In October of 2012 I started blogging (using a different blog) and for those who are still unaware I lost all of my passwords to this older blog. I’m a hot mess but before all that happened I did have this other blog that I started using in October of 2012 and in December of 2012 Andrew emailed me (I think so) I’m not 100% sure, because I can’t check that blogs email anymore (due to the losing of all passwords). But when I did know the passwords to those emails I never really checked them, but I finally did around January and I was shocked to find an email from a person, who was nice and reminded me there’s hope in the world. Well, I emailed him back thanking him for the email and one of the few things I remember from our firsts encounter was how he had forgotten he had even emailed me. (I mean it had been almost two months).

I’m disappointed I lost those passwords because looking back at old emails would have made writing this a bit easier. It’s also difficult to write this particular post because Andrew is one of the few people I know personally who reads this blog and he’s the only one that knows about my blog that I’ve made out with. Wait, that’s not true…I made out with my friend Tina and she knows about this blog.

So Andrew, I’m going to write this knowing you’ll be reading this over and maybe I’ll actually say a few things I’ve never said to you. You’ve probably noticed I hold my cards pretty close to my chest nowadays. (every time I say, “chest” I just think of my boobs).

Andrew was born and grew up in the same town I went to college in. The town I call “my second home.” Of course, he no longer lives there and I was only living there because of school. We live pretty far from each other actually, but the times we did meet up were in his home town when we both happened to be there..

Andrew, I’ve always found you attractive and when I was clever enough to look you up on Facebook (this took a few months) I was like, “ok, cool this is a real person emailing me, who does have a beard and does write and…oh, you were in a relationship. So I moved quickly away from even imagining having sex or making out with you. You know, because before then it seemed like such a plausible idea. (Not) You didn’t live nearby and I never thought you liked me, in the sense of “you want to see me naked across a desk or make out with me.” I always assumed you thought of me as this sad, lost girl trying her best at writing and dating.

But that never stopped me from having a crush on you. Also, my friends made so much fun of me. That’s what friends do, they make fun of you when you have a crush on someone and I would just mention Andrew’s name and BAM:

“Whose Andrew? OOOOHHH Andrew…the writer. Where does he go? Oh, that one school right? Wait, doesn’t he have that picture of the city? Oh yeah, Andrew…he’s the one with the beard right?”

They were relentless. 

We didn’t actually meet face to face until December 2013. I think so, right? You met up with me at that one bar and my friend Valerie was with me. I never told you this but at some point during the night Valerie grabbed ahold of me and said, “you could do better.” 

Which was confusing, because A: You were in a relationship B: You’re attractive C: I didn’t think you liked me that way D: (Due to the facts of A & C), I never pictured I would ever make out with you anyway. Plus I never thought I would see you again. So why she felt the need to inform me about “better” I’ll never understand and for the fifth time Valerie felt the need to say something about someone I was attracted to and when she did approve of someone for me, she either ended up dating them or they were assholes.

But what isn’t there not to like about Andrew? (Using a random weird system, that has no clear-cut setup and is randomly inserted in this post). He’s much taller than me (5pts) He has a beard (20pts) and it’s red (40pts) He did speech and debate! (20pts) Enjoys “my second home” (20pts). He enjoys some kinky ass sex shit (50 pts).

December 2014 we met up again by chance. I had moved away from my “second home,” but I happened to be in town visiting my brother (who was still going to the college there) and Andrew was visiting family for the holidays. Andrew was single by this time and it was enough of a push in my inner workings to at least think about saying something. I had many small conversations with myself about mentioning something or not. (I know you can imagine me rambling on and on in my car asking myself, “Should I just say I find you attractive?” or “I want you to bend me over?”

I didn’t say anything the first night we had drinks. I was hoping he would have noticed my anxiety/nervousness levels around him. I suppose I’m always like that, so how could anyone even tell there was a difference? I did linger outside with him by the cars, but it would have been much easier to just tell me, “I picture you and I having sex all the time.” Driving back to where I was staying I continued the repeating phrase of, “Dammit I’m a mess! Why didn’t I say anything!?”

The second night we met up for drinks I walked out with him carrying on the internal struggle, “should I say something?” It wasn’t until half an hour later, after leaving the bar I got up the nerve to text him and slip in the fact that I wanted to make out with him.

Luckily he’s not in his head, luckily he wanted to kiss me, luckily he decided to drive all the way over to where I was staying. (My brother’s apartment on campus).

It was very romantic when you think about the willingness to drive over to kiss someone, the sweetness in his voice when he called me beautiful or the way he smiled. Then you realize you’re outside the Student Apartment Complex, nicknamed (SAC) which only brings to mind a picture of a man’s testicles. And you feel like you’re in high school again because you have nowhere to go and talk. Only inside a car to make out, which feels even more like high school. 

