The Men and the Boys: Sandy

Sandy had a girlfriend. The one guy in the world I had a serious thing for was taken. He liked me, or thought he liked me, and had lied the entire time.

I wasn't too happy about any of this, and spent the weekend with the covers over my head nursing the same agonizing thoughts: there was another girl. He had another girl. He had a girl. He thought he liked me because there was someone else. If it wasn't for her, he'd like me for sure. He'd been holding back the entire time, because there had always been another.

That hurt like hell.

I also knew that I could think things to death, but it wouldn't change where I was now, or what I was going to do about it. What was I going to do about it?

When I was ready to face the world again, or at least the phone, I started making calls. Georgia first. Our analysis was late but lasted hours nevertheless; she too had just heard the girlfriend business and had given Matt hell about it. Then, she'd called Sandy, gave him more hell, and let him know that if he ever hurt me she'd skin him alive.

I love my Georgia. I loved her more for getting the other woman 411. A year older than me, student at an all girls school, also tall, also Eastern European and, according to Matt & Co., a real snot. She snubbed them, her nose was stuck in the air, she didn't even treat Sandy all that well either. He'd gone on and on, story after story, freely using the word B word.

How original.

I asked Georgia's opinion and here's what she told me: "I've seen you guys together. You have something. At least try."

What she meant was, try to win him for my very own.

The next call was to Matt. Apology accepted for stringing me along. Oh yeah, why had that happened again? I was floored by the answer I got: "Because we like you."

Last I checked, people who are liked don't get treated like this. He laughed. "No, you don't understand. We like YOU, not her. We want him to be with you."

Okay, you all like me. I'm flattered. What about him? "Aww, you know he does. He's just too bent over her."

If she's that bad, why does he stay? "No idea. But we'd rather he was with you."

Talk about a fan club.

I made one last call. Sandy picked up almost right away and, before I could even say hello, told me he was sorry. He'd never wanted to hurt me, he would rather die than hurt me, but he had to be honest. He'd been having such a good time, I was so easy to be with, it almost freaked him out he could feel so strongly about someone who wasn't his girlfriend.

If it made me feel better, he said, they hadn't gone all the way. You know, the sex thing. That made me laugh, but didn't change anything. "This isn't right, Sandy," I told him.

"It will be alright," he said. "I don't want to lose you."

I should have run. I should have taken off running without looking behind me, leaving this tangled mess to sort itself out, a mess I hadn't even knowingly been a part of. There were no excuses, really.

But I didn't want to lose him, either. I was 16, and in love. Young, foolish, unabashed love. Love always finds a way.

I made my decision. I was going to stay and fight for my man.