Okay: so do you want the bad news? Or the enormously, giddy, thrilling news?
Let's start with the bad news and how I've finally grown a backbone to vacate all the ridiculous shit that was crowding my heart.
1. Erased Edgar's number. If he ever calls, I'm telling him to eat a dick.
2. Texted Rob my resignation. It's over, I don't want to do that with him ever again. Maybe in some other lifetime.
3. I've stopped bothering with losers, guys who can't spell, perverts and weirdos. No more text/flirting with Jay, who I'm convinced is obsessed with sex. He sent me a picture of his dick and I freaked out. DELETED. So fucking gross.
4. No more pity dates. Almost went out on a date with this kid who I refer to as "Turkey" because he decided Thanksgiving was a good time to stalk me. His name on my phone is now "Don't Answer!!"
5. But the hardest of all was telling Dan that I no longer want to see him socially or be involved physically. We stayed up until 2 am talking about it...and in the morning before work, we both agreed to just make a clean break. I didn't shed a tear.
(sigh)
That was my 2 and a half week cleanse of stupid boys. And when the fog cleared, when I decided to just be adventurous and go for it, when I felt that invigorating feeling of reckless abandon, I asked my best friend Lauren if she remembered a guy who had been at one of her parties a couple summers ago.
Flashback summer 2009: I'm at Lauren and Mike's house in Pasadena. It's a warm night and everyone's crowding their apartment, alcoholic drink in hand. Dan and I make the rounds talking to all of Lauren's new friends. I sip some delicious concoction Lola has served in a red frat boy cup. I run into this kid, messy hair and beard. I didn't even find anything striking about him, other than that he's funny and won't stop staring at my boobs despite the fact that my then-boyfriend is only a few feet away. I don't even know his name, but I'm going on and on about what I do for a living. This boy is not listening, he's just wagging his head as I prattle on, red cup in my right hand and gesturing wildly (as I do when I'm tipsy) with my left hand. I can't blame him, my breasts are just spilling out of my black tank top. I see him one more time later on in the evening as we're all smoking a joint in Mike's room. I remember my last, faint memory of that bearded kid is scoffing at how rude he was for just gluing his eyes at my cleavage. Pffft. How immature.Lauren immediately knew who I was talking about, "Yeah that's Ryan." I try and remember hard, but I'm not even sure what he looks like. I ask if she's sure and I try in vain to better describe him, but she's certain it's a guy named Ryan. She pulls up his picture on Facebook and my stomach drops. He's so cute. He looks a little like Chino Moreno from the Deftones. He has a cute smile. She tells me he lives nearby in Echo Park. I ask if it would be weird to ask him out....but I've already made up my mind I'm going to do it. I barely remembered his face, he must certainly remember my fantastic tits.
And then came the most delicious, exciting, dreamy whirlwind of events: the moments leading up to our first face-to-face encounter in over 2 years.
Friend request accepted. Messages exchanged on Facebook, slight flirtation. References made to going out on a date sometime, references received well. Cell numbers exchanged. Lovely, smile-producing texts: MY GOD, I was grinning ear to ear on Monday afternoon. I felt like a fool, but a happy, giddy fool. I was giggling like a school girl at his texts. Ryan's pretty funny, very witty and sharp. He doesn't come off creepy, he doesn't come off desperate or pathetic. There's nothing in his words that make me feel weird. In fact, he's charming. Is this the same rude boy who ogled my breasts? I don't believe it.
It's late Monday night, I've come back from seeing my idol Morrissey in concert. Ryan asks if I'd like to come and have some "delicious cheeseburger mac and cheese" after the show. I swoon a little. But I read the subtext (I mean, you can't help it)...is this going to be a booty call? No, no, no...please don't turn into a pervert. I'm tired, but I'm incredibly curious. He lives with a roommate, who is luckily gone until New Year's. I can't resist, he's just so adorable. And so I take off into the middle of the night, speeding past the old heartbroken me. This new version of me is full of expectations and bursting with excitement. I arrive at his house and call him. "Hello?" he answers in a deep voice I was not expecting and my stomach feels swarmed with butterflies. My breath catches in my throat. "Hi...hi...I'm here" I stammer. It feels like an eternity as I walk up to his front gate. He stands there, clean shaven, his hair nicely combed, a far cry from when I had last seen him. He's wearing a beat up Heaven and Hell shirt with pajama pants. I awkwardly shake his hand, still wearing my Morrissey concert T-shirt. "Hello, it's nice to meet you again" he says with a smile. Perfect. Genuine. What else you got?
And inside his little hipster-y apartment it's warm and it smells like dinner. He serves me a bowl of cheeseburger macaroni and a Session beer. Ryan walks all over his flat telling me about himself, opening drawers and talking to me from every room in the house as I stand there, paralyzed in the living room. Each wave of nervousness making me quake in my Converse. We stand and talk in the kitchen finally, each scooping macaroni out of our bowls. I tell him a little about myself and confess how cute I think he is, "I told Lauren you've got a little bit of a Chino Moreno thing going on." He stops eating, grins and grabs a vinyl record to show me: Deftones 2nd album Around the Fur. One of my absolute favorites.
It's not long before we're sprawled out on his living room rug, listening to vinyl on his record player. That hiss and scratch making me feel all nice and cozy inside. He shows off his record collection to me, each selection more tantalizing than the next: Tears for Fears, The Smiths, Huey Lewis and the News, Men at Work, Toto, Madonna...it goes on and on. He's reveling in how his music geekdom is finally paying off, a girl that likes vinyl and isn't some pretentious bitch....awesome! He plays album after album as I sit there, cross-legged with my jaw open in awe. Is this guy for real? We move to the couch and sit together. I can feel the air is taking a change...."Let me show you the Christmas lights." He clicks off all the lights and we're left in the total darkness, save for some soft white bulbs placed strategically across the living room wall that leads into the kitchen. Kinda romantic, I think. We talk some more, more personal stuff. I love how easy his laugh is, how he tilts his head back to chuckle at my jokes. He keeps excellent eye contact, though I do catch him at times glancing at my chest. I tease him about doing it the first time we met, to which he retorts with a smile: "I mean come on, can you blame me?"
Ryan is 3rd generation Mexican. He's a 29-year old manager of a small movie theater and lives alone with an older lady roommate plus two cats named Mankey and Lily. His knowledge and prowess on music and film trivia is alluring. He gets so excited talking about rock bands, it's endearing. I wonder if maybe that's how I look when I'm going on about musicians and rock music as a whole. We get each other's humor and references. We like each other's style of music....we're just hitting each note perfectly. I remember this feeling, yes....the feeling of good conversation and flawless chemistry. *SQUEAL* I can feel we're clicking at a rapid speed. The speed bump comes when we move onto the topic of God, religion and the afterlife. He's a self-proclaimed atheist and I've got my Catholic leanings with progressive views. I explain my views on death and joke that I'll haunt him someday. He smiles at me, "Oh you're gonna haunt me, eh?" And then there it is....that silence. A spark. I know that trigger, I know we won't be able to stop. I move in, he moves in. Our heads get closer. I can taste his breath and then we're kissing. Hot, narrow mouth. I feel that familiar tickle of a beard coming in. He kisses with an urgency. I taste his tongue, his teeth. Oh I'm falling. I'm falling deeper into a dizzying heat. Then it's caresses on the arm, tracing my tongue down his neck. He kisses my shoulder and I'm gone. He leaves the record player on, our soundtrack for the night. He can't wait to pull my shirt and bra off. And when his mouth finally fastens on my left nipple, I know I'm a goner. He has the softest, most insistent mouth ever. I beg him no sex, though it's clear I want it too. I can't bear to just give in now and have him dump me like so many have before. He promises that we will go out again on Saturday. I look into his eyes, as he assures me that he likes me and would love to keep seeing me. I compromise with a blowjob, which delights him though he begs to get me off as well. I resist though it kills me to refuse. My face is buried in his lap and it's not long before he's coming in my mouth. I think Ryan wins at the most expressive O-face ever. Hah!
I'm a sweaty mess but I have to go, I tell him. He pleads for me to say. "Just a while longer?" he asks, with these eyes of pure adoration. I can't, I can't...the irony is I will be right back in the neighborhood the next morning as he lives only a few blocks from my work. We say goodnight and text each other before bed. I can't sleep that night as my mind is racing with thoughts of him.
The next morning we're back to texting and poking each other on Facebook. My face hurts, I'm smiling so much...ohhh, is that what it's like to really crush on a boy? By the evening, we're both smitten. "You should come play Nintendo later hehe" he texts. Less than 24 hours later, I'm back at his house. He plays more records for me, always the intoxicating foreplay for this gal. We move to his bedroom where I sit on the edge of his double bed, watching him play video games. I suck at them so bad, I'd rather just watch Ryan kill the monsters of Castlevania on an old school Nintendo. As the minutes pass, I get more comfortable and he massages my neck as he holds the controller with one hand. Pretty soon we're making out again. He plays some music on his laptop as we kiss and kiss. I don't think we're gonna make it to Saturday. I know we're not going to.
The sex is amazing. Effortless. Him on top, me on top, 69, blow jobs, doggy style....even spooning sex. His dick (uncut sadly) is impressive. He claims 7 and half inches, but I wonder. Either way, he stays hard for a very long time and is able to come at least twice. His refractory period is short, which I love! A man that can fuck all night is a dream come true. I lose track of my orgasms, remember at least four times where I trembled under his fingers and mouth, gasping his name at the cieling. I can scarcely believe it's nearly midnight when we decide to finally call it quits. I wish I could stay like this forever, wrapped around each other, running my hand down his smooth back. I remember laying naked in his sheets, whispering in his ear: "You're gonna get me in a lot of trouble." He just laughs and kisses my mouth. My vagina is sore...but happy.
That was Tuesday. We text steadily throughout the days but it feels an eternity till Saturday. Tomorrow I'm going over and we're supposed to go on a real "date." A little unorthodox: we're gonna watch the big UFC match and get some drinks. Sex is implied. But honestly, I just wanna spend time with him. I haven't felt this in forever. If I could bottle this feeling, I would. Every corny love song on the radio speaks to me. Every waking moment, I feel my mind drifting to him (plus steamy shag flashbacks). And for once, I feel the guy on the other end feels the same way. JOY!
I figure Lauren has now told Mike about me and Ryan because I get a funny Facebook message:
"You and Ryan huh? I can't believe I didn't see it coming. :)"
And now one without the beard...
