A bit of background: I’ve always been very pretty, but have not had much luck in the romance department. The guy I’m hot for is never hot for me back. I didn’t have a real boyfriend until I was 27, and my two serious relationships have both been with guys that I was friends with more than anything. I was with my recent ex, Mark, for 5.5 years, living together for 5 of that. He was my best friend and the most decent person I’ve ever known, but the passion had been gone for a long, long time. I basically asked him to marry me about a year ago. He turned me down, and finally admitted that there were some things he felt were missing in me: I was not adventurous, spontaneous, “crazy” enough for him to make a lifetime commitment. I of course was hurt and furious, but it took me until this summer to finally make the break.
Mark left town about 3 weeks ago. He cried when he hugged me for the last time. I didn’t. I was just so ready for it to be over and done with. Since then I’ve been having a fine ol’ time! Well, really it started before he left. So here’s the deal: when I came by to look at what would end up being my new apartment for the first time in late July, there was a gorgeous man working on his truck (already, how hot is that?!) right in front of the place. I mean gorgeous – he turned around and smiled at me and I swear my heart stopped. We chatted for a few minutes and then I went to work and told my girlfriends all about it. I couldn’t get him off my mind for the rest of the day. It took two more visits to finally see the inside of the place and decide I wanted it. I didn’t see Mr. Hottie either time, so I figured he had just been using a friend’s parking space to work on the truck.
After I got fully moved in around the middle of August, I came home one night to find him hanging out with some of the other neighbors (everybody here hangs out and parties together). Turns out he is my neighbor Brandon’s brother, his name is John, and he used to live in this complex. About a week later, I was trying to do laundry at the complex, and realized that my key didn’t work. John happened to be walking by and I asked him if there was a trick to the door. He said no, but he would go get Brandon’s key and see if it worked. Sure enough, Brandon’s key worked and mine didn’t (I found out later that my landlord hadn’t given me the right key). So he stands there talking to me about why this key won’t work for an inordinate amount of time, while I’m putting in the wash. He was totally stalling. So on his way out, he looks at me and says, “You have beautiful hair.” I have curly brown hair, and it was not looking too cute on this occasion. Keep in mind I was also dressed for doing laundry. I was stunned for a second, and then said, “Oh. Well. Thank you.” Big smile. I tell ya, just that was enough to keep me floating for several days.
A few days pass, I run into him outside my apartment, and he starts chatting. I sat on my porch railing, and he started swinging on this tree kind of in front of it – in the process his shirt lifted up and I got a view of his happy trail – I swallowed hard. Once again, he seemed to be kind of stalling, but I still wasn’t sure – I’ve just never had a guy this hot be into me.
Then one night I drive up and see him walking around in Brandon’s apartment. Shirtless. Dear Lord, is he trying to torture me? He’s not a big guy, but he is nice and lean. And tattooed. I thought I might faint. By the time I made it onto my porch, he was outside, shirt on, chatting with me. He mentions that he’s never seen my place, and oh yeah, can he borrow a knife? Well, hell yes, and “What do you need to open?” Ha! It was one of those foil-backed packages of flea medicine (he has a really sweet dog). And yet I was so flustered that it didn’t occur to me until later that his brother surely has a knife or two in his apartment. He and his brother both work construction and are quite handy, so come on! Everyone here has those metal screen security doors, and we actually gazed at each other through them as he went back into his place (he’s temporarily living with Brandon).
So now we come to the night of the power outage. I got home around 9 pm and sure enough, everyone is hanging out in front of my apartment drinking beer. The new neighbor, Alex, offers up some rum, John goes with him, and I (duh) go too. While we’re making cocktails by flashlight, John reaches out and plays with my earring – “Nice,” he says. I was wearing one of my cuter dresses, and said, “Yeah I usually don’t teach in this (I teach part-time at a JC), but it’s been so hot.” He checks me out with the flashlight, and then says, “Very nice.” The night wears on, and I can tell some other chick (a friend of his brother’s girlfriend) is flirting with him – asking about past relationships, etc. She’s cute. I start to worry. Then Alex brings out some Japanese porn, and that takes the spotlight for a while. I get discouraged, and with a sigh, go to change into some more comfortable clothes.
