People of the world, let it be declared: I have bagged myself a Grade A Sex God.
The result of which, by hook or by crook, is that I am now a GIRLFRIEND.
Confused?
Let me back up.
I worked a VERY long work week, had a 16-hour event day Saturday, then managed to get up, go to church, have a ladies' lunch, work out and go to my ex-boyfriend's brother's graduation party. I had early on said that I would call DD upon departure from the grad party and we would get together but after all of THAT, I was flippin' TIRED. And, as mentioned, DD and I have a terrible track record for JUST SLEEPING.
I call and he says he's been out working in the yard all day and will need to take a shower.
I seize the opportunity to offer a raincheck.
"I don't really want to unless you do," he says, sounding a little pouty about the whole thing.
"Shower away. See you soon," I say.
Damn it all.
I go home, bathe my child and put him to bed before I hear my phone alert me to a text message.
"Hey, got the impression you're not really up for a wild night. I would like to come see you, but if you're not down for it I guess we can reschedule...if you ARE up for a wild night, I would appreciate you dressing up in your sexiest outfit for me."
Well, that sounds promising.
"I will rally," I text back.
DD arrives and has clearly taken a trip to the adult fun store. Bold and awesome. Of the few things he takes out to SHOW me (promising some surprises for later) I am impressed, frightened, and totally excited.
Kids, I like sex. I've never been accused of not liking it, and I've had some pretty fantabulous nights of debauchery in my time.
This one takes the cake.
I'm pretty sure an hour and half in that I almost pass out, and have to tell him to LEAVE ME BE for like 30 seconds or I'm going to die.
And as the blindfold comes off and I see it's 1:00 in the morning, I don't know where the energy came to survive it all, but I'm sure glad that it did, and I find myself uttering the single dumbest phrase that a girl has ever uttered to a man:
"There's literally nothing you could ask of me right now that I wouldn't do for you."
REALLY!? Where did that come from? Somewhere deep in the depths of my sex coma. I got sex stupor-ed or something. I don't know! Damn you, hormones!
He pauses in the dark and then says "I know what I want from you."
I don't get worried until he turns away from me. "I can't look at you to say this."
OH God. Oh God, it's going to be bad. He's been given carte blanche by my dumb ass to ask anything that his little old hormones desire and I'm about to find out he likes midgets or scat or something horrific that I've never even thought of.
With him facing away from me, I sober up from the sex high and fear for the worst, ready myself for that other shoe to drop and to learn that I've been dating some sort of sociopath or sexual deviant.
"I don't know how to say this without sounding like a dick..." he continues.
Oh, it's something that will be degrading and that will make me hate him. What could it be? I think of as many gross terrible things that might come out of his mouth as I can muster in a few seconds, try to prepare myself for the possibilities, but my brain isn't functioning fully yet. It's still offline from the marathon sexcapades. Come back, brain! Damn you, hormones!
"I want you to claim me."
Wait, what?
"Uh...what?" I say out loud, wondering if this is some code I don't understand in some sexual world I'm not a part of...yet.
He rolls back over to look at me, suddenly very serious. I would feel more capable of seriousness if he would undo these damn handcuffs that are starting to hurt as the adrenaline is fading. There's something to be said for the fuzzy handcuffs that I owned with an ex-boyfriend once upon a time that if I pulled hard enoughI could escape from. These suckers are LEGIT.
"I want you to claim me," he repeats emphatically. Finally reading my mind...or realizing this is a conversation to be had with both parties unrestrained, he reaches up to release me and I rub my wrists while he continues. "I want you to take down your match profile and to put on facebook that I'm yours. That you want to be with me."
Oh. OH! Oh, oh, oh!
I try to recover quickly - something I'm not fully capable of yet. "You want to be my boyfriend" I sing-song playfully.
He doesn't even crack a smile. Just looks at me seriously. I swallow hard.
"Ok....ok," I say softly.
"Ok?" he repeats as if he expected me to say "HELL TO THE NO"
"Ok," I affirm, crawling under the covers and wondering if there is nerve damage in my hand because I can't feel part of it.
"I was thinking about what you keep saying about non-labels, and taking it slow...but, I was getting aggravated working on the lawn today thinking about it. I mean, we've met eachother's kids, and friends, and everything's going great...and I mean, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck...it's a fuckin' duck, right? And it doesn't mean you can't change your mind tomorrow. If we're going to do this, then let's DO this. I just...I mean, I've been in relationships where one person has liked the other more...I'm usually the one that likes the other less but I think this may be the opposite."
"I LIKE YOU," I say for the thousandth time. Is he listening to me!?
"But..."
"Oh listen," I say, suddenly realizing the root of his worry, "I like you a lot. And here's what you should think about...I get freaked out when I like someone a lot. I start thinking about the future and the implications of it all and my sense of self gets weirdly threatened...so, just remember, the cagier I get the more it means I like you. Everytime I'm weird, just sit back and say "oh, she's REALLY liking me." Does that help?"
He looks at me a little bit like I've sprouted a third eye but nods.
"You've got to remember these are uncharted waters for me. I haven't been married, I haven't even lived with a man, I've never dated someone with kids and I've only dated one other person since I had a kid. I'm going to be cagier about some of this stuff than you are in your Yoda-like dating experience," I explain.
He smiles at that.
"So you're my girl?" He puts his arm around my shoulders.
"I'm your girl."
After round i've-lost-count of sexual deviance when we wake up in the morning, I have a thought that he knows me well enough to know that I am atypical in the girl sense. Women are accused of using sex as a tool to get what the want, but I am 99.9% sure that my now-boyfriend sexed me into a coma in order to have my defenses down. Granted, I knew I was on borrowed time with my lame "slow and steady wins the race" business, and I'm OKAY being a girlfriend.
I realized today that it's not being HIS girlfriend that bothers me. I was a girlfriend once. A devoted, ridiculous girlfriend. I lost myself in that relationship, in that boy. After him, something in me decided that had SUCKED and worked hard to find a sense of self and independance. Falling for someone, letting them in, feels like someone chipping at this giant wall of SELF. From that damn toothbrush to this declaration of official relationship-dom, my warning bells have nothing to do with the so far nothing-but-fabulous DD, but with my own lack of confidence in my ability to maintain my SELF and also be GOOD GIRLFRIEND. I didn't know how to be both with the last person I fell in love with. I chose what I thought GOOD GIRLFRIEND meant.
But DD made it feel different.
"I know there's something real here. You...you're what I'm looking for," he said.
"Oh, you...just wait," I say like a broken record waiting for him to find something he hates about me.
"I don't expect you to be perfect. I don't think you're perfect, I like you for being exactly who you are. So long as you're not pretending to be someone you're not..."
"I'm NOT," I interject defensively.
"Then just be you. I like YOU. I like all the things that make you YOU."
Oh, lord Jesus, I am in trouble.
And so, Monday morning after DD leaves for work, I sit down at the computer and cancel my match.com membership. "I've met someone" I mark on the "why are you leaving?" survey options. I forward him the cancellation.
Then, perhaps with even more trepidation, I get on facebook and change my status to "in a relationship" with him.
There, done. That wasn't so hard. I get up from the computer, grab the icepack I was sitting on to heal my sexcapade battle wounds (holy crap!), glance at my bruised wrists and bounce off to work with a smirk on my face and a new relationship in my pocket.
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