“I know better than to ever call you mine”
– FINNEAS –
The different ways to define a relationship these days are confusing as fuck. I’ve seen two people who act like an old married couple but don’t mind saying they’re just “seeing each other.” Sure, how people want to define their relationship is none of my fucking business. However, things can get complicated when the parties involved have different expectations for the love affair. It’s unfair for one person to be invested in the relationship while the other is still busy exploring their options. One can say that this problem can be avoided if you can communicate clearly with your partner. But God forbid we ever show our emotion as people these days get turned off the moment the “what are we?” talk comes along. Dating as a millennial is so fucked up.
As a side note, can somebody tell me the differences between “going steady,” “seeing each other,” “dating,” and “in a relationship”? And why do we feel the need to have these confusingly distinctive labels?
One week had passed since
my over the top reaction to my first gay crush’s message, and my family had finally left town. Although I was slightly saddened about my parents’ departure, I was ecstatic to dive right back into my whoring lifestyle. I mean… as lovely as the public bathroom floor was, I much prefer the comfort of my own bed. My first order of business was to schedule a meeting with my Andy Murray doppelgänger. Although I desperately wanted to expedite the progress of our relationship and move things straight to the bedroom, I was committed to taking things slow. So instead, I asked him what he’s up to for the following day, hoping that we could finally meet in person. I had always known that my boy had a deep affinity for craft beers (didn’t I tell you he’s perfect?!), so it’s no surprise that he suggested for us to meet at a brewery. Basically, it was my ideal first date because a cute guy and some beers are all I need in life.
I pulled up my car at the parking lot, and my crush notified me of the beer sampler he already ordered for me. I strolled into the room, and after a couple of minutes, I spotted a handsome man who looked like my online pen pal, casually standing at the bar waiting for his order. My heart pounded. My crush looked a lot better than his picture, sporting his loose burgundy tee and worn-out jeans. For the longest time, I had only consumed his beauty through my phone screen as our paths never crossed. Finally, there he was, standing a couple feet away from me in all of his glory. And my God, he looked fine as hell!
I felt like living in a trippy simulation when my crush gave me a warm hug because I couldn’t believe this was finally happening. We decided to sit down at the porch area for more privacy as the indoor space was pretty cramped. Even though we had known each other for over two years, our conversation felt slightly more awkward than expected. The beers certainly helped ease the nervousness, but neither of us really went deep (y’ all know how I like to go deep *wink*) with our stories. Basically, my boy told me stuff I had already known thanks to my extensive stalking of his social media activities. We ended our first “date” when he noticed my Asian glow, and I offered him a ride because he had a history with DUI. In any other situation, this would have been a major red flag. But that information came too late as I was already hypnotized by his defined abs. So I dismissed his tiny mishap like it was nothing and, instead, thought, “Oh, he’s a rebel? That’s hot!”
After my first in-person introduction to my crush, my days were filled with trying my hardest to fit into his lifestyle. There were days when I forced myself to butch it up and joined him during his basketball practice with twenty other homosexuals. Don’t get me wrong, I used to play basketball back in my closeted days because my dad wanted to turn me into an Asian Kobe Bryant. But I wasn’t even a good player back then, and my crush made me play against these gays who lived and breathed basketball. Watching me playing basketball with these hunky studs is like watching Groot fighting against Thanos’ squad solo. However, I wasn’t going to quit. With all my sweats, excellent acting, and limited basketball prowess combined, I was determined to get his balls on my face.
Although we often interacted in-person in many different settings, my crush still confused the hell out of me. Whether it was his reserved nature or lack of interest in me, my date’s intention with me was super unclear. Time and time again, I gave him not-so-discreet signs that my body was available to be exploited. Still, he always seemed hesitant to reciprocate my advances. Whether it was for dinner or convoluted sci-fi movies I couldn’t give two shits about, I was always the one to initiate the meeting. With that said, he was there for me whenever I needed him and gave me emotional support whenever needed. Did I think he was the one? No. Did I think our chemistry was super off the chart that I could not spend a day without looking at his smile? Absolutely not. However, I was a thirsty bitch who thrived on attention, and hard-earned attention is better than none.
It wasn’t until one night during Halloween week when things became crystal clear for us. I didn’t precisely remember the things that led up to our pivotal moment (maybe we were pumpkin carving? Idk). Yet somehow, that night, I ended up in his bedroom feeling slightly intoxicated. *So fucking random of me, I know*. His room didn’t exactly have “The Bachelor Fantasy Suite” qualities I was looking for. However, for someone who just moved to LA looking for a new career opportunity, I was impressed that he didn’t have to share a room with two complete strangers. My crush’s bedroom looked more like a college dorm with a twin-sized mattress and carpet cluttered with random inanimate objects. It definitely was not a sexy-looking room. Anyway, that’s not the prominent plot point of the story.
With the little amount of strength and the abundance of horniness I had, I couldn’t help but lay down on my back on his non-couple-friendly mattress. I attempted to make trite remarks about his room to make my lust less apparent. It was basically a vain attempt to make myself look more graceful. We both could sense the sexual tension in the air, but none of us dared to make the first move. It wasn’t until he sat at the edge of his inhumanely tiny bed and started gently caressing my right thigh that I knew shit was about to go down.
Feeling like my physical attraction to him was reciprocated, I invited my crush to lay next to me to give him easier access. His musky body odor mixed with the IPA beer’s pungent smell from his breath brought a tingling sensation to my sensitive area and intense hunger for his lips. The very moment his lips brushed over mine, a wave of euphoria rushed through my body. His soft lips, his rugged stubble, the way his body fitted mine – it was all perfect. I instinctively kissed him back, trying to match the overwhelming passion he poured all over my lips. His fingers began to make their way underneath my shirt, sending electrifying impulses to my bare skin. “This is it,” I thought, “it’s the moment I’ve waited two years for.” When our naked torsos intertwined, it felt like we’re living in a universe with a distorted sense of time and space. I was too overwhelmed by his flaming passion that, for a moment, nothing else crossed my mind. I was hypnotized.
But all of a sudden, he stopped whatever he was doing and pushed me away. I was puzzled.
“What’s wrong? Are you OK?” I concernedly asked my crush as my knees were on the floor while my fingers were gripping his plaid boxer.
“We needed to talk.”
An ancient proverb that, historically, never leads to a good thing.
“Sure, what’s up?” I asked as I positioned myself next to him because I didn’t want to stare directly at his genital during a heart-to-heart conversation.
“I don’t think this is a good idea. I really enjoy spending time with you, but at this point, I’m not really looking for a serious relationship. I’m sorry.” My crush unenthusiastically muttered as he kept his face down.
Do you remember that iconic VMA 2009 moment when Taylor Swift stood frozen as Kanye West interrupted her acceptance speech? For the longest time, I couldn’t understand how one could be so ambushed by a situation that the only thing one could do was standing still with their mouth wide open. But at that moment, I finally understood how Taylor felt that night. Because for the first time in my life, ladies and gentlemen, I felt truly lost at words.
To be continued…