There weren’t many guys in Art School that were, how do I put it? "Of the dating sort". We were a fairly small group that became smaller and smaller as the years went on. By the time our 4th year came around, there were only 6 of us left. Now, upon saying that – there were 2 guys that I had taken a shining to, which both also lasted until the end with me, which therefore sky-rocketed my ‘hot Art school guy ratio’ from about 1 in 20 to 1 in 3. I would have liked to have thought that my chances would have dramatically improved with those odds, although here is how this story rolled out.
First there was Pierre; he was a couple years older than the rest of us. He has long wavy brown hair, chiselled features and a wonderfully loud personality. He sat beside me the first day of lectures and we were close ever since that day. He was a very unique soul and like a fine wine, he got better the older our friendship had become. He was a little misunderstood by many, but so was I - so our relationship was great.
About a semester later, the 3 of us had become as close as a bloody circus troop, and I had successfully managed to suppress my initial feelings for David to the deepest depths of my heart. Instead, I focused my affections towards Pierre and after a while, it had come to a volcanic head and one night while the two of us were working late together in the studio, I tearfully confessed my feelings. Of course, I got the “friendship” speech thrown back at me – how or why I expected anything less was beyond me. After a couple tough weeks and awkward moments, I got over it and things between us were OK again. In fact, during our last year, I had moved in with him.
Something else had happened during the summer before we began that final year – David and his wife had split up (big surprise) and when I heard the news, 3 years of buried feelings flooded back in a single moment. My heart was racing; I felt nauseous and light headed and above all else... ridiculously excited. I’d never been so happy to hear about a divorce in my life – and I don’t care how badly it sounded.
Now, how long do I wait before I make my move?
How soon is too soon?
Do I have to wait until he dates someone else first?
I don’t want to be the “rebound girl”.
Crap! Oh, the plethora of possible scenarios! I was making myself dizzy.
I went to sit outside on the porch to have my usual coffee avec la cigarette while I was processing all this juicy information; Pierre came out to join me. He could tell I was day-dreaming about something – like I had just won the lottery or something. Part of what made Pierre so appealing was the same reason why some actually thought he was possibly gay, which was that he was extraordinarily in tune with women and our thought processes – and had no qualms about sharing his wise insights with those around him.
We didn’t speak for a couple minutes and then he looked over at me like he had x-ray vision straight into my soul. After he exhaled a puff of smoke, he spoke to me very sincerely as he revealed his latest epiphany: “It has always been David, hasn’t it? All these years, it was never really me. It was always him.”
Even though I knew of Pierre’s gift of insight, it still took me by surprise that he said that straight up, and as I looked away my eyes welled. I closed my eyes to let the tears fall down my face and as I turned to look back at Pierre I gave him a nod to confirm his hypothesis. We both smiled and started to laugh at the insanity of it all.