By this point there are only a few of us left: me, John, Alex, and my next door neighbor and his girlfriend. After a while I decide that nothing’s going to happen, and start to head inside. He’s talking to Alex over in front of his place, looks at me, and says, “That’s it?” I said, “What do you mean, ‘that’s it.’ I’m going to bed.” I kind of fart around picking up the place and then head out onto the porch to clean it up. Someone had left their cocktail on my railing, and I asked, “Who’s is this?” Without missing a beat, he says, “It’s ours. It’s for you and me to share.” So the two us of sat on my front step talking, talking, talking. Mostly about how he was moving up to Oceanside for a while for a job, and didn’t have a place, and was getting rid of all of his stuff, and wanted to be a nomad, etc. etc. Ok, dude, I get it – you’re not looking for a girlfriend. The power had come back on by this time, but we were listening to oldies on this hand-cranked radio that had to be cranked every five minutes. It was actually quite romantic.
Brandon’s girlfriend happened to be staying over that night, and so John asked to come in and use my bathroom. Of course, and could he please help me get this ugly old towel rack off the wall in the bathroom? It’s two in the morning by this point, and we are slightly drunk. So he just yanks the thing off the wall. Ooh, strong! I didn’t ask him to, but he starts hanging the new towel rack. Cool! At one point he asks me to hold the bar that he’s about to put up. I was standing outside the bathroom, and he says, “No, come in here.” Now, my bathroom is tiny, and the door only opens about 90 degrees because it runs into the toilet. So for me to get in there, I had to s-q-e-e-z-e past him. So I’m standing there behind him holding a towel bar, he’s fiddling with something on the wall, and all of a sudden he turns around and kisses me. I of course kissed him back. We keep kissing, he takes the stupid towel bar out of my hand. Not the greatest kisser, but pretty darn good. He says, “This is a really bad idea,” I nod and say “uh-huh” but keep kissing him.
He walks us over to the bed, where we made out for about two hours. It was so, so hot – he kept doing that thing where he just kind of moved me around where he wanted me, you know? He told me that my nipples were delicious, and that my lips were so full and soft he felt like he just wanted to sink down into them forever, and various other half-coherent mutterings. Well, these are things my ex certainly never said. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so desired. And by Mr. Super Gorgeous Hottie! These things just don’t happen to me.
At one point he was making to take off my pants, and said, “I’ll rock your world girl,” at which point I started cracking up, because it was so not him. Then he’s like, “Seriously, I’ll go down on you for hours and you’ll have to make me stop.” Now, unfortunately, I had already decided that I wouldn’t let him go downstairs for a few reasons: 1. I wanted to heighten the anticipation and not get it all over in one shot, 2. I hadn’t taken a shower in two days, and 3. I hadn’t trimmed those hedges in about two months! Dear God, why couldn’t I at least have showered in the past 48 hours? WHY?! I told him that he really didn’t want to go there, and he said, “I don’t care what you look like down there,” but of course I did care – I mean, seriously, I would have been so embarrassed and distracted. Stinky 70s bush, um, no.
God it was so frustrating, too. Over and over he’d make his way down there – he was doing some crazy good half kissing half biting thing to my stomach – and start to pull down my pants (I was going commando). I’d very softly say, “John,” and he’d look up, say, “What? Huh? Oh, sorry” in this totally dazed sort of way, and then literally have to shake it off – he was definitely into it. The next morning he looked at me in the light, and told me how pretty I was. He stood by the bed, looking down at me, and said almost as if to himself, “Attractive, very attractive.” Then he kissed me on the forehead. Uh-oh. Somehow I think I already knew that was the kiss of death.