Tags
booty call, booty calls, dating, love, men, relationships, romance, sex, single, singledom, women
The end of my summer came to close with my being whisked away to bars and pop-up parties in warehouses that were only advertised through the lips of the cool kids. I was a corporate grinder during the week and a carefree bohemian princess on the weekends.
I was happy. I was living a magical life. I loved every aspect of it. Then I saw him.
But he had seen me lifetimes ago and I was finally in his sights, ripe for the taking. He didn’t need to say a word. I gravitated towards him effortlessly.
He was standing with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in another.
I rolled up to him just as he was putting his cigarette out and looked like he was going back inside the bar to rejoin his friends, and coolly asked, “Do you have another cigarette?”
He grinned from ear to ear as he pulled out his pack of smokes from his front pocket and handed me a cigarette.
We talked for a bit about what we each did for a living, where we lived and other details of our lives that wouldn’t matter in the long run. We were both set in each others’ paths for one reason. That reason wouldn’t reveal itself to me until the bitter end. I took down his number and retreated inside and met up with my friends.
I found them on the dance floor swaying and swinging and I drunkenly joined their circle. I hadn’t a care in the world at that moment. I was free and happy and nothing could touch me. Except for him. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pushed his hips against mine. I was surprised, but found myself savoring his touch. Our bodies were grinding and his face was pressed against my neck as he pulled me closer. Everything in my mind rejected this but my body kept swaying along with his. When he leaned in for a kiss, I pulled back and gave him a coy smile.
I finally texted him a week later.
“I was wondering when you’d text me.” He replied.
What followed was 3 months of earth shattering, mind blowing sex. But I was left mostly waiting in anxiety and stress in between each romp. I was tortured by the silence and the uncertainty that Monday through Thursday brought. I was over thinking and over analyzing each text. I forgot all about the anxiety I endured all week when he finally showed up at my door. I’d swiftly throw myself into his arms and let myself fall all over again.
I was caught up in the euphoria of our passion that I had never experienced before and tried to turn it into a full blown relationship instead of appreciating him for what he really was: damned good sex.
I threw everything I had into creating a meaningful relationship with him. And all he did was resist. Of course, he would. He could smell the desperation on me a mile away.
In the end, it came down to a show down. I told him what I wanted and that I wanted us to be exclusive. He nodded and agreed half-heartedly. I was a fool to think I had him. It was a hollow victory because I wouldn’t hear from him for another week after that. I broke down and texted him that this was not working for me and we should “just be friends”.
He agreed.
It’s been 2 months since I last heard from him and I had to dig deep to find some sanity and ground myself after living in Never Never Land with Peter Pan.
I was destroyed. I thought I was on top of the world. I thought I could do and have anything I wanted. Just not him. He was elusive and slipped through my fingers every time I thought I had a grip on him. Maybe I was obsessed with the idea of him. He seemed to have everything I wanted. But upon closer review, he didn’t. He didn’t even come close!
That’s the problem with these whirlwind romances. You get caught up in the sex and forget to examine the person. You start to overlook key red flags that pop up throughout the relationship because you’re so blinded by the mind-blowing sex. You don’t see that he’s broke all the time. You ignore the fact that instead of repairing his car that just broke down, he goes and puts a down payment on a motorcycle. You don’t put much emphasis on the fact that he’s never met your friends, nor cares to. He never makes plans ahead of time. He texts you only on the days he plans to see you (the fuck is that?) You completely overlook the fact that you are nothing more than a booty call to this boy. He played you. He played with your heart and your mind and now you don’t know what’s up or down anymore. He just flipped your world upside down.
He’s on to the next victim and you’re left to pick up the pieces of this shit storm he left behind.
I kept beating myself up about it because I literally invited this asshole into my life. I am the one who walked right up to him and opened myself up to him. He didn’t weasel his way in, he was only following my lead.
I should have just enjoyed the sex and accept the fact that he was not relationship material. He was never going to be, no matter how hard I tried.
Damn, the sex was good. These damned feelings had to go and ruin everything.