I suppose this is when a poem or a short story would point out it’s not the place (add crappy detail here), but the people in the place that creates this tone, this feeling (blah, blah, blah crappy poems about place).

Andrew, you are a wonderful man and you have a wonderfully booming voice, soft hands and you care. I’m utterly confused why you would even want to spend time with me.

Then there’s that moment where I sink into the back of my mind and list all the reasons why it doesn’t make sense that anyone would want to spend time with me, let alone go out of their way for me.

We would meet up the night before I was about to fly back home and you didn’t push me to have sex, you cared about me, held me and it was a soft moment. At the end of the night, you were happy to have spent time with me even though it never lead to sex. You said I was beautiful and still I was so confused to why you would want to spend time with me.

I did spend a good portion of the night panicking (I’m sure you noticed). It’s been a long time since I put myself in that position: Lying down with someone, completely sober and trusting someone to be near my naked body.

A part of me is a bit bummed I was stressed and panicked. So I hope maybe I’ll get another chance. I would enjoy seeing you again.

One of my favorite songs

Virgin Blow Job

Never do you imagine the “picture perfect” to happen: lying down with someone (who you went out of your way to see) in a corn field, by a tree, looking up at the stars, because they’re so clear in the Midwest, unlike in my hometown. You’re lying down on a blanket with a handsome guy cuddling  you and as you fool around he says” yeah it’s not like were getting married or anything so this is fine.”

Caillum is a virgin and I’m sure he still is (hence the present tense of this sentence) but I’m also sure he’s back with his girlfriend. He’s religious (church going) and I mean clearly he’s very religious (saving himself) He’s tall and has a red beard.

At the time, Caillum seemed to really like me. He was sweet, caring and said the nicest things about me.This was everything I thought I was looking for in someone, minus a few traits, but I was ok with the differences.

I was visiting my hometown when we started talking. He was living a state over from where I was going to school (but he was from the town where I was going to school) We Skyped when I was across the country and fell asleep via Skype more times than I can count.

When I got back to my school he wanted me to drive over and visit him and on two occasions I almost did. I mean I felt like I could trust this guy because I did know my best friends had known him since they were little kids in school but still…I was driving a long distance and it sounded more comforting to bring someone with me just in case. But I never went. Something in my gut told me not too, plus I didn’t have much cash at the time to be making trips like that and he was working so I wouldn’t even of had that much time to spend with him.

A few months later he told me he was moving about 45 minutes from where I lived. We were both excited. So the night he got into town I drove over to see him. It was 1AM and I almost didn’t go but decided to anyways. When I pulled into town it was extremely foggy and I got lost for 30minutes, plus he had fallen asleep and I almost turned back around until he picked up at the last minute.

I picked him up and we drove out to a corn field. We laid down together and it didn’t feel right. You know that feeling when you try on a pair of shoes and they’re too tight? That was the feeling. He was so handsome and had this wonderful smile and this perfect body, but it didn’t feel right. The kissing was ok, but it wasn’t anything to write home on:

I don’t believe first kisses are amazing, they are always a bit shaky, but we’re talking a few seconds tops and then it moves on. But most of the time you’re not thinking about the shake, you’re thinking about his hands, the heat or the energy coming off his body. But bad kissing you’re thinking about the tongue, why is it so wet and why is my face moist?

I didn’t fit into Caillum’s arms like a missing piece. It was awkward and stiff and he wasn’t soft. He was a virgin but I guess giving someone a blow job doesn’t count (it so fucking does) I’m sorry if there’s big white pearly gates and he shows up there in the afterlife I’m going to slap him and say, “you jerk I sucked your dick, same difference!”

But I went down on him nonetheless and he gave me nothing but bad fingering and awkward touching. Also, we went into dry humping and I was thinking to myself, “ok, I haven’t done this since Freshmen year of high school, what the fuck?! Really? No, I don’t do dry humping…I just have sex at this point.”

Again, for him there was no desire to be soft.  

When he told me “its not like we’re getting married” it wasn’t that I had been dreaming of marrying him or anything close to that. It’s just that when someone makes a statement like that you really feel like a chew toy. I was a girl to enjoy sin with because I was sinful. I was quick pleasure and then one day he would find another girl to call sweet, to call Girlfriend and he would take her inside his house, have her meet his friends and family. I was just something to fuck with until the real deal came along. That’s how I felt and that’s how I had been feeling with the past few guys. I was a good time. Not the girl you want to hold all night long, or call beautiful. I felt like such a piece of meat and I thought about all the looks, all the moans when I took my clothes off, when someone grabbed my hips and flipped me over in position.

I was walking entertainment and I felt so shitty.

I would spend one more night with Caillum, because I was lonely and he Facebooked me out of the blue to join in him the corn field again and pretend it’s romantic and ignore the fact that I’m just a warm body.

I pushed these thoughts to the back of my mind and took my shirt off and pretended to enjoy his arms grasping at me.