The Best Babysitter in Town Vol. 2 Ch. 17

Good on us for not talking about what we’d been talking about on our drive over. Instead, I talked about my friends who were going to be there. You know how hard it is to get someone excited to meet your friends, especially when the someone is as introverted as Gordy? I don’t think I piqued his interested even a little bit, so imagine my surprise when we got inside and I found my friend and Gordy was effusively charming. The boy has layers. So many layers.

Not that introverted people can’t be charming. They often are; I think it’s because they have to try harder to put themselves out there. It was almost, but just almost, over the top with the “You’re Holly? Sally told me so much about you.” On the other hand, he stayed glued to my side. Whatever conversation I was in, he was in.

That was fine by me, but I appreciated it when Holly’s long-time boyfriend asked Gordy if he wanted to meet some of his friends. Why did I appreciate it? Let’s just say for any reason other than the same feeling I get when an older kid asks one of the younger kids I sit for if they wanna come play (which is so wholesome and cute and makes the little kiddo feel so special). And even though it shouldn’t have felt this way, it also felt like a bit of a deal that Gordy accepted, like he was being brave by going off with someone he just met. I felt proud, and I didn’t like that I felt proud.

Gordy is not socially inept or so immature I should ever be feeling like it’s an accomplishment when he takes the slightest step toward independence. Isn’t that what we just talked about? He is independent! I know he is! So where were all these patronizing feelings coming from? Yeah, it was great that he agreed to come to a party, but once there, there was no reason for me to be feeling as though he were coming out of his shell.

Holly, helpfully, took my mind off it by asking me about … Gordy. Crap.

“So what’s his story,” she asked me. Of all the deceptively complicated questions in the universe …

“We went to school together,” I told her.

“Did you guys date before?”

“No. And I mean all of school. Like, since kindergarten. We were always friendly, but not really friends until this semester.”

“So it’s just friends?”

“We’re … It’s complicated.” Which was the wrong thing to say, especially to Holly. The word complicated in reference to a relationship doesn’t close off a conversation topic between girlfriends. It blows it wide the fuck open. How come I know better but when it comes to Gordy it’s like I’m constantly arriving on the latest turnip truck with the words I allow to leave my mouth?

Holly didn’t even need to ask another question. She just went, “Ooo,” suggestively and settled deeper into her chair. All she needed was some popcorn. And me? I took the bait.

“We sorta got reacquainted a few months ago, and we’ve been hanging out a lot together since.”

“He’s not really your type.”

Eye roll and dismissive shrug; if I have a type, it’s new to me. “What’s my type?”

“About yay high,” she said, putting her hand about three feet from the floor, “still in diapers.”

At least I didn’t do a spit take, but that probably would’ve felt much better than my sip of vodka going down the wrong pipe. “What the (hack) is that (hack hack cough) is (cough) supposed to (hack) mean?”

“That you’re always too busy babysitting to have time to date. Just thought that was more your priority. You must really like him to be spending a lot of time with him.” Lord, if only she knew.

“A lot of it’s on campus.”

“Still, it’s a Saturday night, and you’re having date night instead of babysitting for some couple having their own date night.”

Would I have been at the party, or with Gordy somewhere else, if his stepmonster wasn’t paying me? Probably not. I probably would be babysitting. But would I want to be with Gordy?

“I guess you’re right,” I told her.

“And you do have a type,” she told me. “Maybe not for a relationship, but I’ve seen the boys you fool around with. They’re all tall and athletic.”

“I don’t date frat boys.”

“You hardly date at all, and I didn’t say frat boys.”

“Ya know,” I said to change the subject, “I don’t think any of the relationships I’ve had were really relationships. They were never very long or serious or meant to be serious.” I think my record was three months. Everything else was just dating, going out a few times, a couple I slept with a few times before one or both of us lost interest.

“You say that like it’s news to you,” Holly observed.

“It’s not.”

“Do you want to be in a relationship?”

“I dunno. I might.”

“With Gordy?”

“Maybe?”

“What does Gordy want?”

“Gordy is just thrilled to have female attention. He’s not very experienced with dating. He’s pretty shy. He has his moments though. He’s trying really hard tonight; he didn’t want to come. Not really a party person.”

“That’s a good sign, if he came just for you. He seems sweet.”

“He’s a teddy bear. A moody teddy bear, but he’s super sweet.”

“Like I said, not your type.”

“What does that mean? I don’t get it.”

“That when you want a quick fling, you go out with a guy who’s tall and buff. Gordy is shorter than you and kinda skinny. And those other guys have a three-emotion range: thirsty, hungry, and sports.”

“I don’t date bros!”

“No, but that’s who you one-night-stand with.”

“You make it sound like I sleep around a lot. I definitely don’t.” I definitely don’t; maybe it seems that way to Holly because I don’t really date, but my body count is still mid-single digits. “Anyway, what’s your point?”

“That maybe Gordy is different from the other guys you’ve been with because you want something different from him.”

