn’t get very far. That’s what we were doing, laughing and trying to pout, when the doorbell rang, again.

“Gordy, I knew your terrible tipping was going to come back and bite you in the ass. I bet he’s going to ream you good,” Olie teased.

“That doesn’t sound so bad. I like a good rimming,” I responded. I thought about the last time I’d had the pleasure and it had been too long.

The room erupted with laughter as I looked around confused, I clearly missed something. I was about to find out what the joke was when Allé shouted from the front door.

“Gordy, the doors for you!”

“Who is it?”

“Some guy.”

“Is he cute?” I tried to look seductive but I think it came across angry, there wasn’t really any other options when wearing a mud mask.

“Yeah, he’s exactly your type,” Allé laughed and nodded his head.

I smiled and then furrowed my brow, which wasn’t easy with the mud mask, when I realized everyone was still laughing at something I wasn’t in on. As I stood and walked to the front door, I asked them what was so funny.

“Gordy, you’re seriously too drunk. Nick said ream, as in being yelled at. Not rimmed, as in having your butthole French kissed.”

I laughed at the mix up, turned the knob, slightly opened the door, and yelled back into the kitchen. “My bad. I stand by my statement though, I do like a good rimming. So, so much!” I was laughing as I swung the door open all the way, only to come face to face with Shane.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I wanted to apologize for my dad’s behavior today.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, in an attempt to try to see him better, and leaned back against the door frame to steady myself.

“Let me get this straight. You came here to apologize for the things your dad said?”

After he nodded, I half laughed then pushed off from the door frame and walked toward the kitchen, leaving the front door wide open.

“Guess what guys? Shane’s here. He wants to apologize for the rude things his dad said.”

Who the fuck did he think he was? Sure, his dad was a jerk, but that hadn’t bothered me near as much as hearing Shane talk about me. He showed up at my house and didn’t even try to apologize for the incredibly hurtful things he said. I turned around and looked at Shane, who had stepped into the house to a roar of boos from my faithful island dwellers.

“Could we talk?” Shane asked. After I hadn’t moved, he added, “In private?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him because he didn’t deserve a private conversation. “No.”

Shane released a frustrated breath as his eyes darted to the men who sat behind me, eagerly watching the drama as it unfolded. What could I say, my friends were lovers of the Arts.

Shane came closer in an attempt to create privacy by reducing the need to talk louder than necessary—the closer he was, the less others could hear. He leaned against the island, only a foot or so away...too close if you asked me. His deep brown eyes looked into mine as he pleaded.

“Listen, Donovan, I’m not only here to apologize for my dad. I’m definitely embarrassed about the way he behaved, but I came here to talk to you about last night. I want to straighten things out between us.”

I watched his lips...because I’d always liked them. They weren’t anything special, like the rest of him, but I still liked them. Seeing his yummy lips made me think about my lips, and suddenly, I was very aware of my face. The mud mask had past the point of needing to be removed and it had dried so tight that my lips puffed out like sausage rushing through a tear in the skin.

My eyes widened and I brushed my fingers against my lips. I had duck lips. The fear was real as I bolted from the kitchen and ran upstairs. I’d been wearing the mud mask the whole time I’d been talking to Shane and I probably looked like a total fool.

I cleaned my face with a hot towel then splashed some cold water to help close my pores as the rest of the guys filtered in the room.

“Oh, god. Look at my face!”

Everyone glanced at the mirror, only to notice my face was red and irritated. Evidently, you’re not supposed to leave the mud mask on for over an hour, who knew. I wasn’t the only one, Olie and Sammy also had red faces. I dug around for some soothing cream to help rehydrate and, hopefully, calm down the irritation. My face instantly felt better as I slathered the cream onto my face. Besides the residual red, my face looks incredibly good. As we walked down the stairs, I couldn’t help but make weird faces as I stretched my skin after its long incarceration.

“Now, where were we?” To be honest, I was surprised and disappointed that he hadn’t left.

Between the pizza, Shane’s arrival, and the panic over my face, I was feeling surprisingly sober. Instead of leaning against the counter, I pulled out two stools, one for me and one for Shane. I felt the seats coolness against the back of my legs and my sobering mind became painfully aware that I was only wearing my underwear. I’d already made a fool of myself, I couldn’t run out of the room again without being locked in a psych ward. I decided to play it cool, like it was totally normal to talk to your ex-boyfriend in nothing but retro style undies.

