Throughout the evening, one of the guys, Darryl from LA, took a liking to me. We discussed books and movies in depth. We discovered our love of the written word; he worked in publishing, me, the writer/editor. We got so immersed that when we came up for air, everyone had moved to the dance floor and we were left huddled on the bankette.
The night wore on, the deep conversation turned to flirting, and when everyone started heading home around 4am, he "realized" he'd miss the trains back to his friend's crib in Jersey. One of my girls, who knew him from back home, said he could crash with her-in her tiny studio. Me, reverting back to my naïve self, told him he could sleep on my pull out-in my giant one bedroom. It made more sense, in my opinion.
We arrived back at my apartment and let him know I was serious about him SLEEPING over. I grabbed a blanket and pillow and pulled out the sofabed. It was like that scene in Love Jones where a horny Nina makes an even hornier Darius sleep on the couch. I was heading back to my bedroom when he said, "you going to sleep now?" Haha. Of course. I went back and sat down on the couch with him. We listened to music, talked for a while, and just chilled. We were doing said chilling when Beyonce's "Speechless" blarred through my Mac's speakers. "Love this song," he said. "Let's dance." Get outta here, that's so corny to me. I said so to him. He stood up and yanked me to my feet. Apparently it wasn't up for discussion, but that forcefulness right there???!!!! Yes, you don't have to save mine for later, I want it right now!
We're slow dancing just the way we weren't supposed to at middle school dances. Hands roving, bodies pressed together, his breath steaming up my neck, lips kissing it gently. I was melting. No, no, no, I told myself as he pulled away, cupped my face and neck. He kissed my right cheeck, my left, my forehead, the side of my mouth, my temple. I was just sort of dying, but I kept telling myself I was not going to sleep with him. I am turning over a new leaf gatdamnit!
And then he kissed me. And I actually blacked out. If this were a movie and he were Idris Elba, you all would be dying up in the movie theater too. Slapping hands and "mmhmm girl-ing." Jeeeez-us.
The kiss got intense, he wrapped my legs around him, picked me up, and sat back down on the couch. Argh! I will not sleep with him, I will not sleep with him! I won't even diet coke him, my thoughts cried out as my body screamed for a bit more. Okay, a lot more.
After some intense making out, several attempts on his part to go down on me, I let him know, verbally, that there would be no sex. It was through clenched teeth and I probably would've lost my will power had he contested, but instead he said, "I don't even have condoms. This wasn't the goal." Eh, I don't believe dudes much, but I took it as a possibility. We kissed a bit more and eventually fell asleep listening to music.
Sometime after the sun rose, we woke up and he headed to catch the train back to Jersey. He went on and on about how great it was to meet me, texted me to inform me that he had in fact found the PATH station, and hit me a day or two later.
In the two weeks that followed, I've been a distant thought apparently. So the million dollar question: Huh?! I was such a good girl and yet no reward. Lame, someone point me in the right direction, please. My brain seems to have had liposuction.
That bitch stole my line,