I never labeled myself as a heart breaker. In fact if I had to stamp myself with one word it would be: Independent. I've always been the kind of girl that marched to her own drummer, goes on solo dates with herself, was able to go to the ladies room by herself without her entourage following, speaks her mind, dresses for herself, and is just as happy single as she is in a relationship. It's something I've always been proud about. But recently when in a class at the college I attend, a group of classmates and I were giving each other tag lines. It got a bunch of laughs as we gave a tag to everyone in the circle..and then it was my turn. "Don't fall in love with her, she'll only break your heart." ...I didn't know whether to laugh or simply cry. Of course I laughed and brushed it off during class. But as I drove home, I began to think...am I really like that? Is that how the world sees me? Now I know this blog I write doesn't help that opinion of me. But, it's the chance I take and this blog reveals my inner thoughts and experiences I've had. Those that are close to me know that I'm made up of various things...
As an independent girl I sometimes think a little different than the average chick a dee, but I don't think that qualifies me as necessarily a "heart breaker" Here's what I mean: This past weekend as I laid in bed next to this great guy, I realized "I'm an asshole." Let me explain...
As a lot of you know from reading my past blogs, I'm on a drought. Yes, it's still happening and no, I will not reveal how long it's been. With this drought happening, my friends, people at the radio station, and co-workers are wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Get it over and done with, this isn't healthy. You would think I have some kind of disease by the pity looks I receive. I realize it is by my own choice and to tell you the truth I'm not really sure what I'm waiting on. Not necessarily the knight in shining armour but I do know I'm not going to settle for the guy at the bar that smells of corn chips and unemployment either.
So, there I am at this local place that my close friends and I always hang out at. It's no glamorous place to say the least. It's a kind of Cheers bar, where everyone knows your name...and your panty line, if you make your way around...if you know what I mean. (No, I do not know this from personal experience.)
There's a bartender there who we'll call....Steve. Steve and I have known each other for almost a year, the flirtation has always been there but nothing to ever come of it. He's your typical shy guy, doesn't say too much in person but as soon as you leave he'll text you exactly what was going on in his head while you were there. This personally can get kind of annoying to me. Doing this once in awhile is fine. But all the time? Eh, it's a dryer upper. But, since he has this Mark Ruffalo cuteness about him I never really thought too much about it.
On this certain night, Steve had the night off and was drinking with his buddies. I was celebrating a smart decision I had made and was having a few beers with some of my friends. Now, I don't want to toot my own horn, but I'd like to think I'm just as fun when out and sober as I am when out with alcohol running in my veins...but let's really be honest with each other, alcohol adds a little bam to your personality. And not to sound Jersey Shore-ish but I can be "a blast in a glass" with a few gin and tonics in me.
The night was going good, Steve must have drank some courage that night because he said much more to me than the usual seven point five words and his hands began to find my hips. The invitation to hang out afterwards was stated many times. After a few Cupid Shuffle dances with the girls, watching my intoxicated friend dirty dance with some guy to Elton John's "Benny and The Jets", and 5 glasses of whatever later, it was last call.
Now, let me just state, I don't stick by one person when out, I'm pretty much a social butterfly and try to make my way and talk to everyone that catches my interest. Well, by doing this I lost sight of Steve. I went up to the other regular bartender, Charlie, that one of my good friends Sarah is seeing (aka sleeping with) and is a roommate of Steves and asked if he had left. He said "Yeah, but he went to the store to pick up some stuff and told me to tell you to make sure you come over with Sarah afterwards."
Sarah heard this statement from Charlie and let out one of those girl shrieks that irritates the hell out of me. She just knew deep down, my drought was going to end that night.
Steve? To cure my drought? It could work. Let the games begin...
So, before I left the bar I did a routine that any girl would do to freshen up: pee, fix hair, powder nose, gloss the lips, fix the girls, spray a dab of perfume on the wrists, cleavage, and hair...jump up and down for some energy (yes, I do that. Don't you?) and head off to the desired destination.
As I rode with Sarah to Steve and Charlies place ( we rotate turns for DD) we discussed what was going to happen. And she asked if I shaved my legs. Uh, yeahhh! What does she think I'm a cave woman when I go out? Her response? "It just seems to be bad luck for girls when they shave the legs and who ha and are prepared." Well, shouldn't that mean you should ALWAYS be prepared then? Matching bra and panties, shaved legs and who ha...Come on now.
As we arrived at the house after our seven minute drive and stop at the gas station for some beer, there were a few other cars there. Mostly owned by a few of the regulars that always go to the "Cheer's Bar."
As we walked in, we all exchanged hellos and grabbed a beer. But there was no sight of Steve. I asked Charlie where he was and pointed to a bedroom and told me just to go in. "Whatever" I thought to myself. I was either going to just find him in his room, by himself, being anti-social or I was going to find him and someone else curing his anti-social status. I knocked on the door and I heard a "come in" As I walked in ,the lights were dimmed down low and he was laying on his bed watching the movie "Forgetting Sarah Marshall"
I asked if he was planning on coming out in the living room with the rest of us and he simply stated "No, I'm just going to hang out in here." I figured this was my cue to leave him alone and turned around to walk out of his bedroom, I stopped leaving when I heard "but you can stay and keep me some company."