Totally-fucking-normal.

“Um…I was trying to straighten things out between us. I don’t know what you heard, but most of it, at least anything you heard me say, or even the guys for that matter, are explainable. Although, I have nothing to offer Davis on his behalf.”

I half laughed at the ridiculousness Shane had spouted. Maybe he was the drunk one, not me.

“You really think you can explain the things I heard? Wouldn’t you love that...to be able to say a bunch of crap and then convince me it wasn’t all terrible,” I shook my head.

“Yes, because it wasn’t...not about you anyway! I never said anything against you, not one thing.”

“Bullshit!” I yelled with my hands in the air. “I heard everything! (which was a lie) I heard it all! I heard when you told everyone I was nothing but a tight ass!”

“What are you talking about?! I never said that!”

“Yes, you did! I heard you! ‘I’m not a fag, I just like a tight ass’,” I quoted him from the night before.

“That’s not...that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I…don’t…know…shit, Shane! I’m clearly not that bright if I dated you after you proved you were nothing but an asshole.”

Shane’s expression looked as if I’d kicked him where it hurts most. He pursed his lips in an attempt to not frown.

“Donovan—”

“Don’t fucking Donovan me! Why are you really here? You’re not apologizing because you clearly don’t think you have anything to apologize for. So, what is it? Why are you here?”

All of the anger and hurt had bubbled to the surface and I couldn’t hold it back any longer. The margaritas made sure of that.

“I’m here to apologize! I know I’m at fault. I shouldn’t have run out the other morning and I shouldn’t have cut you out, but you’re blowing last night out of proportion. Yes, I said a few things that were stupid and immature, but nothing about you or towards you. Davis was drunk and said a lot of stupid ass shit about a lot of things. We mostly tuned him out. But the rest of us were just joking around, the way we always do, the way we always have. The same way I’m sure you and your friends do when no one is around. Hell, I’d love to hear the things you’ve all said about me. I’m sure they’re less than encouraging comments. But, Donovan, I swear I never said anything about you. Not a single bad thing.”

“I don’t believe you. I know what I heard!” I shouted.

“What did you hear? Please, tell me.”

My partially drunk brain had to really think back to what my previously partially drunk brain had heard at the bar. It was like six degrees of separation trying to accurately recall everything I’d heard.

“I’m not a fag, I just like a tight ass,” I quoted. “Shane, it was plain as day. I know I didn’t mis-hear that.”

“I said that, but—fuck,” he sighed and rubbed his face. It took him a while to collect himself. “It was my senior year. Kurt, Aaron, Drew, and I were all with my dad in the city for a baseball game. We were walking from the parking garage to the field when we passed a group of rowdy gay men. They were hard to miss and my dad, being the graceful and accepting guy he was, couldn’t understand gay culture. Honestly, I probably wasn’t far behind him,” he frowned. “He looked me right in my eyes and said, ‘you’re not like them, right? No, of course not. You’re not a fag, you just like a tight ass’. And he was totally serious. It was like he just solved the riddle behind the reason his son was gay. I stared at my friends in shock, none of us knew what to say. It was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard. It hurt that he thought anal was the only reason I’d be gay. The next morning Kurt offered me a strawberry pop tart. The minute I grabbed it Aaron knocked it out of my hand and shouted ‘Don’t give him that! He’s not a fag, he only likes a tight ass!’. I never laughed so hard in my life and, after that, it became a catchphrase of sorts. It didn’t matter what the situation was, someone would find a way to sneak it in. It’s terrible, I know. But I can either laugh about it, or be upset that my dad really doesn’t understand me.”

We stared at each other while his words sank in. He appeared to be genuine, remorseful and most of all, speaking the truth. I didn’t want to carry this shit around forever, it was bad for my skin, so I needed to accept his apology, move on, cut my losses, and start fresh.

“Okay.”

His brows creased with confusion, “Okay?”

“I forgive you. It’s water under the bridge.”

Shane closed his eyes and relaxed at of my words. When he opened them again, he was smiling. All the worry and stress was gone and his eyes were once again filled with the sparkle that made me weak in the knees.

“You forgive me?”

