Martinis, Bitches, & Sexcapades

13 Nov

by me.

Short fiction story I wrote as an assignment back in my college days.  I always kind of liked it, this overalanlytical adorabley half innocent half not character. So I figured its enough to read to keep you occupied until I get back from Meheecoo!

Adrian and I have been having deep late night sporadic conversations for awhile now. They add up. I sat in my room, with white bare walls I attempted to decorate with posters of famous paintings. I sat at my large wooden desk, on my desktop, having an instant message conversation with him for the fourth day in a row.

“Ughh I need to go to sleep.” I typed.

“Noooo, don’t leave me! I”m going to text you, ok?”

It was OK. It was more than okay. I don’t know when my feelings started evolving into serious interest but I was suddenly even getting goodnight phone calls where neither of us wanted to hang up. I kind of liked it. We hadn’t seen each other in a year. He was in the Marines, but had recently been discharged for a health problem. I barley knew him when he left, but every once in a blue moon I’d initiate a heart to heart with him in which I’d spill my guts and tell him my fears. He was such a good listener, sometimes relating the things I said to his own life.

“So this girl I am seeing won’t sleep with me.” He told me one day.

“Oh are you used to every girl sleeping with you?” I teased.

It’s just that we had sex once and it was amazing. I just don’t understand you women, why won”t she do it again?”

“Maybe she feels like she did it too soon or she is just scared of falling for you.” I decided.

“I’m scared too, I always find these girls that need saving, but they always make stupid decisions.” He admitted to me.

“We want to see how hard you try.” I hinted, with sudden realization.

Then one day he invited me over to his coming back party. I figured it would be one of my missions that once I accomplished, I would drop. I always feel strongly at the time though. After days of thinking nonstop once this invitation was given, we had developed something. Maybe he would be the one to save me from my cycle; I can’t remember ever having this weird feeling of happy anticipation in my stomach.

And when the day came, he handed me a beer outside and I sat on the carpet that for whatever reason was laying in the yard. He sat beside me. There were’t a lot of people and it quickly died down, and once it was only close friends left he somehow found my lips. I wish I had drunk less and remembered the moment more specifically, but I just recall passionately continuing in the kitchen. He was scruffy, and his sideburns tickled the back of my neck as he gave my exposed skin soft kisses. When his friends finally shuffled inside to say their goodbyes, he held my hand the whole time.
And when we finally made love, it wasn”t awkward as I worried it might be. It was playful. I remember trying to hold on to his hair so I could push him deeper into me but it was just barley long enough and my fingers kept slipping off. His skinny body was heaving under me. We giggled occasionally at the silly things I’d say that were so wrong and yet so Raquel. I felt accepted, and it was a mutual acceptance that was rare for me.

I don’t know where exactly the nervousness came from, but once we finished it didn’t seem so playful and comforting. I laid beside him I suddenly didn’t feel so good. Maybe my buzz was wearing off. It had after all been hours since I consumed my last drink. We laid on a mattress he had pulled into a small, hot room, and the electricity in his house wouldn”t be turned on for another two days. In that dark, hot silence, I did what every guy fears, I cried. I bawled my eyes out right in front of him for no apparent reason but my own discomfort.

He held me, not really understanding.

“I like you,” he assured me.

“Please don’t. There is no point.”I slurred, drunker then I had previously realized.

“Liking leads to dating, dating leads to breakups. Breakups hurt.”

“I can’t predict the future, but I know at this exact moment we can make each other happy.”He consoled me.

In my head I wondered what could be wrong with him that he could feel towards me romantically. Listen to the irrational excuse I had just come up with! And although I trusted him, and felt it, but I wouldn’t say it back. This round of the sick twisted love game would be concluded and he would be in power because if I voiced my feelings aloud, I would no longer be able to deny it to myself. I would be left, for the first time ever, vulnerable.

That morning we were together was decent. I peeled off the top of my yogurt and poured the granola in. I mixed it with a plastic spoon. “Diets are so appetizing, aren’t they? ” I casually mentioned as I popped a cherry into my mouth. I was never really a cherry fan and still haven’t quite figured out the concept of how to eat one so I just sucked all the meat off, using my tongue to check on the pit before I’m able to spit it out and avoid choking to death. Death by cherry pit. Wouldn’t that look lovely on my tombstone? I couldn’t help but to snicker and he gave me a weird look as he washed his hands. Again, it was weird. I mean sure, we had fooled around, ate, and he even used the bathroom but seriously I’ve ran my hands under the water like once and here he is scrubbing yet again. I’m even a nail biter and my hand germs haven’t killed me yet. Why am I standing next to this guy washing his hands yet again, like should I just wash mine too?

