Untitled, By Unknown

36: Polyphemus- wait, that's not the word-

Writing time: 20th- 27th April 2017

'No no no no no no... Jacob is your mother's lover. I watch them. Sometimes from a chair, sometimes from a closet. Almost always dressed as Superman'- Leonard, Rick and Morty, S1 E3, 2013. Now, I know how this quote sounds. But after actually researching the exact wording, I can reassure you that it isn't nearly as accurate to real life as I first thought. For a start, nobody was dressed as Superman.

Truthfully, I didn't think this story could get any weirder than it already has. The irony is, it started off quite boring.

Nearly two weeks had passed since my birthday, with practically nothing worth mentioning happening at all. There were a few things on the last day before the two-week Easter holidays, I suppose. Got invited to accompany one of the emo's friends- a guy I can't think of a codename for as 'the whovian' has already been used- to the college's Costa. Huh, maybe some of them do like me. Chose not to, instead (on an unrelated note, Hennimore) joined the actress and leader at McDonalds, where the latter actually drove us. I'll admit, there is a slight worry in seeing somebody you've known for nearly six years behind the wheel of a car, but luckily the biggest issue was in fact directions. Managed to really annoy the nerdy one in Psychology by complaining under my breath about the Disney film we were watching for 'entertainment'. I appear to be the only human who didn't grow up on Disney, painting me as a heathen to the general populous. Though maybe I took the whole skirmish a bit far when I said David Attenborough would one day die (I don't much like him either). I mean, a symptom of anxiety is being quick to irritability... that's not an excuse, is it? Can it be? Please. Fine. What else. Minor breakdown at my dad's, of which I cannot pinpoint the cause. I'd calmed since college. From what I can tell, something on Tumblr pissed me off and sent me into some sort of spiral. There had to have been more than that, but I couldn't find anything minutes after. Good news- didn't hurt myself, bad news- my convincing reason was that I wouldn't wearing anything with long sleeves. Huh, two sessions of therapy isn't a cure. Fuck you, Theresa May. Not necessarily because of that. Just fuck you.
Now that's out of the way... this is where it really kicks off.

Monday. Never mind- Sunday. You need the background.
Basically, the tall one and the elder librarian had been out Saturday night, along with the former crush and his boyfriend. After ingestion of various substances, the first in that list had fooled around with the fourth. And made out with the third. With the second's permission. Despite that last sentence, he felt he had royally messed up, and summoned a group chat to his aid. Only to cancel the cavalry after speaking with her, where she forgave him. Then invited me to join them that afternoon.
We met, we walked, we laughed. Wandered to the grandmother of the tall one's house. Positivity continued. Card games. Messing around. The elder librarian deciding to play with my hair. But after a while. When the mood had calmed. When the elder librarian and I were now sharing a sofa, the tall one across the room. When he decided to speak: "Look, if you guys are going to do stuff, just do it."
I'm going to pause for a second. Give you time to process that lunacy.
Once again. What? That was the thought on both our minds. We pressed him, trying to decipher his meaning. It appeared to be literal; surely it couldn't be. Did he actually expect something to happen? Was he subconsciously punishing himself for the other night? Was it a test? (Ok, not that last one-all three of us agreed he wasn't smart enough to come up with that. By this point, he'd zoned himself out. Sitting in the corner, sunglasses on, my headphones, playing Solitaire. No word of a lie. Forty minutes passed. We spent that forty minutes trying to work out what the hell he meant. She'd put her arm around me- no reaction. We stayed like that, because it was comfortable. Yet we couldn't look at each other. Because no matter our feelings before, he'd put the idea in our heads. And we were both thinking the exact same thing.
Eventually, after these forty minutes had removed our sense of (poise and) rationality, I decided to leave. This was far too weird for any comprehension. At this, the tall one rejoined reality. He seemed confused by my imminent departure. At this, the elder librarian made a decision.
"Look," she said. And then kissed me.
As in, full on making out.
I'm not ashamed to say my initial reaction was one of an audible "Uhh!"
After a few seconds, I'll admit, I regained enough sense to pull away. Apparently the tall one didn't even blink. To be honest, I wasn't focused on him.
Uhh.
Somehow, the conversation diverted to technique. I said I wasn't sure how good I was- so she kissed me again. And started giving advice.
Nope, leaving, leaving.
Hours later, I received explanation via a group chat. Yes, it was a punishment to himself. Yes, he really didn't care. Something else. Oh yeah, they were going to try a more open relationship- with me as test subject numero uno.