Creative Nonfiction

I’m always getting myself into awkward situations—I can’t help it, it’s just my personality—and yet, somehow making it out in one piece. The tale I’m about to reveal deals with a not-so-complicated lover’s triangle between me and an unknowingly pair of brothers. No, I did not date them both at once, but the timeline sure came close. Here’s the story of how I dated my boyfriend’s brother. 

So, it began back in high school with me meeting a guy through social media. That’s how most people do it nowadays, right? He was the typical “tall, dark, and handsome” although he was a bit on the young side being three years my junior. A bit into petty drugs, he was the typical bad boy that my parent never liked. I didn’t care; I liked him. Against my better judgement (and being a hopeless Libran romantic), I had decided to give him a chance and date. We were good for a couple of months, even making it to a year. I did meet him in person which was a bonus. We were instantly compatible! I was infatuated with everything about him. He was noticeably taller than me with chocolate skin and dark curly hair that I loved running my fingers through. Honestly, he wasn’t my typical choice of guys, but I was still happy with him. He didn’t drive, but I wasn’t too bothered with that. The romance was fun and daring. He played his role as a “bad boy” perfectly. 

I started to feel the strain on our “situation’ship” (I call it that because we never really had official titles) when we reached year two. We didn’t see each other as much as we used to due to his family moving a county away. It wasn’t impossible, but it wasted my gas and I wasn’t very fond of that. That led into a wave of arguments and I was at my wits end with it all. We stopped talking for months, and honestly, I wasn’t all that sad over it. Life went on, and I was preparing for summer break. I love summertime. It's my favorite season. I loved the warmth and the beach fun and potential vacations … I participated in none of them. 

My whole summer was mostly spent inside with my dog. We were homebodies and she kept me comfortable. It was on one extremely sunny day that I was taking my dog out for a walk around the block when I met him. He was on his phone, standing against the gate that outlined the public pool. He was taller than the guy I was seeing with light brown skin and short brown hair. He was quite fit with muscles visibly noticeable underneath his shirt. He was gorgeous, and I found myself swooning. 

I didn’t say the first word, but I made myself present when I guided my dog around the gate, deliberately slowing down my pace until he saw me passing. To my delight, it worked. He ran after me and asked for my name and if I'd lived in the neighborhood. He was younger than me but only by a year. He didn’t drive either, but come to find out, he lived in the same neighborhood which made it much easier on my pockets. I wouldn’t have called this “love”, more so, just another infatuation period of my life, but I was certainly much happier. 

We began spending more time together, and the more I was with him, the less I thought about the other guy that moved away. Did we officially break up? I'm not sure, but the notion was implied. Life went on and we even graduated to the level of sleepovers. He made me laugh. He lightened up my day. He was free of drugs and in no legal trouble; a much better candidate to earn my parent’s likeability. I grew to know his family and earned their trust; the previous guy now a distant, faded memory. 

I was over his house one night, and we had a conversation. We talked about our lives, schooling, and hobbies; the usual, right? He brought up the topic of friends and who we had in common. Certain that we didn’t know anybody the same, I agreed to continue talking. The conversation was fun; playing the name game with a variety of people. One person had particularly caught my attention. He had mentioned a familiar name and my face turned up in a horrific frown. He’d asked me what was wrong, but I couldn’t say anything. My words were lost. My jaw had dropped. It was my worst nightmare. I had come to realize that the guy whom I was messing around with earlier was, in fact, the new guy’s brother! Sitting there in his house, totally starstruck, he knew something was wrong, but I left the subject alone. 


The question now remained about what ever became of me and the other guy. I never told him, in fact, I kept it a secret even until now. It doesn’t mean too much to me now as it did back then. I had moved on from the new guy, now fully single enjoying life. Every now and then we still talk. I talk to them both, but on very different levels of emotional connection. They both still have feelings for me; one greater than the other. I see my first boy toy often when he comes back around the neighborhood every now and then. As for the other guy, not so much. We may talk but that would be it. Within the following year, I had moved myself, and the contact with the second guy fell off completely. 

I don’t feel sad about the outcome, nor do I feel like changing it. It was a life lesson to not be so careless when dating around. It was an interesting experience. I've never had to deal with a semi-love triangle. I still talk to one brother and if that bond from the path is still there, then I'm happy for the friendship. It just goes to show you that you never know who may know who in the area. 

February 09, 2020 00:44

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