He sat quietly.
Staring intently into a deep nothingness.
The smoke from his cigarette whisping back into the car from outside the window, mixing with his cologne forming his irresistible scent.
His mind was one with a hundred thoughts, or perhaps none at all, and he was just this mysterious brooding figure who I liked to assume had so much more to him than just his outer appearance.
My eyes tried to read him, to gather some sort of information so to put his puzzle together. Who was this stranger? He definitely wasn’t the short chubby boy from 13 years ago who ran after the old me telling me he loved me on the soccer field at lunch. A part of me wanted to connect the old him and me together. To remember what good we had in us before we had had to become the people we were sitting in that car. But those kids were long gone, no trace left to be seen. I would be lying if I said I wanted to know everything about him right there and then. These were thoughts that ran through my head the morning after we had been together.
He paused from where he had dove deep into thought and looked at me. He had these beautiful brown innocent child like eyes that made you for a second feel like you could always trust him. “want to go to the backseat?” He asked ever so politely. I couldn’t hold back a chuckle at the irony of the situation. “Yea, lets do it”.
As soon as I had ever so confidently agreed to go to the back seat, and stepped out of the front door, I felt a whirl of panic flood my mind. “What are you doing? Are you actually ready for this? What is going to happen? Can you trust him? Is this going to be worth changing who I have been my entire life thus far?”
I knew he had lied to me before we had met up. I knew we had clearly made an agreement that we wouldn’t even be friends. I knew he had done this countless times before with girls who were both better and worse than me probably. I also knew that I needed to make a few decisions for myself, even if it wasn’t the right one. Who knew when someone was going to fall madly in love with me. I knew it wasn’t going to be anytime soon. It had been two years since I had last been with a guy, and I had almost forgotten entirely what it felt like to have a man touch me. I knew I wanted to do this.
Although I sat in the back knowing all these things, it didn’t stop me from being a simple minded girl and wishing he for some reason that he truly liked me and this is why he wanted to be with me. I wasn’t just any other girl who slept around. I wasn’t a girl who went out with boys, let alone met up with them in a dark alley in the back of a car. Why was I allowing someone who had no feelings for me whatsoever to do something so intimate with me? Why was I allowing myself to be placed in a situation where I would be categorized with other girls who made life choices I otherwise would probably never make? Their family backgrounds, their education, their lifestyles…nothing matched mines. So why was I allowing myself to be just another one of THOSE girls.
He didn’t waste a minute. He placed his hand behind my ear and pulled me closer to him, the silver chain around his neck was the last thing I saw before closing my eyes and allowing myself to fall into his hands. We awkwardly, well, mostly I, awkwardly moved from one side to the other. First him on top then me. He kissed hard, and deeply, his lips soft and warm. He pressed my hips against his, waking up all feelings of intimacy that had fallen asleep for me. In those moments, I truly felt relaxed, comfortable and loved. I forgot all my feelings of anxiety and self consciousness once I felt the pressure of his body against me, and his breath mingling with mine.
He was the quintessential modern day fuck boy.
And yet. I was awed by his ability to not make me feel judged or lacking in experience.
I occasionally dove up from my feeling of ecstasy only submerge myself in my thoughts of unease. “Does he like me? Am I good enough? Has he had better? Is he thinking about someone else? Omg what am I doing? Shit I cant loosen up more”
There was no doubt in my mind that I wasn’t performing my best. A glimpse of the relaxed me grazed my mind, my hand caressing my long dark curly hair flowing just a little over my breasts, gazing at myself in the mirror in my old bedroom while I was riding my ex-husband.
I felt unpolished and rusted. I wanted to be that beautiful dark haired girl in the mirror again, I craved her confidence and her power. This awkward, shy, and stiff girl was not who I wanted to be again.
I can’t blame myself entirely. I knew it had been too long since I had last seen that girl in the mirror. I knew I wouldn’t be able to be her again unless I knew the person I was satisfying was someone who craved me, loved me, and wanted me like they wanted nothing else. I knew that the man. boy. ex-friend. whoever it was who was working so hard to please me, didn’t actually feel anything for me, and perhaps it was that realization that turned me off from myself. It was truly one of those, “it’s not you, its me moments”.
After he finished, he sat across from me, his one hand holding his dick while calming his breathing, his eyes closed, neck tilted back to rest his head on the seat, I was thoroughly enjoying his company. He might not have had any deep attachment to me, but it didn’t stop him from being kind and caring. From wanting to please me. Something I was not used to.