Friday night I’m watching the Social Network at a movie theater in Cerritos. As soon as the credits start rolling at the end of the film I turn my phone back on. Lo and behold, I’m met with a helluva surprise:
On my phone sits a text message from Dan and a voice mail from Edgar.
Dan is in Vegas at the moment, preparing to see the Los Angeles Kings go up against the Colorado Avalanche at the annual Frozen Fury hockey game at the MGM Grand. I have attended this annual game with him for the past three years and this is the first time I have not gone.
Dan: You and I need to come to Las Vegas and stay at the signature suites at the MGM. Frakken amazing.I don’t even know how to reply….I wonder sometimes if he realizes I am now his ex-girlfriend. Maybe I should re-think getting back with him. I think he’s convinced we still are. (sigh sigh sigh)
And now onto the nervous task of listening to Edgar’s voice mail:
Hey […] it’s me Edgar. I’m just calling you back after months –uh, after weeks and weeks of just missing your messages. I wasn’t ignoring you; believe it or not I wasn’t ignoring you. I was actually stuck in that wonderful, wonderful law school library which I fucking hate and which I’m leaving right now. I wanna see you tonight, but -uh if you’re busy, you’re busy. So I guess I’ll talk to you later. Take it easy. Bye.I see that he called me around 11 pm and it is now 12:50 a.m. I gulp, take a deep breath, dial him back and squeeze my eyes shut as I hear his line ring and ring and ring.
It goes to voice mail, of course. I leave him a quick message where I joke around that we are eternally missing each other and that he must be toying with me on purpose. I shoot him a text and hope for the best:
Me: You and I are a series of missed connections…it’s almost comical, really. Call me :)
The drive home is fraught with wildly irrational scenarios of what is going on with him. We’ve been exchanging comments on FB for weeks now and all his status updates have been about how busy he is with law school. I’m a little impressed he would seek me out so close to the start of his midterms. Sounds like he needs a little oral fixation to clear his mind….
I get home and crawl into bed, not at all shocked that he never got back to me. I’m sure he grew tired of waiting for me while I was at the movies and fell asleep. I turn out the light but not before shooting him one last desperate text:
Me: Going to bed now. I’m available tomorrow night for a study break….or two. If I don’t hear from you, we’ll just add another to the loss column. That’s actually a lie. I did have plans the following night which ended up costing me a pretty penny. I showed up at Book Soup in West Hollywood to attend a book signing for author, Bad Religion lead singer, UCLA biology professor and all-around legendary punk icon Greg Graffin. I got to meet him and he signed my copy of his latest book “Anarchy Evolution” and a copy of Bad Religion’s brand-new album “The Dissent of Man.” He even posed for pictures! Well, I wandered out of the book store (dazed and in awe of what had happened!) just in time to see my car get towed. Apparently, I had parked in a restricted area. Oh well, a $10 cab ride and $160 tow fee later, I had my trusty Toyota Corolla back. To add insult to injury, the city of Los Angeles had the good sense to slap a $52 parking ticket to my windshield. After coming home and getting scolded by my mom about the parking ticket, I headed to Montebello to hang out with my friends Sandy and Mayra for some much needed girl time.
The girls did their best to take my mind off the whole towing situation with pizza, candy, booze, Dorito’s, paper pirate hats and Halloween decorations to get the in the spirit of the month. We were in the middle of some hilarious conversation when I hear my phone go off. It’s Edgar. I stare at the caller ID light up with his name and inhale sharply. I turn to my friends and say, “Uhhh sorry, I gotta take this. It’s my ex-boyfriend.” The girls both smile at me and start chattering about this interesting turn of events as I step outside into the cold, crisp October night (still wearing the paper pirate hat, mind you) and answer.
Edgar and I have our usual awkward conversation where we beat around the bush about wanting so bad to see each other. I always can tell he wants to come over but is afraid of sounding pushy or like he wants it more than me. I’m always the one with the least amount of patience that capitulates and insist he drive over. I give him directions to Mayra’s house and wait for him to show up.
I let my friends know what’s going down for the night and they fiendishly insist he come inside for some pizza and beer. I agree and wonder how he’ll act in front of my friends. He hasn’t had to face a pack of my girlfriends in years. Not since that fateful night at the Starbucks in the spring of 2006…..
Almost exactly 20 minutes later he’s nearing Mayra’s house. I remove the pirate hat and step out into the sidewalk to flag him down. Apparently I gave him directions for someone coming the opposite way and he has to make a few U-turns to get to me. I smirk when he refers to making a U-turn as “busting a bitch.” Gotta love that East L.A. slang.
