Strictly Physical
“I don’t think I slept at all that first night we were together.”
“Wait, you mean the very first night? When I was totally passed out in your bed?”
“Yeah. Cause I was just so excited that I was actually sleeping next to you.”
Now I’m the first one to admit that I’m a whore. I like that guys are attracted to me because I wear short skirts and have a great ass. When I’m out I like all attention to be on me and I ooze sexuality. It’s fun. Cause when I actually bag these guys, it’s like I just conquered them. And I win. I can deal with creepy, one dimensional characters. Because I know that I’m smarter than they are and I hold all the ‘cards’ as you will, in the end. However, I am not prepared for statements like the one above. Especially since nothing even happened that first night.
He made me dinner last night. During the course of some conversation, I mentioned that I L-O-V-E Mexican food. The next night he invited me over for dinner. Sure, I freaked out a little. The only other man who has cooked for me was Old Man. And that’s just because….well, let’s just say it was because we both gave a little to get a little. Baloo said we were having tacos. I expected we’d order in, sit on the couch, and watch Comedy Central while eating yummy, delicious tacos. Nope. Not happening. Instead, I made the long journey to his house to smell spices coming from the kitchen. And on the dining room table? Actual plates and silverware and folded napkins. Well, they were actually paper towels, but they were folded very nicely. Here began panic attack number 2. Wow. We were really having dinner. Where we sit across from each other and hold a conversation. Booty calls aren’t supposed to have conversations. Hell, we really weren’t supposed to see each other in full, natural light. Now you want to sit down and have a meal….with silverware?! I had to busy myself with cutting limes so as to not run out of the house erratically waving my arms over my head and screaming. I could do this.
After dinner we retired to his room where we watched The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. My mind was racing. I couldn’t get into anything we were doing. What does this all mean? This is a booty call, right? Well if that’s the case, why was I fed homemade food? Maybe because he’s a grad student he’s too poor to afford to take me out to dinner so we stayed in. So maybe he’s still just in it for the sex. Then his roommate came home. That made me even more uncomfortable. I’ve been living alone for so long that I feel it inappropriate to be naughty when other people are around. I kept telling Baloo that I had to go home. He told me that just because I got fed didn’t mean I was obligated to sleep with him. Oh honey, that’s built into my genes. The more expensive the meal, the more willing I am to put out.
So, we went next door to The Dungeon. I know that I happen to be a pretty loud person (chalk it up to my Napoleon complex) and the last thing I wanted to do was be reprimanded my Baloo’s roommate. Especially since the roommate is the one who’s paying the mortgage.
And it was great. He voluntarily told me that he went to OLIN to get tested earlier in the day. Well, I know why he really told me that, but it was so responsible. I hadn’t even given him the speech yet about responsibility and the spread of diseases (I’m kinda OCD about STDs. It has a lot to do with the fact that I volunteer at the AIDS center here in town) and he had taken it upon himself to get tested. How could I resist after that?
For a person who was elated just to have the opportunity to sleep next to me, he was quite pleased to get the total package. But in a gentlemanly way. He told me that he’s secretly freaking out about our proximity to each other and about how convenient it is for us to see each other. I’m glad I wasn’t the only one freaking.
We spent the entire night talking. I mentioned that it was goofy. The only reason we were doing it was because everything was new and fun and shiny and you want to know everything about the other person because it’s scary to think that you’ll eventually have to get out of bed and resume your normal lives. It was goofy. And I called him on it. Hey, someone’s got to be able to keep a level head.
I was late for work again this morning. Second time this week. We’ve got to come up with some sort of schedule.
“Wait, you mean the very first night? When I was totally passed out in your bed?”
“Yeah. Cause I was just so excited that I was actually sleeping next to you.”
Now I’m the first one to admit that I’m a whore. I like that guys are attracted to me because I wear short skirts and have a great ass. When I’m out I like all attention to be on me and I ooze sexuality. It’s fun. Cause when I actually bag these guys, it’s like I just conquered them. And I win. I can deal with creepy, one dimensional characters. Because I know that I’m smarter than they are and I hold all the ‘cards’ as you will, in the end. However, I am not prepared for statements like the one above. Especially since nothing even happened that first night.
