General wisdom is that most women can find an uncanny resemblance to their fathers in the men they’ve dated. I’m sure that’s true. Louie is an only child who loves nerdery in all its forms, tells punny jokes and gives the silent treatment like nobody’s business. Hi, that’s my father. Awesome. But what about the guy that you rebelled with, your dad’s opposite? Because that dude is popping up like crazy.
I didn’t realize until I took his shirt off that, aside from having a normal sized nose, he was him. He was the boy I lost my virginity to. It creeped me out a little. I could have used a little warning.
He didn’t kiss me or touch me the way Bob did, so his flat stomach and boyish hips were where the similarities ended, but I couldn’t help thinking I had come all this way, weathered all these years, fucked all these dudes, and here I was back at square one. What was the take-away lesson the universe wanted shoved down my craw? I still don’t know. Maybe that every once in a while your past is shoved in your face and you wind up kissing it in a stairwell?
It always makes me a little sad to think about Bob and what I did to him. The revenge I took. I really did love him. I really did trust him and need him in my life. But I also really needed him to step up and love me back, and if he did, he never let on.
I’m pretty sure my parents thought he was responsible for my wild behavior. Little did they know my pot-smoking love interest was the least of their worries. Well, not the least, he was responsible for the gigantic party I threw at my house during Spring Break while my parents were away. But if he had his way, I would have never done crystal meth and been a nice little stoner chick who gave good head. He didn’t have his way. I did crystal meth and I’ve had a couple of dudes tell me I don’t give head for shit. (Thanks for the honesty! fuckers.) But that whole week, despite the fact that he stayed at my house, he wouldn’t sleep in the same bed with me. I was tweaking and he was stoned and the two do not mix. I don’t think he even wanted to kiss me. He never understood meth, and he certainly never understood why I would want to stay up all night when we could get stoned and cuddle in my sister’s king sized bed.
When I came home from college for Christmas break, my best friend and Bob were the only two people I wanted to see. I wanted Bob to kiss me and touch my ear. He had a thing about ears. He loved to have your ear lobe between his fingers. I loved the way he kissed me. He’s the reason I like to have one hand on my neck under my hair and the other at the small of my back pulling me close when I’m being kissed. Does everyone like it that way? If so, why don’t more dudes know this? I actually had someone kind of lightly put their hand on my shoulder while they were kissing me. And it kind of creeped me out. If your tongue is in my mouth, why does it feel like I am getting a polite hug from my grandma’s best friend?
The boy that had Bob’s 19 year old body pulled me back in time. And I thought about how horrible it felt to lose my virginity with a Rush record playing in the background. Having Rush play felt even worse than the fact that I was on a dirty couch in the living room of a two room trailer while my best friend and her boyfriend were screwing in the other room that didn’t even have a door. Welcome to my psyche, it is a white trash romantic. I don’t know what music I hoped would be playing, but I certainly didn’t want it to be Rush. And I was way too into grunge to have it be something like Boyz to Men, but can’t a girl get a little Smashing Pumpkins or even Nirvana? (God, reading those band names and thinking about how bad that first time was makes me chuckle.)
I wonder if I’ll ever see Bob again. I hope I get the chance. I google stalked him and I know where he’s living and who he’s married to. I don’t know what I’d say to him if I do get to see him, except maybe, “Thank you.” Thank you for not blowing my mind with the hot, hot sex our first time. Lowered expectations have certainly been a help. But also, I want to thank him for setting the bar for fun so incredibly high. He always made me want to jump off a cliff without knowing what’s below, and that’s something I’ve been missing the past few years. I just kind of hope I don’t break my hip. I’m a lot older than I used to be.
I know it’s bad form to point out the fact that your blog post has no focus and the ending doesn’t tie up the beginning. It’s the first rule of Fight Club, but god. I don’t know what I’m doing here and I have cramps. So, don’t fuck with me. Oops, I meant, don’t judge me. These pretzels are making me thirsty!