There’s a song that goes, “One way or another I’m gonna find ya, I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya…” After Macon and I broke up, this song seemed to play on my mp3 player lot. Then again, I did have the song on repeat. There was something about the melody of that song accompanied with its words that proved so motivating, encouraging really. I believed I really could get him back into my life.
I’m the one who broke us. According to Macon, I’m the one who “ruined” us. What a word to use for a failed relationship. RUINED. However, this is true. It was entirely my fault, I confess. Macon and I were unofficially together. We weren’t sure if we were dating, boyfriend and girlfriend. Yet, seeing other people was not an option for either of us. Yes, that kind of relationship.
I first met him at Howard Jones Hospital. His professionalism as the front desk receptionist alone was impressive. I almost felt a sense of chivalry to his tone.
“May I help you?” I looked at his name tag. Macon. It was so close to my name, Macan; I couldn’t help but to feel a tad giddy.
“Yes, Macon. I’m supposed to be starting my volunteer work today.”
He looked at a chart on his desk.
“Name?” He replied.
“Macan—“
He looked up at me sharply, cutting me off with a mystified glance.
“Macan Pierce”, I finished.
“Macan. You’ll be in the blood drive department today. Will this be your first time giving blood?”
“No! I mean yes! But, no, I can’t give blood. I freak out at the sight of needles alone--and the pain! Isn’t there something else I can do. I can sweep like you wouldn’t believe.”
My alternative was so pathetic but he must’ve thought otherwise. He chuckled lightly. “I believe you. I‘ll tell you what; I’m going on my break in about 10 minutes. I’ve got you checked in. Why don’t you head down the hall to the blood drive, I’ll come down there and...help you through it. “
“Macon. “ That was all I could muster out. I hoped it came out in a thankful tone. Honestly, it was more of a ‘thank-you-for-coming-into-my-life’ kind of tone.
He was sweet in little ways like that. Even though giving blood was an
embarrassing moment for me, Macon kept me coming back to give more. Macon soon met my friends; the ones who were so eager to meet him anyway. Macon and I were perfect for each other and often joked about how similar our names are. Sounding alike but spelled differently, if we were married and someone asked for a Macon Crawford, we’d have to ask, Mr. or Mrs.?
September became my favorite month just because of him. We flirted a lot, made out a lot. We did a lot of everything really. So I figure at this time, seeing as it was 3 months later, I should bring up the R word. Macon loved how things were and didn’t feel we needed the GF/BF titles. I grew confused by this but trusted it nonetheless. But after knowing him this long, I was wondering if he found me sexually appetizing. I just asked him plainly. “Would you want to have sex with me?” Instantly blushing Macon only smiled. That would be a yes. I went through my mind, counting the few men I had been intimate with. Only five. So that would make Macon six. Six, I thought. Hmm. This cannot be.
There is something you should know about me. I am a strong believer of three things:
fate, love and superstition. I believe everything happens for a reason and love is a power we all possess and I NEVER walk over lines over sidewalk and cross my fingers for good luck.
I thought, Macon is such a special person, he can’t be number six. He must be number
seven. He’s got to be lucky number seven. That’s when I ruined everything. Macon became number seven. But when he found out about what I had done, fate, love and superstition was no excuse. Infidelity was unacceptable and that’s what ruined us. RUINED.
He cut me out of his life instantly. I was heartbroken myself. I couldn’t believe how this
just came crumbling down. I was bedridden for days. I stopped volunteering at the hospital. I laid in bed all day listening to my mp3 player. I had that song on repeat. I wanted him back so bad. I learned my lesson immediately. But he did not want me back.
Life as I knew it had ended. I was demoted from possible GF to not even friends. But as
“Someone he thought he knew”.
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Submission Name: The Other Me (Part 1)