He made me dinner last night. During the course of some conversation, I mentioned that I L-O-V-E Mexican food. The next night he invited me over for dinner. Sure, I freaked out a little. The only other man who has cooked for me was Old Man. And that’s just because….well, let’s just say it was because we both gave a little to get a little. Baloo said we were having tacos. I expected we’d order in, sit on the couch, and watch Comedy Central while eating yummy, delicious tacos. Nope. Not happening. Instead, I made the long journey to his house to smell spices coming from the kitchen. And on the dining room table? Actual plates and silverware and folded napkins. Well, they were actually paper towels, but they were folded very nicely. Here began panic attack number 2. Wow. We were really having dinner. Where we sit across from each other and hold a conversation. Booty calls aren’t supposed to have conversations. Hell, we really weren’t supposed to see each other in full, natural light. Now you want to sit down and have a meal….with silverware?! I had to busy myself with cutting limes so as to not run out of the house erratically waving my arms over my head and screaming. I could do this.
After dinner we retired to his room where we watched The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. My mind was racing. I couldn’t get into anything we were doing. What does this all mean? This is a booty call, right? Well if that’s the case, why was I fed homemade food? Maybe because he’s a grad student he’s too poor to afford to take me out to dinner so we stayed in. So maybe he’s still just in it for the sex. Then his roommate came home. That made me even more uncomfortable. I’ve been living alone for so long that I feel it inappropriate to be naughty when other people are around. I kept telling Baloo that I had to go home. He told me that just because I got fed didn’t mean I was obligated to sleep with him. Oh honey, that’s built into my genes. The more expensive the meal, the more willing I am to put out.
So, we went next door to The Dungeon. I know that I happen to be a pretty loud person (chalk it up to my Napoleon complex) and the last thing I wanted to do was be reprimanded my Baloo’s roommate. Especially since the roommate is the one who’s paying the mortgage.
And it was great. He voluntarily told me that he went to OLIN to get tested earlier in the day. Well, I know why he really told me that, but it was so responsible. I hadn’t even given him the speech yet about responsibility and the spread of diseases (I’m kinda OCD about STDs. It has a lot to do with the fact that I volunteer at the AIDS center here in town) and he had taken it upon himself to get tested. How could I resist after that?
For a person who was elated just to have the opportunity to sleep next to me, he was quite pleased to get the total package. But in a gentlemanly way. He told me that he’s secretly freaking out about our proximity to each other and about how convenient it is for us to see each other. I’m glad I wasn’t the only one freaking.
We spent the entire night talking. I mentioned that it was goofy. The only reason we were doing it was because everything was new and fun and shiny and you want to know everything about the other person because it’s scary to think that you’ll eventually have to get out of bed and resume your normal lives. It was goofy. And I called him on it. Hey, someone’s got to be able to keep a level head.
I was late for work again this morning. Second time this week. We’ve got to come up with some sort of schedule.
the worst is when you show up to work with a raw face from making out with a guy who needs to shave and his scruff irritated your face.
or am i the only one who has that problem with booty calls?
kiki likes a boy!!
kiki likes a boy!!
Posted by
Pocket Kip |
Thu Oct 12, 07:38:00 PM EDT
Yeah, I hate when that happens.
Geez, leave it to a man to put out great sex, make dinner and be all sweet and nice AFTER you decided to take yourself "off the market"!
Btw, have fun ;-)
~ Roomie
Posted by
Anonymous |
Thu Oct 12, 10:36:00 PM EDT
Um, are you falling 'in like' with someone? Should people be worried?
I, for one, would not be worried. I would like to see you in a relationship. Even if it's only for a little while. Be wild, try it out!
Posted by
Summer |
Fri Oct 13, 04:38:00 AM EDT
He sounds like a nice guy. I know nice isn't always what you're looking for, but still...
Posted by
Anonymous |
Fri Oct 13, 08:13:00 AM EDT