I will admit that as I write this, I am drunk and still under the influence of various chemicals, but I still feel like that does not invalidate how I feel at the moment.
Since this whole break up deal I have been trying to find myself and who I am. The craziest thing that I have figured out during this whole excursion is that there was is not much wrong with me to start with.
Now, I could be completely wrong here. This is just me and how I feel my experiences relate to me as a whole. There is just something about tonight that makes me feel so different from before.
In the last month, I have been going out for "fun". At first, I was just forcing myself to get out of the apartment. It has kind of grown and evolved into a sort of scorched-earth policy of "dates" and hook ups... Hey, Momma's gotta get hers too, right? The way I see it, the last thing I would want from any of these guys is a relationship, so I am just going to do like they do. It has been working out pretty decent for me as well.
That was until I met Him.
I came home Friday night(or Saturday morning... depends on how you look at those things), sat down in front of my computer and wrote that. Now that I am sober and have had the chance to dissect every moment from that night, I will regale you with my tale of "Friday Night With Nerdy Floyd".
(Floyd is not his real name, just one I came up with based on a few things about him that you shall soon find out.)
I found Floyd on one of those random apps they have these days for meeting people. I joined out of boredom and the desperate urge to just talk to another human being. It was one of "those days". If you are familiar with the apps I speak of, I am sure you are also familiar with the dredges of society that like to creep about and inundate your phone with messages that are usually sexually explicit. It isn't like it is that far off from the internet or the appalling way some "men" attempt to hit on women in public.
I forget how it started, but Floyd and I began talking. He seemed interesting as well as genuine. Far from what I had grown accustomed to coming across in the few days that I had been putzing around with the app. It definitely didn't hurt that he claimed to be a musician and his pictures portrayed him to be a damn good looking guy. After a few days of talking, I decided 'What the hell? Let's get a beer together.'
I had never done anything like this before, but "nervous" or "scared" were not on the list of feelings I had about it. To be honest, at one point I was worried about the fact that I was not worried. The way I saw it, I was either going to have a decent time, maybe get laid and never talk to this guy again or I was going to have an awful time, laugh about it, never talk to him again and give you guys something to laugh about as well. In my mind those were the only two possible scenarios for how the evening could play out.
I stood in the parking lot waiting for him while it drizzled from the overcast night sky. Entertained by my curious thoughts of how the evening would go as well as the cars passing by. A huge, loud truck barreled its way through the lot.
"Well, aren't you fucking cool in that ridiculously overcompensating truck?" I scoffed. They are a dime a dozen around here. The douchebags who usually drive them even less.
Seven seconds later, I ate my words.
"Thank you, Universe!" I cheered on the inside as Floyd got out of his "overcompensating truck", I managed to escape a Catfish situation.
After exchanging pleasantries, we noticed that the venue we chose changed owners and themes. It was now a country and blues bar. They still had pool, so we decided to stay and go with the flow.
With beers in hand, we found a spot near a pool table and started chit chatting. Favorite music, movies, hobbies. Normal stuff. What was not normal was how his character disarmed the fuck out of me. I have this shit down to a science. I know who I need to be and what I need to say to charm the pants off of anyone. Even in a literal sense.
After a couple of beers, we started talking about pets and dogs. It was around this time that the combination of his personality and the beer made me realize that I was losing it. I was mid rant about canine evolution, starting to shift my diatribe to Richard Dawkins and The Selfish Gene when he interjected.
"I fucking hated reading that book. Not because it was bad, I just had to write this ridiculous thesis on it."
I was in a haze as he went on to explain the details of it and how he goes to a local prestigious and very old College studying Biology and Biochemistry. I became conscious of three very real and equally scary things.
1. I unconsciously became so comfortable around him that I was being my silly, nerdy, boisterous self. Not the person I intended on being.
2. For probably the second time in my life(outside of educational settings), he got everything I was saying in my crazy, random intellectual rants. Not only that, but he was enjoying them and JOINING them.
3. I was enjoying it just as much, if not more, than he was.
Upon those realizations, I snapped into defense mode.
First try, deflection. When he is done entrancing me with more stories about his band, his love of music and his Pink Floyd themed half-sleeve; I suggest we play pool.
Now in high school, my best friend had a pool table and we played all the time. I am not saying I am fabulous, but I am nowhere near as bad as I was Friday night. I am a competitive person. I LOVE WINNING. I lost in the most embarrassing of fashions. TWICE. I HATE LOSING.
That being said, I almost didn't care. I had the most fun losing that I ever have. I caught him trying to let me catch up and win. The independent bitch in me laughed and warned that I hate winning on false terms more than losing. I probably shouldn't have. It was a sweet gesture, but fuck him for knocking me off my game.
We went back to our chairs and continued on with random conversation. Our waitress came by to let us know that the bar closed in fifteen minutes. Our drinks finished and the craving for a cigarette strong, Floyd paid our tab and we left.
It was during our cancer rituals, we looked down and saw another bar that was open and decided to continue the adventure there.
Upon entering, we were greeted by a fog of smoke, loud rap music and a girl twerking her way around a pole.
You read that right, we stumbled our way into a STRIP CLUB! There was an exchange of glances that ended in synchronized shrugging and laughter. I wandered through the fog and found a table close to the bar as he ordered our drinks. The whole time amazed at how this is all actually happening.
I know I cannot speak for Floyd, but as for myself, we could have been in a war zone, field of daisies, strip club or an empty room and I would not have been able to tell you the difference. I was aware of nothing more than our conversation, his sharp blue eyes cutting through the fog as well as my bullshit and the palpable electricity surrounding us.
My weakest and strongest suits are my assertiveness and bluntness. After a discussion about nature versus nurture, I caught that look of longing in his eyes. I had noticed it before, but this was was longer and a bit different.
"You cannot look at me like that and then not kiss me." I take a bold step forward, being the first to cross into personal space. "So, here I am."
I know, I know. I am awful and great at ruining things. One thing I am not good at is being patient. I felt like I HAD to steal the ball and put it in my court.
Honestly, I am going to fast forward from there. Of course he kissed me, was it amazing, yes. But I just don't want to go down that cheesy ass gushy road. The night carried on a bit longer and I ended up home around 3:30. Almost 8 hours later.
My brain was in overdrive. What just happened? How did I let this happen? Oh God, what did I get myself into?
I sat down and took a deep breath to calm myself. I become instantly overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne on my leather jacket. Intoxicated by that first inhale, I take another. This time I hold it. When I finally exhale, I run to my computer and let my fingers glide across the keys. No thoughts, no editing, just drunken honesty.
I guess that was my theme for the night.
And that is the story of how the player got played in a whole new way.
