WARNING: This blog is a little...PG-13 to possibly R-Rated. If you have any trouble at all acknowledging me as a sexual being, PLEASE do not read any farther. You have been warned and I cannot be held responsible for the outcome if you continue after this warning.
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This morning while I was getting ready for work, I was listening to the Kidd Kraddick in the Morning radio show (as I do almost every morning), and they were talking about saying hurtful things to your partner and the motivation behind it, whether you really mean it or not when you say something in the heat of the moment, that sort of thing. As it usually does during a topic of this nature, someone pulled out the "I was drunk" excuse but not to use it or defend it--to call it out as false. One show member stated that he doesn't believe this is a valid excuse--that you wouldn't do or say anything drunk that you wouldn't do or say sober. I think this is patently untrue. While I don't necessarily think that you can say whatever you want to someone and then turn around after you sober up and blame it on the booze and try to say you didn't mean it, I don't think it's always one thing or the other--some statements or actions may have a kernel of truth in them, others may really just be the inhibitions flying away and allowing something to sound like a good idea at the time.
So this morning their discussion and that phrase, "I was drunk," brought up some old shit from the past. A boy, to be specific. A boy I've never disclosed my intimate involvement with, to this day. There's really not a good reason now to maintain this secret, as I'm not really in the same circle of friends & acquaintances as I was when this happened...Except that I'm still, well, abashed by it? I don't know. I don't want to say ashamed, but I'm certainly not proud. I am quite sure he feels the same way. I wouldn't know, because not long after we happened, he left town & I haven't seen or spoken to or even heard anything about him since. I'm not going to name names, and I'm going to keep the hints at a minimum, even though I sincerely doubt that anyone who is reading this would know him.
This old shit? I don't know why, but it all stays with me. The one-night-stands, the almost-boyfriends, the stupid mistakes and the really fabulous times--they all stay with me. And I dredge it up and share it with you all. So this morning...this boy from my past...
He was brown-eyed and pretty with dark hair and long eyelashes. He had a shy, quiet way about him which I found endearing. Not like I normally do, in that I want to corrupt it, but in the way that I found it precious. We met through the theatre. He actually dated someone I knew...I guess it was a pretty serious young relationship but I wasn't involved in it in any way. We had spoken when they were together, but I don't think we spent any more time than that with each other, and we were certainly never alone.
The way it happened, the way he & I ended up sleeping together, it seemed fated just because it felt so strange at the time--I mean, I would NEVER have predicted it, almost not up until...well, we'll get there together, darlings. I had that feeling I get sometimes when I'm not really in control of my own body--I feel almost like a puppet being tugged along by the strings of the fates, powerless to stop where I'm going even if certain disaster is looming. On this particular night, I went to see a play he was performing in. Ironically enough, my most recent ex-boyfriend was also in this play, along with The Boy and several other people I knew. I had actually already seen the play once before but came back, I'm not sure why, but I was probably volunteering at the theater as an usher or something that night. Here's where it gets interesting: I swear I could feel him watching me throughout the play...the whole time he was on stage. It was sort of bizarre, but I understood it because I've done the same thing; he never dropped character, never looked distracted, never lost his place in the scene...But I could feel his gaze on me. It was a bit...unsettling because I had honestly never regarded him that way before. Not that I didn't find him attractive, but he wasn't for me. I mean, he and I...I knew that was just not going to happen in any way, shape, or form. I never got that vibe of attraction from him...until that night.
So already, my senses are sort of humming and I'm on a sort of sexy high-alert. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't expecting anything to happen, but the flirting seemed fun and harmless enough and this would just give it an extra sort of boost. After the show was over, I had to hang around to help clean things up, which meant I would be leaving at roughly the same time as most of the cast. I walked outside and there he was. We caught each others' eye. He came over to talk to me by my truck. I could feel him looking at me, and it was intense. I remember standing there, being completely unsure of myself--I had NO IDEA how to handle this! (I know this is hard to imagine for any of you who have spent time in my presence, particularly if you are male, but I promise, it happened just this way.) We talked, about what I have no idea, but we talked and flirted and stood there in awkward silence and neither of us could tear ourselves away from the other. He invited me to the cast party. I readily accepted. So we met up at the house where the party was already in full swing. We staked out a spot in the backyard that was far enough away from everyone else that we could have some privacy to talk and flirt and be awkward some more. The sexual tension built. My ex and his new girlfriend came over to us to say hello, and the vibe between The Boy and I was so intense, the ex and his new girl couldn't even stand to be near us. (Funny side note: The ex and his new girl actually wanted to hook up with me around that same time...Yes, the three of us. I didn't find her attractive and frankly thought the whole thing would be just too weird, even for me. But we had some fun talking about it.) Then along came a steady stream of other random theatre folks, guys in the play, etc., and NONE of them stayed near us for long. They would greet us, get the feeling they'd interrupted something, give us each a side-glance and then bolt for the hills. Subtlety has never been my strong suit and even with The Boy's natural shyness, we were just thrumming with...well, I think you get it.