“Come on babe, I’ll take you home.” I didn’t like that. We both had nothing to do, it was Sunday and we were lazily lying around. That’s what I thought the next few hours would consist of, so why was he trying to take me home? Didn’t he enjoy my company? I hoped I wasn’t the mistake he woke up next too. I hated myself for caring already.

I was in desperate need of a night with my ladies, so I called my two best friends, Marie and Stephanie. We picked up a cocktail mixer and some gin and sat on Stephanie’s porch. Sadly, our ladies nights usually revolved around me complaining about my latest flame. My happiness seems to be revolved around men. Am I obsessive?

Stephanie came out with three martini glasses. She looks like she was still in yesterday’s makeup, but it didn’t matter because her slightly slanted, dark eyes, pale skin, button nose and pouted lips didn’t need to be played up with cosmetics, she had natural beauty. Her straight blonde hair had a wave to it that proved she wasn’t out to impress anybody at the moment. It was just us girls.

“Maybe you should just realize you aren’t so perfect and allow yourself to be happy with someone instead of screwing up every good thing by being crazy.” Stephanie told me with a sigh as she poured a third glass of mango martini.

I mean yes, I’m always sad when a guy I’ve spent time and energy on isn’t right for me. It’s like a book ending or an offspring moving out. That’s it, it’s over. The character has gotten to know, love, and appreciate me and then I watch all those feelings disappear. I will admit, I’m a sensitive person and I back off at the first sign of getting hurt. Then I find a replacement to fill that missing void.

But she always has a boyfriend. We’re such different people I didn’t even think I could comprehend her advice since we just had such different perspectives on love.

“You know you like the dude- why do you always have to front?” She demanded.

I felt tears welling up. She was so right but I’ve started over so many times that I’m numb when it comes to the opposite sex. I just don’t appreciate all this caring and learning for any purpose. If I could fall in love with someone, shouldn’t I know right away? Some people fear waking up alone. A lot of people do, actually. I’m probably one of those people. And yet, there is a side of me that is in a constant struggle with the side of me that is content. What if I am just impatiently missing out on what else is out there? What if I’ll never be truly happy? This side fears being forty with children, waking up in a beautiful house and realizing I don’t truly love the man next to me. And that other side nags me to get over it. You already wasted too much time it tells me. I’m so young and I like to think I’m decent looking if not better. This is my youth. I just wanted them to understand.

“This is exactly why. ” I took a large gulp of the liquid encouragement before continuing. “It would be so much worse if I had admitted to liking him. ”

He hadn’t answered my calls in three days, and I had opened up to him a lot more than I planned too. Being dumped is one thing, but being dumped after sharing your fears and secrets definitely burns. I was rejected for who I am exactly.

“Because you are a lunatic.” Stephanie mumbled, as if she was reading my thoughts. I gazed at her, clearly worked up.

“Listen,”Marie stepped in,you’re neurotic but I think guys find it cute.”

I took moment to let that sink in. Marie was petite. I was always jealous because she came up with the craziest outfits that only she could pull off. She sat beside me, patting my back, with a string tied around her forehead, dangling down on black hair. She had no makeup on her clear, yellow skin. I finally wailed in response. She poured more of the martini concoction into my already half full glass.

“You just need to take a more balanced view on things. Relationships are work, you can’t just decide if a person is right for you in the matter of a few days.” Marie stated in a matter of fact way.

“If you’re going to play the field, actually play it and stop getting these false hopes, you know the ones you won’t even admit too, into your head.” Stephanie made a good point.

I stumbled into her bed, alone, too drunk to even put on a pair of pajamas or wash my face. No wonder this massive red bump had grown between my eyebrows. Maybe I’d just stay here tomorrow and avoid people. Or maybe, more likely, I’ll drink myself into a care free state like I did every other day.

My friends refused to allow this. That morning they told me to call Adrian and make normal plans and normal conversation at an attempt to start a normal relationship. And so I did.

We were to meet at a local old man bar. I checked my outbox for the fourth time, analyzing my own words. I hoped it was not too late to gain a filter. I hope I haven’t already killed this. I sat in my car, chain smoking, when finally he popped his head out of the bar door. ” I’m trying to get you drunk here, get inside.”

I walked in and my initial reaction was that this bar was different then where I would typically go. It was small and dark with pool tables and a couple of stools against the wall, filled with the typical Guatemalan stereotypes. The bartender was an older man.

“What do you want to drink?” Adrian asked.

“I can buy myself one.” I shot back, but looking at the floor.
He gave me a strange look.

