I haven't written in about five months.
And shit.
A lot has happened since then.
Since then, I've endured another semester in college and I'm down to my last two finals this week. Then I'll be home for a few weeks, fly back to work on the Cape this summer, and leave for Spain at the end of August. It sounds exciting, right? Right. It is! Don't get me wrong, it totally is. Chance of a lifetime. So many opportunities. La la la.
Except.
Except.
About a week after my last post, I met a guy. A musician, actually (might as well keep my streak going, yeah?). I went over to his room one night, and we stayed up talking (not touching) for OVER TEN HOURS.
GUYS.
GUYS.
I talked to this kid from 10 pm to noon the next day, and never once got tired of him. We laid next to each other, under the covers, and I was completely comfortable.
And then after 12 hours of talking,
we fucked.
It took a long time for him to get the courage to lean over and kiss me though! I found it very cute.
And let me tell you something else.
For a skinny white boy, his. dick. is. huge.
This is no exaggeration, this is not me trying to flatter him.
It's titanic. It's the kind of penis you see in porn. And sometimes, it's so big that I can't do certain positions because I feel like my bladder's about to be punctured. Jesus, when he gets... in the mood... it's overwhelming. So sex with him is, um, wonderful.
Anyway.
That was the end of January. After that, we had sleepovers and hung out together and introduced our friends to each other and all was nice and grand. Valentine's Day was lovely, and he wrote me a note that made me cry. See, he and his friends are the nice guys. The ones we'll all end up marrying, but right now we don't want. Girls, for some reason, seek out major douchebags in college. So these poor men suffer as they watch dumb women go after the really, really undeserving guys. Thankfully, I was not dumb and went after a kind kid.
Around Valentine's Day, we did have a talk though. About what our title was, if any. Neither he nor I ever asked to be official, it just kinda felt that way. But sometimes, if you don't clearly set down what is and what isn't, people's feelings get hurt or people get confused. I've been through it, it sucks and for some reason I decided I would go through it again. We talked about how I'm going to Spain, so we'd see how the next few months worked out.
February was enjoyable (but sometimes I was mean to him... quite mean, and I feel absolutely horrible about it). March was good, too. We're both sort of passive-aggressive (him more than me), so sometimes there'd be tension, but nothing too bad. Besides, I just love being around him. I don't really get sick of being with him, and he makes me laugh, which is SO important to me. Even the littlest things like getting me coffee or kissing me goodnight mean something.
Then came April. Oy vey. Early April, the week before I was supposed to go home with him for Easter, we had a conversation. I forget how it started, a small fight turned into a heated discussion, and I cried the whole time. It was the talk that when school ends, you know, it's going to be done. I mean, realistically, that's the best thing to do, because even if we see each other this summer, I go off to Spain for a year. But I think having the same conversation I had had with a previous boyfriend really hit me hard. Feelings of pain and nostalgia welled up inside of me and all I could do was sit there and cry. He told me all the things I was doing wrong, how shitty I was treating him, and that even though he liked me, come May we'll finish whatever it is we are.
That's a lot for a little girl. But I'm a big girl, so I took it in, and got fucking drunk afterwards. Then I peed my pants in front of him.
That was a pretty great night for me.
That whole week, he didn't touch me or talk to me. I thought he had made up his mind and decided to end things now, you know, to quit while we're ahead. I think I just frightened him with all the piss and tears in that one evening.
When we went to his house for Easter, things weren't awkward at all. During the car ride, he must have gotten over my behavior from the weekend, because he was so dear and darling to me for the rest of the time. We had wicked, wicked great and intimate sex that I really loved and I met his hometown friends and I absolutely loved it. I was being kind to him, and I felt totally open and honest with him.
Things now are good, but I'm nervous. In the beginning, I told myself I wouldn't miss him or get majorly intense feelings for him, but... fuck. I think it might be easier said than done. I already know that this was one of the most honest and stable relationships I've had with a guy (which might not be saying much, but whatever), and I'm just praying that neither of us leave with bad tastes in our mouths. What I mean is that I don't want this to feel like a bitter break-up, where hurtful things are said and you throw all his sweatshirts in a pile and burn them. No, no. I know I'll probably get upset when I'm home alone and wishing he was there, but as long as I know that we're okay, and that the past semester wasn't a waste, then I'll be just fine.