As I'm sure many of you will understand, in my confused and heightened state, it sounded like a great idea to have a drink to calm myself down a bit. One drink led to a couple more and before long, I was nice and warmly drunk. Not falling down sloppy or obnoxious, but that perfect happy drunken medium we all try to maintain while drinking and either fall asleep or end up vomiting in a yard somewhere. It was early summertime and the night was mild. However, it was getting late and the party was starting to wind down some. Not that it mattered--we weren't engaged with anyone but each other. I kept saying that I needed to go home, to pry myself away from The Boy. I kept saying it but I didn't really act on it. Of course, then I got drunk and there was no way I was getting behind the wheel and driving myself home all the way across town. He offered to take me back to his place so we could watch a movie and I could sober up, then he would bring me back to my truck. This somehow managed to NOT sound like a pick-up line at all coming from his sweet, innocent mouth. I knew The Boy was not a player and if one of us should be afraid of the other, well, we all know I had the advantage of age and experience in this situation. So in my inebriated state and for want of any better options, I took him up on his offer.
Upstairs in his apartment, we laughed about our nearly identical movie collections. Needless to say, we did not end up watching a movie. We sat on his couch and talked, but it wasn't comfortable. I don't want to say it was uncomfortable, it was just...tense, but in a delicious way. There was some gazing into each others' eyes and some giggling and some looking away from one another. We settled in with me leaning against him, sort of under his arm, so we wouldn't have to look at each other at all, and we talked some more. When I finally did look up at him, he kissed me. I knew, and I think he knew, too, that it was the point of no return. I told him I didn't understand why he was interested in me. He said I was crazy if I didn't know how attractive I was. I retorted that I just never got that vibe from him. I asked him if he was playing me, or if he was using me to get back at his ex. He said he wasn't using me for that, and I don't think he was lying--but I do think he was using me as sort of a reasonable facsimile for her--our personalities were somewhat similar, at least to those who didn't know us well. I've found myself in that position before and I guess it should have bothered me but I got a strange sort of power charge from it--like, ok, you think I'm like her but I'm going to prove to you that I'm better and you'll never think of her again. That sort of thing. He asked me if I thought he was some sort of player. I told him he certainly seemed to have all the right moves and the right words, which usually indicates a boy is a player. He insisted that he was not like that at all. I believed him. He offered to take me back to my truck and I turned him down. I didn't want to tear myself away from the anticipation...the tension...the awareness. I still felt powerless to resist...I felt the inevitability of he and I together, just for this one night. It sounds sexy and romantic and in some ways it was, but in others it was just stupid and reckless.
Needless to say, after another hour or so of making out on the couch, we were both just...well, we needed to get it over with. So we went into his bedroom. There were no sheets on the bed. Hell, there was no bed on the bed...Just a mattress & box springs on the floor, with an egg crate on top. He apologized but by that point, I didn't care. We just laid down on the mattress and went for it. Unfortunately, it all ended up being rather...anti-climactic, I'm sorry to say. When it was over, I was sober and feeling numb but also empty...disappointed...angry...Though there was a strange satisfaction I still can't explain...I guess just because I got what I thought I wanted. But these feelings all were sort of muted and far-away (it's hard to explain--like an out-of-body experience but not). I got dressed while he waited in the living room. We both knew it was time for me to leave, so we went downstairs and got in his SUV so he could take me back to my truck. Even more unfortunately, it got worse. I made a stupid mistake and didn't make him use anything. I've been on the pill since I was 15 but yeah, it was dumb. So as we're on the way back to my truck, he looks over at me in a truly awful attempt to be funny and says, "By the way, I have an STD." I wish he had just punched me in the gut, because that's exactly what it felt like. My skin felt numb and on fire at the same time...I completely froze...He said, "I'm kidding! I swear!" I knew he was (yes, I knew his sexual history and there was just the 1 other girl), and I got the motivation behind what he was doing--trying to release some of the tension in a different way that had built up since we...well, you know. But it still blind-sided me. I mean, it could have just as easily turned out that way. We rode in silence until we got to my truck. I don't remember if we even bothered to kiss one another good-night. I got in my truck and drove home and fell asleep. I only saw him one other time after that and he wouldn't meet my eye. Not long after that, he was gone.
I said before that I don't regret it. I don't regret any of my choices, good or bad, "right" or "wrong." I learned something from this and had a new experience and made a (however unstable and brief) connection with another human being. Yes, I was drunk, but I wanted what I wanted--my body wanted what it wanted and I could not deny it. The alcohol just left me less able to fight...though I doubt the outcome would have been different if I'd been sober.
So this morning on the radio, I heard "I was drunk." And those sweet brown eyes and dark thick lashes peered back at me from my past. In spite of it all, I couldn't help it--I smiled.
Love,
Lola
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