Exploits with Edmund Sweet, Part 1

Everyone has that stupid ex that just keeps rearing its ugly head over and over again. Mine is named Edmund Sweet, the first man I ever loved, at the ripe age of 18 (very close to a decade ago). Due to the modern marvel that is the internet, and more specifically, Facebook, Edmund and I have been Facebook friends for over a year with little to no contact. Now, I'm an obsessive Facebooker, constantly posting links, videos, quips, and observations. Everyone on my friends list knows almost everything about my lame day-to-day existence. For over a year Edmund has (presumably) been catching wind of what my life is like, generally. And it wasn't until today that, like a bat out of hell, he commented on an update I posted about having had a "lost weekend". Not only that, but posted a separate wall post asking me how I've been. It all seems innocuous enough...but I know that Edmund Sweet always means trouble, and I always let him.

Edmund and I met in the spring of 2001, shortly before I graduated high school. I should have known he was problematic immediately, as I met him in the basement of my boyfriend at the time (don't stop for a minute to worry about that boyfriend. We only dated for a few weeks and I was mostly using him to get over someone else...like ya do.)

The falling in love part is not what's interesting about my relationship with Edmund. It was everything that occurred after we broke up. Edmund was always a bit of a trainwreck. He'd dated a lot of girls, had a very sketchy relationship with his rich father, was raised in an incredibly religious household, and had already totaled two cars by the time he was 17.

He always seemed a bit...shady, for lack of a better word, and this shadiness grew into a paranoia for me. I didn't trust him, but I completely adored him (he's still the only man that has ever sent me flowers).

Near the end of our relationship, we went to a party that a friend from high school was throwing. Barb threw the sort of parties you see in movies about high school and wonder why, when you get to high school, you never attended a party like that. Barb's parties were full on house parties, complete with hot tub, public making out, and barfing over railings. So Edmund and I go. We mingle. We drink. A LOT.

This would mark our very first instance of public drunken scenes. Edmund proceeded to down an entire bottle of cheap vodka, fall down some stairs, and make out with someone that wasn't me. Right in front of me. Perhaps I should have handed his ass to him right there, but the situation was more confusing than that. I walked in on him making out. With my best friend. My gay, male best friend. I should have been horrified, and I was, a little, but everyone was so hammered that it hardly mattered. After Edmund passed out, I spent the rest of the night poking my finger in his mouth to make sure he didn't choke on the gum he fell asleep chewing.

Did I mention Edmund had to take his SAT's the next day?

*the names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent