Third base achieved both on Tuesday and Thursday. He went first and I took the second night. It's weird, when I don't really fully care about a guy or I'm just treating him like a piece of meat, I don't mind divulging every single, naughty detail. But I've noticed when I have real feelings for a guy, I feel the need to be less descriptive. I feel almost...shy? I'm a little protective and slightly embarrassed to say anything more about our time in the front seat of his Corvette. I will say that Jose is a good listener (hah!), eager and he has uhm....the right size equipment to get the job done. As I told him on Thursday, a particularly sweaty encounter, I feel he and I are going to have ourselves a very, verrrry good time.
I tried not to over-think about us finally having sex. So when it happened all of a sudden this past Saturday, both of us were pleasantly surprised. We hadn't anguished over it too much, though I was starting to go a little sex stir-crazy. Jose had been incredibly restrained about the whole thing. Even when we had the house all to ourselves, he hesitated. He kept making excuses even he knew sounded dumb. "But-but your hair! And your makeup...I don't wanna mess that up..." he stammers but I'm already playing with the buttons of his shirt. He's sooo adorable. I love how nervous I make him. He says he didn't bring any condoms. I tell him I have some in my night stand. He worries my mom will come home any minute. I reply that she won't be home for hours. He shakes his head and avoids eye contact, "No babe..." he starts but I look up at him and smile, "You don't want to anymore?" I flirt. He blushes and says of course he does, all the time. "Well?" I counter and gesture at the bedroom. I hate having to be such so pushy, but I'm tired of waiting and now the need and desire has become too much. He's run out of excuses and he knows it. Jose smiles, "Okay."
It was a bit of an ambush, yes...but worth it.
Our first time was good. Always room for improvement and I know that every time after that will be better than the last. It was sweaty, nervous, a little clumsy but sweet. He had confessed it had been almost double-digit years since he had been with a girl, but wouldn't divulge any more details. I was frank when I told him it had NOT been that long for me. I also wasn't going to describe anything further.
We finished. Got dressed and high-fived each other on the drive to our friend Gretel's graduation party. We finally had sex and it felt great. We stepped into that party a more grown-up couple. We were closer than ever. As he put it, "We made love." That's some real shit right there....
He picked up his friend Johnny's guitar and played "Jealous Guy" by John Lennon for me:
He said he'll learn The Beatles "And I Love Her" on guitar so he can play it for me :D
A few things he has said that night at the party that should scare me but don't....
* He asked me if I've thought about what our future is going to look like. When I kinda balked at giving a straight answer, he rescued me by teasing that I probably already had our kids names picked out. I started laughing and he was all, "Just tell me their names! What are their names?!" I jokingly brought it up again and I gave him a real answer. I told him that for a long time I've like the name Layla Marie for a girl... or Gregory Patrick if it's a boy. He said he liked those names. No hesitation. No fear in his eyes.
* I told him I have a high threshold for pain and he asked if I could carry triplets. I didn't even know what to say and made a crack about my wide birthing hips. He smiled and reminded me that his mom had two sets of twins and that his great grandma pushed out quadruplets. Yikes.
* I was blathering something about my hair and how I had styled it for the party. Jose touches my ponytail and remarks, "If we ever get married, you should have your hair in a ponytail on our wedding day. Like the day I met you." I raise an eyebrow and make sure he's not drunk. Nope. Sober. "So no up-do? Not worn down or in curls or waves?" I ask with amusement in my eyes. He shakes his head, "Nope. Ponytail or nothing."
* I remark that I've only ever had my own room ONCE in my entire life, when I lived with roommates in an apartment during college. He jokes that when he and I move in together, I'll make him sleep on the couch just so I can have my own room. I kiss him and tell him I'd never kick him out.
Moving in together? Marriage? Kids? Even I was choking on my drink. But only slightly. Any other time, I might be running for the hills or calling this guy a stalker. But where we're at now, it doesn't seem like a pipe dream or some far-off fantasy. It doesn't sound far-fetched. It's the honeymoon phase and everything is just washed in prettiness and rainbows. How serious can you really take it? How much is just head over heels in love talk?
How soon could you really know?
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