the easter bunny. april 24th, part 2.

that show was crazy. and we left from there, to go to the house for the most fun slumber party i might have ever thrown.

kim and pam showed up right as we were getting home.

the slumber party for kit almost didn't even happen. and, how awesome that it did...

kit had spent her birthday eve getting fancy. she got her hair done, bought a new coat, and looked killer.

she FELT like she looked killer. in the year and a half that i have known her, aside from star party stuff, i think that night the happiest that i have ever seen her.

i did it all. the cake. the ice cream sundaes. the candy. the gift bag. the sister birthday card that seemed more fitting than any other variety.

we drank. we played. roommate mike and his friend vishnu showed up, adding a layer of hilarity to the night.

i had face mask, and biore strips. we had quite the little party. it raged loudly until 3 am, when we were all too tired to be upright.

kit and i shared a bed, and the girls took the loft. kit was up in bed at 8. i woke up at 930 feeling ill. hungover. nervous. pukey. i got ready and drove kit to her car up in northern libs, and the girls and i went to get fancy.

i got a pedicure and opted for the manicure combo. i hadn't had one since 9th grade homecoming. and we got our eyebrows waxed after our nails were dry.

i left feeling saucy. happy. cracked out. it was an ultimate success and i had time to nap before kit was ready for her party, part two.

matthew was flaking on me. hard. i'd been sexting him in delaware. he made a comment that i'd better have bought him something pricey on my shopping day status update. i texted him, saying that i'd gotten something for him, alright. that pricey was debatable, and that he'd better rest up and hydrate, because i didn't yet know if i was mad or enchanted that he'd withheld sex from me. and that he's better show up good and ready. and when he responded, 'yes, ma'am' i about fell out of my chair, laughing.

so i was trying not to let it bother me, because the night wasn't about me. i'd spent too much money and had opted to eat at home before going out. i tried to nap, but couldn't. it's a theme lately.

so mike and i left a little late, and had yawning battles in the subway station. we missed our train because i took us up the wrong stairs to the el.

we made it eventually, and a lot of people were already there.

somehow it was stressful. i wasn't in charge of any of that party, and it seems like i have been choosing to have control over things in my life in a big way lately. i enjoy calling the shots. matthew has taken to calling me miss bossy, and i don't mind it.

we left from there to go to favorite bar. a big party of us, all taking the city bus in lieu of like five cabs.

we took up the first four rows of the bus. kit was uptight, and not enjoying herself fully at that point. i think the stress of organizing the event, paired with a boy letdown was getting to her. i thought i'd fix it by videotaping the front of the bus, when i started singing happy birthday to her.

our entire party joined, and i'm sure the bus was a little blown away. there was a stop in the middle of the song, with all these people boarding. i don't know. it seemed like the best option at the time. i'm not quite sure if it worked. but it was super fun, and i was happy that i thought to do it.

so we roll up to favorite bar, and i knew for certain that matthew wasn't coming. it had been hours. i knew he was sleeping. and i'd only had two beers to that point, without even achieving a buzz. as we walked in to sidecar, everyone was clapping and telling kit happy birthday. steve walked up with two shots in hand before we even had our coats off.

to keep kit safe, i'd promised her to drink any shots that were poured for her. my exact words were: 'i'll puke for you. you are not drinking liquor.'

so steve handed me the shot of tully. i've never done a shot of whiskey. and i probably never will again. the tully was smooth. don't get me wrong. but it burned like fire.

i was immediately hot and tipsy. and had already ordered a beer that i was less than thrilled with. so i drank it slow.

i had some alone time, smoking, talking to lauren. and some alone time with kit, smoking.

i went back in and checked my phone.

and almost fell out of my chair, part two.

joey texted me. he was having some friends over. he spelled my name wrong (the error being like marcy vs marty), calling me sweet thang. and saying i have to come over. he gave me his address right then.

and i looked at it. and started writing him back. saying that i was out for kit's birthday at favorite bar, which he already knew. and that i was officially drunk (stupid fucking whiskey). and that i would be happy to grab coffee with him the next day if he wanted. but i didn't send it.

what i wanted was advice. what i got was a table full of advice.

i explained how we'd had plans last sunday, and he had double booked himself and canceled with me. how earlier that day, he had called me. i was surprised to see that it was him calling, and answered hesitantly.

he'd explained that shit was fucked up. that he'd gotten a new slew of experiments to run, that his pi wasn't in favor of the paper he'd turned in. that he'd been asked to rewrite it again (draft six by then, draft nine by that night). that he was stressed.

