Here's your place to come talk about sex and love whenever you feel like it.
Almost 15 years ago, I was in love with a boy named ____ _____. That's two blanks, because he was one of those people you have to refer to by both names at all times -- it just sounded right. He was clever, charming and funny, and he'd do this thing where he'd casually wink at me and my vagina would almost explode. It was one of those crushes you can really only get as an adolescent, where you can spend whole nights just yearning for the person.
I'm embarassed but willing to tell you that I once was so in love with Jonathan Taylor Thomas that I would listen to him singing on "The Lion King" soundtrack and like, swoon. I lusted after a cartoon lion! A baby cartoon lion!
But ___ ____ was different. He was a real person, a friend of friends I interacted with at my local poetry reading, whom I liked, and who seemed to like me back. The only problem was that I was 14, and ____ _____ was a grown-ass man. Actually, in retrospect, he was like 20, but he might as well have been 42 for my purposes, because he was also all decent and not interested in breaking state laws just to feel up my teenage chest-fat. BOO, but also YAY. Boundaries! You resent them like hell at the time, but you're grateful for them later.
Anyway, I just spent a few years basically simmering in romantic obsession over ____ _____, where every time I looked at him it was like that scene in a romantic comedy when one character gazes longingly at another so cheesily that my boyfriend quietly whispers "I LOVE YOU SO MUCH" and makes me laugh.
Once, when I was 16, we went out somewhere with friends and I accidentally (I swear) locked my keys in my car outside the local Waffle Hop, and we ended up staying up all night at somebody's house singing along to the RENT soundtrack. And because there's nothing to put you in the mood like a musical about AIDS, I thought that something might finally happen between us. The mood was set! The supervision was absent! The opportunity was nigh! But, alas, ____ ______ seemed to be really holding out for that whole "legal" thing, in marked contrast to every other man I met during this time period.
So although I was enjoying my adolescence by handjobbing acoustic guitar players and drinking vodka out of some guy's dorm room closet, _____ _____ was always the one who got away.
I went away to New York for college, and we kept in a touch a bit through Livejournal and the occasional phone call. He moved to another big city located not in Oklahoma. One Christmas, he sent me something from my Amazon wish list, and I saved the typed gift tag for a decade, because it was from ____ _____ to me, OH MY GOD!
Years passed. I became capable of legally consenting to sex. One day, he IMed me and told me that he was coming to New York for something, I don't remember what. I offered to let him sleep on the floor of my dorm room, like a total lovesick idiot. He was like, "Uh, no thanks, I'll be getting a hotel room like an adult." So cringe-y!
But when he came, we made plans to spend the day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, an appropriately romantic adventure for what was possibly to be the consummation of my years of maybe-a-little-requited lust. It should be noted that while I at this point weighed at least 80 pounds more than I had as a teenage poetess, ____ _____ did not bat an eye when he met me on the museum steps and embraced me in a meaningful hug.
While we were hanging out, flirting and exchanging meaningful glances, inside I was basically David at the Dentist, all "IS THIS REAL LIFE?" and the feeling was only compounded when we made out later in his hotel room.
Dudes, if you have had a crush on somebody basically since the dawn of your nascent sexuality, and you get the chance to have sex with them, DO IT. It's every bit as good as you imagined it would be. Presuming you're not looking for more than the other person has to offer, or something boner-killing like that. I wasn't expecting ____ ____ to be my boyfriend, to move to New York, or even ever kiss me again, but at that moment I was literally participating in a long-held fantasy and it was HOT, like jumping into a porn video I MADE UP MYSELF. It's probably the same reason people become groupies.
Take it away, journal from 2001: "It wouldn't have been so lovely if I'd had it when I wanted it. All those years of idolizing -- of thinking all my life needed was him. We were tickling and fighting -- all those things you do when you're too afraid to kiss. Finally, he slipped an arm around me. I laid there in the dark on his shoulder and quietly knew what was coming. He told me to pretend the dripping faucet was rain, and asked me, "Is this okay?"... A perfectly lovely day, removed from context."
Lest you think it's all sweetness and pining and fake rain, it gets really dirty after that. Just reading the entry made me blush so hard, ya'll! Let's just say we had a really nice time, hi-fived at the end, and never did it again.
And I highly, highly recommend it.