How to deal with a man with a story and a gun


How to deal with a man with a story and a gun

When Lisa romeo recalls her first college relationship, she was willing to ignore a lot – until she didn’t.

My boyfriend used this confidence, this grim expression. “Don’t worry. You’re safe here. I’ll be back in an hour. ”

When he left, he shut the bedroom door behind him, I heard the key to the padlock on the other side – he installed his drunkenness or stones at the back of the apartment partners are “borrow” his cigar, mini fridge, then hit me.

I’m a freshman at the state university of New York, majoring in journalism, and I worked for this guy in the first week of September. Even though I was young in college, and I was 18 until the fall, people always said to me, “she’s so mature, so ordinary,” and I didn’t want to miss it, but the desire was unwise, a little wild. In high school, I was mostly confident, smart, predictable, usually Italian and Catholic, and if they were girls, it was me.

I think I’ve done it. I want different things, different people.

The man was short, fat, pale, and of course a little old. He returned to college at the age of 24, while germans, or protestants, never attended high school. Different, but not a bad guy, not a mean guy, not a man I can’t take home with me.

He was not alone. He is a man.

A man of the past. A story.

The man said he was working undercover as a national police and rescue worker until last summer. Sometimes he had to skip classes and drive to other parts of the country to do experiments or upgrade scuba training. There was a big gun in the glove box of his car. He took me to the shooting range to teach me how to shoot. We don’t need to enter some bar, because he may was arrested for approval, I learn to ignore some phones, 3 o ‘clock in the morning by the lake near the left, to assist the missing crew telephone, I learned to don’t and don’t ask for more.

After graduating from high school, he tried community college, then went to police college, where he proved himself very good and was a diver who was recruited by the national police. Until then, he had always loved photography. When he burned the police, he went to college, took core courses, and eventually studied newspapers and magazines in the same prestigious journalism class. He may be one of the first full-time freshmen.

I like his story. It’s a great story, and I see every part of it as a true story, his true story. Maybe some of them are.

In addition to the more typical students, my boyfriend was a mature boyfriend at this level, and he was sure that we only drank a little, were rarely drunk, and smoked POTS, but no further experiments were carried out. For me, this is good because parties often lead to unsubmitted hooks, and I want to avoid the typical new-born friend’s state of interest and turn to relationships. I am eager to find a real boyfriend, I can lose my virginity, he would be interested to become indispensable to me, help me to calculate the hockey team work, let me surprise is the hot chocolate and croissant. Studying all night keeps me stable on my expensive horse. Dad arranged for car service for these trips, but after the first week we worked together, the drive to the stables was a hot day. More than once, I felt uneasy sitting in the stable, caressing and emptying at the end of the barn.

I was a freshman at the state university of New York, majoring in journalism, and I paid a heavy price for this guy in the first week of September.

My boyfriend’s brother lives nearby, but he often works on the road. By early October, his empty loft apartment, eight miles from campus, seemed to belong to us. On Friday, we want to seize the clothes and books, going to the grocery store, then until Sunday night – in our underwear, cook, claw foot bath in the shower, keep in a queen-size bed, sleep, and then repeat.

We’re a strange visual game. I stood on him, my Mediterranean color and thick hair compared to his pancake skin color and long blond locks. I know he’s not smart, but most of all he’s a photographer, an artist, and it’s a great inspiration. The real problem, even after dating, fucking and months of house, really understanding him, seems to be something behind the story of the confident face. I suspect the work of the police may mean that he learns to hide his true self and needs more time to infiltrate.

I know he likes simple but basically scary things – archery hunting, scuba diving, shooting range – and simple things – family dinners, road trips, shooting nature. However, under my hypothetical false excuse and true shyness, I had some days of uneasiness. Other days, the launch failed. I attribute some of this to the short man syndrome, some of which grew up in a family and rarely talked about anything except the weather, or whether the fish were human.

In his story, I think, I glimpsed a more authentic version of him: catching the bad guy, rehabilitating the pregnant girlfriend of the dealership, finding out what (or who) to find in the lake. More than once, when we exploded on the western highway, being stopped by cavalry led to conversations, smiles and waves. I am grateful for some strange sense of power and recognition. And the attraction of animals.

I never worry about the guns in the glove box.

On a Saturday night in February, my boyfriend locked his room in his room at one o ‘clock in the afternoon – a prime time for his roommate to get upset. He needs to pick up his brother from the airport. It was ten degrees. It was snowing. I had to go to the equestrian competition at half past five. I can through the hall to my room, but before that, I don’t have much of the night, when we are at the center of the cold night from New York City in one or two people came in, we will fall in love with sex. I remembered the stern welcome his black leather jacket had received on my chest, and we were all excited, because even when I was asleep, I was naked. After taking off my coat, I wanted to be ready to push my butt off my shoulder, put it on the floor under the bed, and put my hand on his torso.

When he left, he shut the bedroom door behind him, I heard the key to the padlock on the other side – he installed his drunkenness or stones at the back of the apartment partners are “borrow” his cigar, mini fridge, then hit me.

I told myself he locked me in a sweet protective position. After a few months, I never thought that locking someone down on the third floor was the wrong way. How can I leave in an emergency? If a nearby building catches fire, as happened in previous months, the dormitory is evacuated. What if I just need the bathroom? If he does not believe most roommate realized that I was there, decided to flirt with me, or hide some cigars, drunk, tall, or just courage, his six feet hit on the door to the fragile?

All these questions are late. But that night, alone, I was basically locked up, and I felt that suspicion had begun to spread. Slowly, from that moment on, I began to question my boyfriend and wonder who he was, mainly about his story. If a former cop trusts a simple hardware store padlock, if he thinks I’m really in danger? Or is it an act of controlling the freak? The gun was in the glove box, and the man was often tied under his leather jacket, often in his bedside drawer, even legally. That night, while I waited, I had some vague suspicions, and when he came back, he totally ignored his cold body.

He often warned, “never talk about my police work in front of my house.” “It could put them in danger.”

We saw many of his brothers, and his parents were often enough, because their home was only 80 miles away. In the end, I began to suspect that if I mentioned “the police,” he might take him to heart. He was afraid he was in danger — but I couldn’t. Maybe I don’t want to know. I fell in love with my first true love, someone who cared about me, someone who was different from me, but I felt safe, especially in bed. Although I may not have experienced such complete behavior in front of him, I have a, I know an exciting climax. Finally, I have a lot of them almost every day. More importantly, we are serious and I want to continue to say love to those who love him. I want to stay in his brother’s apartment more over the weekend, want to continue to have a avoid drugs and drunken night loyal boyfriend, want to continue to run, want to be such a person, I can stop all the trouble.

So I didn’t talk about his police work in front of my family. Neither did they.

Break up, he almost nothing can be done in the past, I realized that everything – just before the end of the spring term at home, just after pregnancy of false alarm – I don’t jump too fast too deep into a true love, a I really don’t know. Every time I go out for ice cream, I don’t want a gun in the glove box, or whenever he puts pressure on my body to feel it under that jacket, or if he can get a condom.

When I began to spend too much time worrying about where is the gun, hope that when you’re not near, I finally realized that not sexy gun, get rid of the foreseeable I choose not to need to involve many questions, not in the end, these stories are important – a picture to illustrate a story couldn’t say.


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