I see his Solara pull up slowly and walk up to his passenger side window. I ask he roll down the window and peek my head in. Delightfully, I can smell the familiar scent of his cologne. He looks so good just sitting there with his hands on the steering wheel, illuminated only by the light of all the gadgets on his car’s dashboard. “Park your car. My friends are requesting your presence inside.” He laughs and asks if that’s so. “Is there anyone that I might know in there?” he asks with a hint of caution. I shake my head, “Nope. They both went to parochial school. You don’t know them. Come on inside. I’ll make it up to you later.” He makes a happy noise, dutifully parks and follows me inside but not before giving me a big hug. I lovingly kiss his right cheek and tell him I missed him. He smiles and grabs my hand so I can lead him inside. Before we open the door, we can hear the girls laughing loudly. “Oh no….I hear cackling. Should I be worried?” he jokingly asks. I turn back to him and squeeze his hand, “You should be afraid. Very afraid. They’re gonna size you up.”
I slowly open the door and ask everyone inside if they’ve got their clothes on. Sandy laughs and makes a joke about all of us being naked. So introductions are made, laughter soon resumes as we start talking and joking around. At first Edgar looks nervous as he stands there with his hands in his pockets, wearing a black Alkaline Trio shirt and jeans but soon, he starts warming up and opens up to everyone. He prefers to stay standing since he’s been sitting in the law school library all week. I stand next to him and immediately start making cracks about how much of nerd he’s become lately and how he’s become a bit of a studious hermit. He keeps a perpetual grin on his face as he describes how grueling the coursework is but how he has managed to keep his sanity. He thanks us girls profusely for being a distraction from the boring world of torts, case briefings and in-class debates about court rulings. I love how easily he is able to maintain the conversation with all of us girls and keep all of us laughing. I wish I could remember all the things we were cracking up about….suffice to say, my friends were impressed. At one point, he brought up some bit from comedian Azis Ansari and we both started reciting it word for word. I asked if he was going to see him perform next month and he lamented that tickets were too expensive. I shake my head and said there’s no way they can be that expensive and that he should leave the ticket buying to an “expert” like me. I said I could get us a pair for cheap. He gives me a knowing smile and says he’ll go with me if I can pull it off. I stop for a second and ask the girls if he just asked me out on a date. Edgar’s face lights up and he reasons that since I’m a Berkeley graduate, I must be a pro-feminist, independent woman and far be it for him to stand in my way. “Well played, Cruz!” I tell him as I playfully try to kick him. Further on, he tells us he’s looking forward to telling his study group that he spent the weekend surrounded by girls. “You should tell them you were hanging out with three broads” I suggest to which he laughs and repeats back to himself. “Yeah, I’m gonna say it just like that….three broads” he says and I quickly tell him he better cite me as a source for that comment. He shakes his head and jokingly refuses. “Well, then that’s theft. My comment is intellectual property!” I say in mock outrage. He gives me another killer smile and says “No, it’s not. You haven’t trademarked it.” I giggle and tell him I shouldn’t use legal terms in front of him any longer, he’s got me beat there.
Soon the conversation dies down and we notice it’s getting late. Edgar shakes each girl’s hand and thanks them for a lovely evening. He turns to me and asks, “Are you ready?” I nod and say I’ll walk him out to his car. I get in and he drives half a block up so that we're out of the way of passing motorists.
Inside the car, I thank him for being so great with my friends and making them laugh. He shrugs and says it’s no big deal, that he doesn’t mind being polite and charming when the situation calls for it. I kiss him passionately on the mouth and he returns the favor. He kisses my neck and asks if I’ve missed him. I sigh and say of course I have. "Have you been thinking about me?” he whispers as I run my lips across his neck and ear. I giggle and say yes, of course: silly boy, always needing reassurance. I ask him if he’s been thinking about me, to which he replies “All the time.” I pull off my shirt and fling it into the backseat. He reaches behind my back to start and undo my bra. He takes his time while I softly cheer him on: “Come on…you got it…go, go go!” He shakes his head and laughs there in the dark and manages to pull it off with minimal trouble. He immediately buries his face in my chest and sucks on each one so hard, it’s almost painful. I have to keep whispering for him to go easy on me. The windows start steaming. I’m losing every little bit of control. And he’s just so fucking excited; he lets me feel his erection and my mind is racing. Edgar has me recline in the passenger seat and he reaches into my jeans. I know exactly where he’s headed and undo my zipper and slip my jeans past my knees. I pull my panties down and he works me for a long while, getting me so close I could scream. I hear my fingernails claw the passenger door as I get incredibly close. He doesn’t break eye contact as he rubs that stubborn little spot, propelling me toward a very abrupt and harsh orgasm. They always feel this way with him. I beg him to not stop, to just wrench them out of me. And I finally do come, looking up through his car’s moon roof at the dark night sky and branches of a nearby tree. It’s insane. I hear myself gasping and crying out. As soon as I can breathe again, I put my bra back on and beg him to let me suck him off. He doesn’t even protest just unzips his pants and off we go.