I nodded my head and he sighed, again, before reaching out to me. He intertwined his hand with mine and lightly played with my fingers while snaking his other hand toward my waist. I leaned back in confusion as he touched me the way lovers do. I immediately moved away from his embrace.

“What are you doing?” I looked at him as if he was mentally insane, which was a real possibility.

He tensed up and step backward. “You said…I thought…I’m confused.”

“That makes two of us.”

“You just said you forgave me and it was water under the bridge, yeah?”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with all of the touching?”

His eyes were looking for answers he didn’t have.

“I thought...I can’t touch you now?” he looked bewildered.

“Of course not! I’ve forgiven you, but that doesn’t mean I’ve taken you back.”

Shane looked as if I’d sucker punched him in the gut. “I miss you. I’m so sorry,” Shane whispered.

He barely met my eyes but there was no doubt the sincerity in his words. I was sorry things hadn’t work out, but he wasn’t in a good place in his life and I knew he was going to hurt me over and over. I didn’t want to fix him. I had to grow up and learn from my mistakes at some point, and so did he.

“Me too, Shane.”

I don’t know why, but it was almost as if my words had given him some kind of hope because he stepped forward, cupped my face in his hands, and pleaded.

“Please, Donovan. I’m so sorry. What can I do? Tell me and I’ll do it, anything you want.”

He pulled my face toward his until our foreheads touched and I felt my insides liquify with his words and touch. In true Shane style, there were so many emotions packed into so few words. I couldn’t bring myself to look into his espresso eyes because I didn’t want to see the emotion.

I knew I was going to lose sleep over it, but I needed to distance myself from Shane, so I pulled away.

“You should go.”

He didn’t argue after that. He simply left.

I was staring at the door when I was wrapped in a group hug. We probably would have stood there, in silence, all night if Nelly hadn’t broken the silence.

“So, who was Davis?”

Fuck, I’d totally forgot to ask.

“And why’d he run out on you that one morning?”

I turned away from them with a loud groan and stormed off to my room. I'd been so angry and frustrated that I’d forgotten to talk about so much shit. And now it was supposed to be water under the bridge, so I couldn’t really bring it back up.

Who the fuck was Davis? And why the fuck had Shane freaked?

*** *** *** ***

I was lying on the bed, wrapped in my blankets, when Allé poked his head in.

“Do you want some company?” He waited for my nod before spooning behind me. “You don’t look like someone who hates Shane. You look like someone who's heartbroken.”

“Of course I am! Everything was great until one morning he freaked the fuck out and ghosted me. Then, last night, I heard him talking about me, I think. Yesterday morning I had a boyfriend, and by yesterday night, I was single. To top it off, I spent all fucking day with his family.”

We sat in silence while I continued to think about Shane.

“Last night,” Allé finally said, breaking the silence.

“Last night?” I asked, having no idea what he was talking about.

“You said ‘yesterday night’. No one should say yesterday night. You either say yesterday or last night. Yesterday night is weird. If you want to go all Shakespeare you can say yesternight, but that’s weird, too.”

“Dude, you’re fucking weird,” I laughed.

I was still smiling about his weird word fetish when I felt Allé squeeze me.

“You know, it’s okay to feel heartbroken and it’s okay to not hate him. There’s no set rules on these things.”

I hoped he was right because I felt pretty shitty for feeling sad over Shane.

“It’s also okay to talk to him in private...when you’re sober. It doesn’t mean you have to take him back but you both need a solid conversation. And hey, when it’s all said and done, and if you want to take him back, then don’t let anyone stop you. Some people need a few extra get out of jail free cards. Like I said, there’s no set rules here. There’s no magic number or formula. I think its kind of a miracle that he’s trying so hard to communicate with you. He admitted communication wasn’t his strong suit and if you shut him down when he’s really trying…well, you shouldn’t because it could set him back. Just hear him out, let him do the talking, ask questions, but don’t listen to the guys downstairs. Sam’s embracing his inner Anna Nicole Smith, Nelly's angry about everything, Olie has the maturity of a fourteen-year-old boy, and Nick...is Nick.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I sighed.

“I’m definitely right and you know it. Talk to him.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled in defeat.

“You’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do, right?”

“Whatever,” I smiled.

I had good friends, even if they were useless most of the time.