I accompanied him on his bed as I layed and watched "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" for the forty-seventh time. I didn't pay attention much to the movie because the whole time I was thinking "Are you going to make a move or what?"
Now I'm definitely not too shy to make the move or to bring it up, I mean you're reading the girl's blog who the first time she ever kissed a boy, and he was talking about wanting to kiss me the whole time beforehand I looked over and said "So are we going to talk about it or are you going to actually kiss me?" But for once in my life, I would not like to be the controlling one in the situation, hoping someone would let me enjoy being a girl and take over for once. I was hoping Steve would be that one.
After the movie was FINALLY over, he turned off the lights. Okay, I thought to myself. Lets get this ball rolling...
fifteen minutes later...nothing.
twenty five minutes late...nothing.
I finally turned facing away from him, because I was getting kind of annoyed. If I just wanted to lay in bed, I would go home to my comfy bed and have my dog Gracie sleep in bed with me.
Dear Steve, There is a twenty three year old Blonde girl in your bed...
All of a sudden he made a move...So, he is alive, I thought to myself.
He got close to the back of my head and whispered "you looked absolutely beautiful tonight."
I was flattered, but really the "notebook" shit was the last thing I wanted at that moment.
He then began to spoon me. Yes, I said spoon me. I was hoping and praying there was a type of pre spoon in his world before sex and this is like some kind of warming up stance for him that they may do in this area where he lives. Kind of like a foreplay perhaps.
I may be the only girl I know that isn't a fan of spooning. I know, I am a rare breed. Like a fucking unicorn or a sober Hilton girl or something. I may not like it because I've never been intimate with someone that I loved. So, spooning always felt like a chore and I would count down the minutes till it seemed long enough that I could get up and leave without looking like a bitch.
This pre spooning went on for at least a full episode of "It's always Sunny in Philadelphia" I had to do something. So I turned around and faced him. Hello, I am here! Here are my glossed lips and my vagina and they are towards your direction..lets go!
Nothing.
Finally, my hair must have been in my face, he smoothly pushed my hair back and leaned in and kissed me...with no tongue.
Normally I would not be complaining. Some of my favorite kisses have been with no tongue. The old Hollywood kiss. Sometime, I prefer that. In fact, the majority of the time. But not when my vagina is aching after an odd number of months.
After we were done having our kiss, he literally intertwined his legs with mine in some pretzel manner, and wrapped his arms around me.
There I am laying down in an unknown bed, wondering what time it is, and feeling like a damn Auntie Anne's Pretzel at the mall.
What did I do wrong in my previous life?
So, I soldiered it up and thought to myself this cant be it.
And then he reached for my hand and we locked fingers. I felt like he was a growth coming off my body, that's how smushed we were together.
This had to be the opening act. I thought to myself. I mean every main headliner has an opening band, this has to be the sucky opening band.
And then I heard the snoring...
Seriously? Seriously? I have been laying here with you for god knows how long and you want to sleep, spoon, snore in my ear, and act like Ryan Gosling from the Notebook. Grrrrrr.
Luckily, I had my phone in my pocket and texted Sarah in hopes that she fucked Charlie and was ready to go home.
1st text: Sarah.
2nd text: Sarahhhhhhh
3rd text: You so better be having sex
4th text: I'm going to smack you hard when I see you.
I must have fell asleep with snoring boy, because I woke up and looked at my phone and an hour had passed by.
No text from Sarah and I was still holding hands with Steve.
I began to look around his room without moving my body, I counted thirty seven movies, eight TV shows on DVD, and a big book of psychology on his shelf.
Dear Steve, You might want to see if there's a medical term in your Psych book for you having a man-gina and wanting to spoon all night.
I was over this whole being nice thing and was just about to move my body and risk going to jail by stealing Sarah's car when I realized "I'm an asshole"
Yep, to put it on the fricking table "Hotto is an asshole"
A lot of girls I'm friends with complain constantly on how their significant other never wants to cuddle, spoon, hold hands, and here I am knocking it and getting annoyed.
Then i realized those friends of mine aren't on a drought either.
So I am aloud to be an asshole. It is my right.
I moved my arms and legs out of this looped contraption he made with our bodies, grabbed my purse, walked out of Steve's room, and called Sarah.
Lucky for me she was ready to go.
On the way home, I told her what happened and she of course made every excuse in the book for him: Maybe he respects you. Maybe he wants a relationship. Maybe he was too drunk and knew he wouldn't be able to perform.
Or maybe Sarah, he's sporting a man-gina!
So, in closing if I could leave you with four last statements, they are this...
1.) I now know how a Auntie Anne Pretzel feels.
2.) I hate spooning now more than ever,
3.) If the theory is true, that shaving jinxes you...all of us should run around with hairy legs.
4.) Who ever said spooning leads to forking has never met Steve the bartender.
XoX
Hotto
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