“Apple Martini”I responded in a defeated tone, not really wanting to spend my own money anyway.

“Exactly” he smirked. I yearned for his confidence.

He came back with a cranberry and vodka. “You too fancy, uh? ” He winked as he handed it to me. We started to converse; his head has been ridiculously close to mine for a long time period. He’s telling me how I have to learn to live in the moment. I loved talking to him; I could be myself and laugh about it. We are not being flirting but subtlety discussing our situation. That”s what may have made out discussions so interesting. I must of fell for his unique approach.

But its getting late and the bar will be closing soon. “After party at Raquels! ” one of his friends announced but I told them I probably wasn’t going to make it home. I already knew the deal. We parked outside of the new designated after party house, waiting for the others.

“Come here” he commanded, pushing his seat back. It was tempting. With every nerve ending in my body, I wanted to be on him. To feel him. To feel cared about even if just for the time being. I awkwardly straddled him. “Aren’t we a little old for this? ” I asked. Stupid me. Always a moment killer. “Nah” he muttered as his hands pushed my bra up and his lips found his way around my soft flesh. I let him have his way with his hands; I liked the warmth. I “love your legs” he groped at me, making me insecure of my weight. I don’t know what it was about him but again, my comfort levels a little low due to his head start on drinking. I don’t know why I always need to be drunk to talk to him.

“I need to get you home,” he muttered longingly yet softly. He urged me off of him and went into gear; we headed toward his house, completely forgetting about his friends waiting.

The walk to his living room is blurry; I grabbed a Bud Light from his fridge on the way. He flipped the TV on and nudged me onto his lap. The chair was big and comfortable. We reclined. He tried to cuddle and be sweet but I just turned my head and took a big chug of my beer.

Of course, in my tipsy state I allowed him to lead me to his big bed. We fooled around, but it was different this time around. Something in people changes after they make love. Maybe this is the stage people worry me and so I replace them. I didn’t lie his tone with me, his obnoxious jokes didn’t burn last time we were in bed together.

He excused himself to go to the bathroom, and I sat where he left me with my own thoughts. “Uh.. did you want me to take you to your car or are you spending the night? ” He asked from outside. Ouch. I wanted to have to pry his arms off of me, I wanted him to consider calling out of work just to lie and talk to me.

Then it hit me! Did I just fall victim to an asshole? Did he trick me into liking him just so he could get into my pants? Is he some kind of sicko that put up with deep conversations and telephone calls just for the sport of it? Was the chase better than the catch? I met him at a bar near closing after three days of no communication for goodness sake.

But then it really hit me. I had tricked myself. Honestly, what did I even know about him except that he was in the marines and that he would listen to me when he had nothing better to do? I got emotionally attached once I spilled my guts out and I tricked myself into thinking I could fall for this guy just because he gave me the right kind of attention. He forgot I existed after his party and somehow, because I sought him out, I find myself here with him. Drunk.

I started fussing with my phone just to look busy. I couldn’t stay here, but I couldn’t drive drunk either. I scrolled down my phone. James. We hadn’t hung out in such a long time but I knew he worked the late shift at an airport in the town over from Adrians. I knew he was a good guy, I always had a secret crush on him. We kissed once, years back, but it was nothing serious. I texted him, and he sensed something was wrong.

Again, I spilled my heart out, typing away like crazy. I told him all about Adrian, and how lonely he made me feel. I complained to him how done I was with the male species, especially Adrian.

Adrian hadn’t asked what I was doing. He had already turned himself around and forgot about me, lonely next to him. I told James how I thought I fell for this guy, and I agreed to meet up after making a fool of myself, but how I now feel even stupider. He was my chance at change, but I was just his bootycall.

“Guys suck. You can’t trust them. I am so so sorry.”

“I don’t know what to do right now I am so upset.”

“Just wait till I get out of work, I’ll come pick you up and bring you wherever you need.”

A couple hours later, after Adrian was asleep, James pulled into the driveway.

“Hey.” I got into the car and he smiled at me. I wondered if his smile meant a million things, because I know the one I returned held appreciation, admiration, and high regards.

“What do you wanna do?” I asked

“You had a rough night,do you want to park somewhere and talk?”

“I’d like that very much.” I answered, genuinely glad.

And we did. We spoke about anything and everything, even what had just happened and my feelings about it. He didn’t try to kiss me, but I knew I would hear from him again shortly. He reversed out of the spot, deciding I need some sleep. I rested my hand on his thigh once we got on the highway, registering that I had found my replacement.

Adrian washed his hands to often anyway.

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