I am caught between sweet hope, and a terrible fear that I am about to get my heart broken again. Wednesday night I got a text from Jacob wanting to meet up. Of course I said yes, and I already knew what was going to happen. We met up at El Camino for some live jazz. He was being his cute and flirty self – he got me to come up and dance with him for a minute, gave me a kiss on the shoulder when he got up to go the bathroom, introduced me to a friend of his. He told me all about his crazy trip to SF, we laughed a lot, and generally had a good time. The show ended around midnight, and we sat outside on a bench talking. He told me for the nth time how great he thinks I am, and that I was so much fun. He said, “You’re so beautiful, when you walk into a room every guy looks at you.” I told him that I was finally starting to get that, and he was just like, “It’s true!” He told me he hadn’t expected me to get up and dance with him, that he was very pleasantly surprised. My instincts were right on that one – I knew that he would like it, that it would be a mistake for me to act all shy. And besides, when it comes to dancing, I’m not shy anyway. He told me how much he liked hanging out with me, that although the sex was awesome, he really loved just talking to me.
We decided to go to another bar, but we went to his place first so he could drop off his bike. He told me he really wanted to take me out on it, but he only had one helmet at the moment. He was like, “I really want to put you on the back of my bike with me. It would be scary…” and I said, “Yeah, but I want to do it anyway,” which is true. As soon as I saw that damn bike I could picture him taking me for a ride, lol. He picked me a flower from his balcony garden, making sure that I knew that it was the most perfect flower he had. There were fig trees in the courtyard and he pulled some figs down so we could eat them. He took a couple hits of weed. At one point he said, “Have you lost weight?” and I said, yes, 12 pounds. He’s like, “I mean, I always thought you were hot, but now…just keep doing what you’re doing.” He said that he had lost weight, too, and at first I was thinking, “Whoa…” because he’s already a skinny fucker. But then he lifted up his shirt, and holy crap he actually has a few muscles now! No complaints from this gal.
We start walking to the bar, and he grabs my hand. Sigh, that’s kind of nice. I had never been to this bar, and he kept going on and on about how it was a tranny bar and I needed to be prepared and yada yada. I just rolled my eyes – I was an art major in college, I’ve spent my fair share of time in gay bars, and yes, around (gasp!) trannies. The bar was fine – it was Wednesday so pretty empty, with just a few gay couples and a couple of “girls.” His friend Chris (whom I had met at bar N before) and his wife were there. It was kind of cool, because we all just started talking to one another, we didn’t really stay “coupled up.” At one point I found myself outside smoking with Chris, and I said, “God, he thinks I’m some kind of Pollyanna or something, ” and Chris said, “Yeah he kind of does.” At one point the boys went to the bathroom or something and were gone a really long time – I assume there were drugs or the sale of same involved, but whatever. Chris’ wife asked how I had met Jacob, and so I ended up telling her the whole sordid tale. She took the attitude that I might as well get what I want from him, so why keep denying the sex? I had had this thought myself, and I suppose that was all the reinforcement I needed.
We had decided to go to my place after the bar since he didn’t have any booze, so we walked back to get my car. He held my hand the whole way. He picked a little jasmine flower and I put it behind my ear. We started talking about “us,” and he said that he was starting to get it about the whole making plans thing, that he would give me more notice. I tried to explain that it wasn’t about giving notice, it was about him constantly cancelling on me. Still not sure if he got that, he said he wasn’t used to someone so “strict.” Good grief. I tried to explain that when I feel insecure because I don’t know where I stand with someone, yeah, it makes me a little crazy; if I feel loved and secure I can be the most laid-back person in the world. He said that he wanted to start hanging out with me a lot more, and I said that would be great.
We picked up my car, and on the drive back over to my place he said something about how he was worried because he knew I dated all these other guys, and wasn’t I seeing someone? WTF? I had to convince him that no, I wasn’t seeing anyone at all – I don’t know where in the hell he got that idea! He told me that one of his fondest memories was of the night we met, sitting on metal chairs on my patio, talking about art. Really?? When we were getting out of the car somehow we ended up kissing (yup, here we go) and he paused and said, “Mmm, that was a nice kiss. You’re a better kisser than I am.”
Once we got inside he insisted on making us gimlets – a drink I had introduced him to. We went outside and sat on those same metal chairs and argued about art for a while, and I started to get pretty drunk. At one point we ended up just standing in the kitchen talking. He was pretty fucked up, and tried to tell me that we had met online. Then he tried to say that he was in his Mr. A’s uniform when we met. Umm, no, and no. I was admittedly pretty toasted the night we met, but I remember the important details. I got really upset and walked out onto the front porch, slamming the door behind me. He came out after me, and I don’t even remember what he said to calm me down. He told me that I had to stop beating him up for things that had happened in the past, that it made him feel like I didn’t like him. I told him that I wasn’t trying to beat him up, that I like him very much, but that I didn’t trust him – he would have to earn that.
Back into the kitchen. God he said so many things to me that gave me deja vu: he wanted us to get dressed up and go out. He told me how nice it felt just walking down the street holding my hand. That he was proud to be with me. A couple of things he said actually shocked me: he said he wanted to “date” me, that he wanted us to get to know each other better. At one point he burst out, “You know I’m so in love with you, I’m SO in love with you.” Whaaat?? I don’t even remember what I said in response to this, if anything. I’m still extremely confused by it. I mean, would he really go that far just to get me to sleep with him? Christ I hope not. But if it’s true…well you could have fooled me, asshole! Did he mean it in a “friend” sort of way? I don’t know, but damn him for giving me a flicker of hope!!
At one point he had said he just wanted to curl up in bed with me. Yeah right. When it became apparent that I was willing to go further than that, he asked if he could undress me. Why of course. The sex was good, although not as volcanic as when we had hooked up before. He’s actually pretty good with his fingers, which most guys aren’t. We did it once that night (around 4 am), once again at around 8, and then finally again at around 11. After the first time I couldn’t sleep. I just lay there thinking everything over, and kind of freaking out about the fact that he was in my bed. Again. After everything that had happened. Was this a huge mistake? Was he being sincere?
In the AM he kept asking me for glasses of water, which was kind of annoying – uh, shouldn’t you be getting water for me, you little selfish bastard? I had to get up to go teach my class, and god I was so hungover. I told him he could hang out for a while if he wanted to, I would leave the key so he could lock the door. He just muttered, “Mmm, so comfortable.” No kiss, no nothing. Hmm. On the drive up to school, I couldn’t stop the flashbacks of us having sex, and it kept giving me chills. I sent him a sexy text about it. Never got a response. Ok, now I feel like an idiot.
To be continued…