Here's your place to come talk about sex and love whenever you feel like it.
I’ve been listening to a lot of embarrassing music lately. Pink. Kelly Clarkson. Beyonce. Trying to stay positive and upbeat. Sad sack music isn’t doing me any favors right now. I’m on a pop diva diet and it feels good. Also, all pop diva songs are great for working out, which is about the only thing keeping me sane right now.
I went out with some co-workers for happy hour earlier this week and it turned into kind of a mess. A bunch of us went back to this guy’s house, Ken, to call for delivery (of drugs). Bobby included.
I had been blowing Bobby off hard after we hooked up and I found out he lived with his girlfriend. I was pretty pissed about the position he’d put me in and I’d been ignoring his increasingly dirty texts. He kind of grossed me out.
When the delivery guy showed up, he didn’t have any coke, but he had special k so a few of us bought some. We were all pretty drunk, and it seemed like a really good idea. Bobby got me a tube and popped it open to snort. This also seemed like a good idea.
I immediately felt the drug hit my system and got dreamy and goofy. Ken had put on some old-school hip-hop and everyone was dancing. Bobby and I were dancing close and I could feel that his cock was hard against my leg. He was whispering jokes in my ear about our friends and suggested we go back to my place. I giggled at him.
I did a little more special k and started to feel really disconnected and less like dancing, so I went down the hall and into Ken’s roommate’s room. Bobby followed me in and we started kissing. I pushed him away.
“What about your girlfriend?”
“What about her? She doesn’t care what I do.”
“I kinda doubt that, Bobby.”
Here’s the thing. I don’t even like Bobby. I mean, I like him just fine. He’s cute and he’s funny. But I don’t like him like him. Before I met ex, I’d hooked up with guys at parties and fooled around, but I usually (always) wanted more and the hook-up was just part of a flirtation and turned into a relationship. Honestly, the last time I was really truly single? I was a teenager.
Bobby is unzipping my jeans.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanna touch your pussy.”
I let him. He pulled my pants down around my hips and started rubbing around underneath my panties. I felt like I was drifting away from my body and I remembered the other reason I didn’t want to hook up with him again. He wasn’t very good at it.
I moved away from him and pulled up my pants. I just wanted to be down. Close to the floor. My center of gravity was off. I sat down on the floor hard and started scooting into a corner.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“I just need to be down here.”
“You wanna fuck on the floor? I want to. I wanna put it in your ass so bad.”
Bobby sat down next to me and started grabbing at my boobs and sharing some of the worst dirty talk I’d ever heard. Don’t tell a girl you want to put it in her ass unless you’re already naked and other sex has happened. I curled up smaller and smaller behind a hamper.
The door opened. Light. Squinting.
“What the hell! You guys can’t hang out in here. My roommate will freak.”
Ken was not happy. I stood up unsteadily and zipped up my jeans. He shot Bobby a dirty look.
“Everyone is heading out. You should get a cab and head home.”
We went back to the living room and everyone was getting going, so I grabbed my bag and started walking out. Bobby was all over me, asking to come over.
The special k was wearing off (thankfully), but I was still kinda dopey. I got into a cab alone and gave him the cross-street to the bar near my apartment. I needed a whiskey and some sanity.
The bar wasn’t too busy, but my friend Lisa was there, scotch in hand. My new bartender friend Jason was pouring drinks. I got a Maker’s on the rocks and started telling Lisa what had happened. She laughed at me and told me she was glad I got the hell out of there.
About an hour later, I decided to walk out with Lisa, and settled up. Jason only charged me for a beer, and when I tried to give him a big tip, he wouldn’t let me. We headed up First Ave.
“He likes you.”
I wasn’t even thinking about it.
She smiled and poked my arm.
“Likes me likes me?”
She laughed. I hadn’t considered someone might like me again. I just hadn’t thought about it.
This was going to be trouble.