I think by now I am a total pro at getting him to come. Or it's just been so long that he's incredibly sensitive? I'll never really know. But I can tell when he's about to...it's fun to hear my own muffled cries as my face is buried in his lap. I sometimes forget to breathe which inevitably leaves me dizzy. He keeps saying he wants to fuck me so hard. And all I can do is moan "mmm-hmm" in the affirmative. And then I feel it in the back of my throat, he's groaning and then it's like choked breaths...and he's gasping "Okay, there it is...there it is..." and he groans again. Suddenly, the familiar taste of salty, hot semen fills my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow, hoping it's all done. I slowly draw him out of my mouth and ask with my numbed mouth, "All done?" He shakes his head and slumps back in the driver's seat, "Yeah...yeah..."
We stop to rest and mull over what just happened. It's like our own brand of pillow talk....uhhh, more like front seat talk, right?
It doesn't last long. He wants to return the favor now. Again. So I don't mind and since my jeans are already undone, he quickly reaches past my panties and has me pinned in my seat in no time. In a matter of minutes, I'm writhing and begging for him to just make me come already. And in a kinky turn of events, he puts his left hand over my mouth and lets me scream. He works me mercilessly with his right hand, leaving me to wonder if he's making me get so close to finishing on purpose or out of ignorance? I'd rather not know at this height in the game. Either way, my screams are being muffled by his hand. I'm doing my best not to lick his palm by accident. Pretty soon, I'm sobbing against his hand when I finally do come in a violent spasm. It's kind of sexy and scary that I felt like he was trying to suffocate me...or stifle my cries like a crazy rapist. Is that bad?
He doesn't let me rest, he goes back to ravaging my clit. I beg him to just fuck me now. "But I-I-I can't, not right now" he loudly whispers to me. I shake my head, feeling like I'm possessed: "NO. With your finger! Just fuck me, please!" He obeys and uses his two fingers to work me from inside. He hurtles me once more into a hot, harsh orgasm. I feel tenderized. I feel insane.
Once we've recovered and gotten semi-dressed, we sit and talk about music. He says there's a couple of songs he wants me to hear. He plays "Slob my Nob" by Murs, an underground hip-hop artist. He claims this song reminds him of me. I tell him I don't know whether I should be flattered or horrified. I hope he wasn't serious. The second song is called "Sound Waves and Sound Bytes" by Chiqui Dracula. That name sounds familiar. I shoot him a glance and ask, "Isn't that one of the many unflattering nicknames you have?" He looks back at me and a wave of amusement washes over his face, "How did you know that?" I shrug and say that all his cousins call him that on Facebook. He plays the song anyway and I immediately recognize his voice. It's Edgar singing along to an acoustic guitar. He's singing a very emo-like song about memories and moments in our lives. It's not bad, but it's also not very good. I listen in silence as he watches me intently. I slowly smile and ask him how long ago he recorded this. "Back in August. That's my cousin on guitar." Once the song ends, he asks me for my honest opinion. I do my best to try and give creative criticism, but he insists I'm being too nice and that I should be brutally honest. Well, along the way, I kind of imply that his voice is a little whiny. That wounds him and he gives me a hard time about it for the rest of the night. I try and soften the blow by cradling his head in my arms as he rests on my chest. I kiss him on the forehead and tell him to get over it. He laughs and says I'm mean.
I look at the clock on his dash and see it's almost 3 a.m. I know he needs to be up and back at the library in a few more hours. I tell him I should go. "No, no, stay....please" he begs and holds my hand. I ask why and he states simply: "Because if you go right now, it'll be a lot longer until I see you again."
That's about the most romantic thing he's ever said to me. I bite my lip and tell myself not to let him get to me. Don't let the pretty words get in your head!!!
Too late. I sit around in his car some more, talking about life and kissing his fingers intermittently. He reaches over his center console to kiss me like a feverish teenager. Finally, about a half hour later, we both give in and decide it's time to go. I start to get out but he insists on driving me back to the house. We do our usual long goodbye, complete with a million kisses and whispered words. I ask if he's serious about going to see Aziz Ansari with me. He says yes and asks when it is. I tell him I'll FB him the details. He says goodnight to me and calls me by my first name. I swoon and say goodnight back.
I wobble back inside to the cheers of Sandy and Mayra. I tell them I deserve a slow clap, like in the movies. My vagina feels like it's been on the highway to hell. Ouch!
The next morning I send off a message on Facebook:
Alright, so Aziz Ansari will be performing at the Orpheum in L.A. on Saturday 11/20/10 at 7:00 PM. If you're down, I'll get us a pair of tix because I'm a hardcore Berkeley feminist and apparently that's how I roll. lol . Let me know soon please.
Last nite was fun, as always. Take it easy and GOOD LUCK ON YOUR MIDTERMS.I won't expect an answer. I've learned to expect very little from Edgar. I only exist to him in the dark. I remember I asked him when was the last time we've hung out in the daylight. We both said "In years" at the same time.
You won't worm your way back into my thoughts, Ed. I know how this story goes already.