“There … might be some validity to that … I will say he’s a lot more interesting than anyone I’ve been with before. He’s more … The boy has a lot of layers. Kind of having fun peeling them back. Don’t ever tell anyone I told you this, but he’s been through a lot of trauma. Seriously screwed up home life. It’s kind of like … I like helping him through it. Is that bad?”

“Would you be with him if he didn’t have a lot of trauma?”

“He wouldn’t be the same person. But I like to think so.”

“I don’t think it’s bad, not so long as you’re not with him because you can boss him around.”

“I’m not with him because I can boss him around, but I do boss him around a little. He needs it though. When he’s in one of his moods where it’s like he’s still a high schooler dealing with his fucked up parents, bossing around helps it snap out of it, or at least get through it.”

“You trying to change him?”

“Why? Is that bad?”

“Can’t really change people.”

“At our age? I think you can. I just … I want to see him happy. If that counts as trying to change him, I guess I’m guilty.”

“So long as you’re not setting yourself up to be disappointed by it all.”

“Can I tell you something else and you promise to keep it to yourself?” That is such a conversational red flag. Think seriously about the number of times you said that to someone and actually would’ve kept it to yourself if they said no. Why o why I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut that day …

“It’s that complicated,” Holly asked me, “your relationship?”

“Yeah. I do like bossing him around. Not, like, in an everyday sense, but I like it when he does what I tell him. Like, in a kinky way.”

“Like what,” asked Holly.

“I really shouldn’t say details.”

“How does he feel about it?”

“That’s the thing – he doesn’t know I kinda get off on it. I just … got a little bossy early on, and he did what I said and it was like, ‘Surprise, Sally, you have a kink.’ Heh. Didn’t know that about myself before.”

“You mean in bed?”

“We haven’t slept together yet. When I said he’s inexperienced …”

“He still has his V card?” We’re twenty, not forty, so it’s still in the realm of normal to still be a virgin, if rare. She wasn’t being judgy, just asking.

“Yep. The way he grew up, it was like super sheltered and not in a wholesome way. With everything else, it just feels wrong sometimes, like I’m fetishizing things about him that wouldn’t be the case if he didn’t have so much trauma.”

“He is who he is, like you said. He’d be a different person without his experiences. But also maybe not; maybe you’re making a big assumption about what he’d be like if he grew up differently.

But let’s say you’re right, Maybe you do like some of those traits that he wouldn’t have without the trauma, but you like him for other reasons, right? It’s not like you went looking for someone with a messed up past you could manipulate. It’s not like you’re manipulating him at all, right? And it’s not like if it doesn’t work out you’re going to try to go find someone else with a screwed up past. That’s what fetishizing trauma would look like. Besides, people don’t really get to choose what they get off on.”

“They can choose not to act on it though.”

“So you’d give up what sounds like a really promising relationship? Why haven’t you just been honest with him about it?”

“Because I don’t know how he’ll take it.”

“So you’re holding on to a really promising relationship by not being honest with him.”

“Yeah, I’m allowed to do that, right,” I asked hopefully.

“Nope. And you know that won’t work. If you’re not honest and he finds out, and he will eventually, it’ll be over. If you are honest, you know him best. What’s likely to happen?”

“He’ll be pissed at me.”

“Are you sure about that? Maybe he likes being bossed around in whatever vague way you won’t tell me about it.”

“I’m … 50/50. I’m just not sure.” Gordy is eager to please, but that doesn’t mean he gets off on it. I don’t want him doing anything he doesn’t want to just because he’s desperate for a friend and some female attention and has been bullied by the main woman in his life into having a compulsive need for approval.

“Let’s say he’s pissed. Will he get over it,” Holly asked.

“I still don’t know.”

“You want my two cents?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think you’re fetishizing his trauma or doing anything wrong, but you do need to tell him if you want to keep him, even as a friend. And you wouldn’t have unburdened yourself just now if you didn’t want to keep him. And you wouldn’t be so torn up about it if you didn’t really care for him. You know I’m right.”

“I know … How come I always hafta be the one to do what’s right?”

“What kind of role model would you be otherwise? You’d have to give up your best babysitter in town crown.”

And speaking of babysitting, as if on cue, Matt (Holly’s bf) appeared with a not so happy expression to say, “Your boyfriend … I think you need to take him home.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“He’s trashed.”

“Are you sure it’s Gordy? He doesn’t drink; not really.”

“Then that’s probably why he got so drunk so fast.”

“O, geez. Holly, I’ll text you tomorrow. Thanks for the talk.”

“You want help?”

“No, thanks. Have fun tonight. Where is he?”

“The backyard. I’ll come with you anyway. You might need some help steering him to the car.”

“Thanks.” I snagged a bottle of water off the kitchen counter on my way out. Of all the things I expected from the evening, Gordy having too much drink was way down the list.

And did anyone else notice Matt calling Gordy my boyfriend? Because not even. Way too early for that.