Damn it, I’m still a girl.
I have no idea why, but this guy is kryptonite to the walls around my heart.
Originally I saw him on Twitter. Something about his picture, his aloof tweets.. just snagged me and I had to meet him. I twitter-stalked him. I watched his tweets, watched for his likes, his dislikes.. I wanted to know more. I then began replying to his tweets, at first coyly, then semi-provacatively.
We began to chat. He’d give me crap about things I was doing, places I’d go, or laugh at my silly twitter jokes. I’d tease him with places I’d go, invite him last minute when he had other plans, and otherwise annoy him.
We played cat and mouse for about a month on Twitter before we finally met for a date. He is 13 yrs younger than me, and in many ways not a viable candidate for a long term relationship. At the time, I had just gotten separated and while I wanted something stable, I was trying to keep my mind open.
We went to a local restaurant at which he barely looked at me. He played with his iPhone constantly. SMSing his roommate. I persuaded him to show me the txts, and saw…
“So how’s your date, is she hot?”
To which I stole his phone and replied, “Oh hell no, she was a dog, so I ditched her and am macking on some hot chicks I met at the bar.”
He voted me “Awesome Sense of Humor” and the three of us had a good laugh. After that, he was on his phone much less.
We have little in common otherwise. He likes horror movies, and action flicks.. I like brainy movies, and chick flicks. He’s just barely out of the beer-bong parties, and I’m into wine and cheese.
But when I’m around him, all I want to do is be around him… naked. (sigh)
We went out (I use this term loosely as we mostly just stayed in and watched movies and had sex.) for almost 2 weeks, then he flipped a switch and started being a total asshole. We broke up “officially” on my birthday. (Yeah I know, happy birthday Maruska!)
That should have cured me of him, but it didn’t. I missed him, but I let it go.
A couple months later, after he heard my divorce was final, he began messaging me again. Stressing how much he wanted to get back together and how he regretted letting me go. I let him sweat for a week or so, before I finally agreed to meet him for lunch. We had a good lunch. He walked me to my car, and hugged me.
I was a goner again. The hug was all it took. Something about being in his arms, the smell if his neck, the way he looks at me with his eyes.. SHIT.
I messaged him that I had a good time, he replied that I looked good and it was great seeing me.
Weeks pass and I don’t hear anything from him.
Then he messages me that he has a bunch of free time coming up and he wants to spend it with me, but when the time comes up I hear nothing more.
So a couple weeks pass, and I bitchily message him. “So what happened to your wanting to get together?”
He replies that he’s been busy. Then messages again that he’s lying, he’s had loads of free time, but has been out of sorts describing a kind of depression to which I can relate.
A few days later, he messages me. He has a free afternoon and wants to spend it with me. I of course am non-commital and slightly uncooperative. These months of being apart, and the crap he put me through, had nearly drowned out the pleasant memories. It wasn’t until we were actually supposed to meet that I decided to go.
I suppose if I’m really honest with myself, I decided to go the minute he messaged me, but I pretended to argue with myself and talk myself into it for the next 48 hours. I wanted to see him again. Mostly because I wanted to torture him. I wanted him to see what he’d been missing and could have had all these months. I wanted him to suffer.
So the day of our meeting, I procrastinated getting ready. I procrastinated messaging him back. I did courteously message him to tell him I was going to be late 1:53 p.m. (I was supposed to arrive 1:30-2 p.m.). Then took my time responding to his “When do you think you’ll get here?”, but replied with an accurate time frame.
We were just going to hang out and watch a movie. He makes little to no money, and has a touch of pride where I’m not “allowed” to pay more than half, and a sneaking suspicion that I’m not really allowed to pay for that. So we were to meet at his place, which in all our time together I was never allowed to see. I was excited to see his lair, and excited at the thought that for once he’d have to clean his place.
So I dressed accordingly in shorts and a t-shirt. However, since I wanted him to suffer, the shorts were short and tight, and the t-shirt was so low cut that it barely covered my bra. I had on my good cleavage bra as well which pushed them up to the point of saying “Yes, I do have very large tits.” and “You wanna come play with me?” I might have been technically dressed for a casual afternoon, but my outfit said “You know you want me”, and I liked it.
I promised myself that I was not going to sleep with him, no matter what happened. Yet, I showered and shaved. When dressing, I made sure to put on my sexy underwear. (I seriously have a mental condition when it comes to this guy.)
I arrived at 2:20 p.m. and I walked in as if I wasn’t late and didn’t apologize for it. He welcomed me in, and showed me around. It was a decent apartment for a bachelor pad, and actually cleaner than my apt right now.
He however took the remote for the tv, and got me back by flipping through the channels for a few minutes, watching hockey for a few minutes, and otherwise being as annoying with the remote as possible before he started the movie. He didn’t ask my input or opinion on what to watch, though I’d have spoken up if it was something too horrid. I hadn’t seen the movie he picked out, and it wasn’t on my “Hell will freeze over before I’ll watch it” list, so I sat and tried to enjoy it.
Watching Eagle Eye together for the first time, really is a bonding experience. We were both shouting at the tv “WTF” several times throughout the film.
When the film was over, we had a few awkward moments of “What to do now?” He showed me his room. It was much cleaner than he’d ever described it, and when I commented on it, he said he’d cleaned and shoved it all in his closet. It was so “little boy” that it was cute. The room was small as we saw its entirety from standing in the hall way and peered in. A small desk, a lamp, and a twin sized bed.
He was self-conscious about that bed. It was small and not good for entertaining women, but from the size of the room, he couldn’t fit anything bigger. He was nervous about my reaction to seeing his room, and it was endearing. He was being open and letting me see a part of him, a part that he was scared would run me off.
He never made a move to touch me the entire time I was there. Over the last few months, I’d convinced myself that he was only out for some casual sex relationship. While his behavior didn’t totally negate that, it did leave me confused and a touch hopeful that he wanted something a little more than that.
As I left, I watched to see if he would want to touch me, or if he was signaling that he wanted a kiss. There was nothing. I was on the other side of the door, and could have fled down the stairs uninhibited, when I stopped and motioned that I wanted to hug goodbye.
I could have. I should have walked away. I should have gone down the steps untouched. Up until this point, he was just a guy. Some friend. Who cares.
We hugged. As his arms went around me and held me tight, there was no place on earth I would have rather been. It was like coming home. It was like being wrapped in a large comforter on a cold night. The scent of him was clean and fresh and delectable. I wanted to kiss his neck. I never wanted him to let go. This wasn’t some animalistic “I must have you” lust, but something more along the lines of ‘instant love’. I would have had sex with him, but all I really wanted him to do was to hold me.. Forever.
The hug ended sooner than I wanted, and I felt a bit of my heart tear as we parted. By the time I got to my car, I was officially sad. Tears would have come at any time if I’d have let them. My brain was spinning a broken record of “WTF”.
I pulled myself together, and went to run some errands. About 10 minutes later, he txt’d me.
“It was good seeing you. You smelled great and looked good. Wish we could have spent more time together.”
I replied that it was good to see him as well, and see his place.
“Maybe next time, you can stay later. Spend the night in my small bed.”
This last text followed by several more joking about the size of his bed (maybe it’d be better to spend the night on my bed), and how much he wants to see me again.
So I’m half-convinced all he wants is sex, in which I’ll get my heart torn to shreds. But he also likes me enough that he wants to “spend the night”.
I should run like the wind. But I know I won’t. I really am a masochist.