i said something like, 'woah woah woah. dude. calm down. first of all, don't stress. everything is cool. hanging out is not stressful, and shouldn't be stressful. do science. and hit me up later this week to hang out.'

he said, 'but i really want to hang with you.'

and i said that i wanted to hang with him, too. but to knock his shit out, and don't stress about me. it will happen.

he felt really bad. and when i hung up with him, maybe because i talked to him, i told him to hit me up anytime. that we'd work something out. and to just knock his shit out.

i don't know.

i didn't have that awful feeling from last weekend. i had relief instead, i guess. because i was so fucking tired. that nap hadn't panned out, and i knew that by tomorrow, in light of matthew saying he was staying over that night, i'd be exhausted and ready to be alone and get some sleep.

i saw it as a way to open up my day, and take a day for myself like i should.

it was cool. disappointing? yes. but fine regardless.

so it was in that mindset that i dealt with matthew flaking. and again, wound up going, 'you know? i made plans with YOU. and i set time aside for YOU. and two of you are going to bail on me? are you serious?? what the fuck...

so when i saw the text asking me to come over, my mind bounced around. first, i was angry. what? you can't hang with me, but you can have an impromtu party instead? and invite me over to that?

then i thought, shit. he was SHAKING. he must be trying to find a way to have some kind of a group thing where i'm just a person there, not the only person there. bunny slope into the hangout.

so i was on the fence. not to mention, i had plans. and i was out. granted, i had said one beer. and was planning to go home after it. it just meant that i'd go to his home instead of mine.

and i cursed him, for not letting me prepare. i had a stacked ipod to share. i had beer for him. i had cigarettes. i had easter candy to share. and by texting me after midnight, he made it so that i'd have to go over, in contacts, and probably fall asleep in them.

but that was all background. because what i was most concerned about was, if this is a game, and i'm playing it, what are the fucking rules? why do there have to be rules? is it sad/pathetic/lame to be able to drop what i'm doing to go?

so a table of five helped me mull it over. i erased what i'd written to him. and they, at first, were on the side with me, originally. he broke plans and threw a party instead. that's kinda fucked up.

but after i explained the nervous hands from the day he came to talk to me at work, they started to see why i was contemplating going.

not to mention, in my mind, where things do happen for a reason, the fact that matthew had flaked on me, making this an option.

and then i sold them on the fact that i'd been so excited for this hang out that i'd take any incarnation i could get.

back to the easter bunny and zombie jesus thing. this is where i'll attempt to pull it all together:

all that i have faith in is that i have to take opportunities when they arise. and not worry about what might have been or what could be. i am actively working toward a place where i can just BE. in the moment. be here now. and i think daily about how much work it will take to accomplish that feat.

i delayed him while we debated. and said that i was at favorite bar and that i'd try to work some magic, but didn't know if i could pull it off.

and he texted me right back. 'pretty please with sucrose on top!!!'

and i was done for.

his brainy text sealed the deal. and i started to make my exit plan. put lauren in a cab back to her digs, told mike i was leaving, said goodbye to everyone. asked kit if she'd picked up the beer for me, which she hadn't. so i bought a mixed six pack there, and took off. i asked if he'd be willing to walk and meet me, or if he was too busy entertaining to do that.

he said he would. i stopped at 7-11 for a seltzer (i'm back on my old kick of seltzer water right now? i think because i drink so much more, i stay dehydrated, and cannot drink water) and a pack of smokes. because the ten i had at home weren't helping me, leaving the bar with a couple in my pack.

so i walked over to his place.

i was so nervous. it was not far, maybe six blocks. i told him to give me a five minute head start, and he told me to meet him on the corner where he was with his friends.

i saw him from a block away, all six feet, five inches of him. and his guy friend and girl friend were flanking his sides. he introduced them as his puerto rican friend, and his polish friend. they told me their names and went to get cigarettes. i was hoping that they were leaving, just to get him alone, but they weren't.

he hugged me and picked me up, swinging me around, telling me how happy he was that i made it. and i said 'maaaagic' while he spun me. kittens inspired style. i corrected him immediately about my name. and he said 'that's even better', and hugged me sideways, grabbing my arm, and then led me inside.

while they ran to the store, he showed me the rest of building he lives in. a library that was converted into an apartment, where he said we should spend some time hanging out (that night - we didn't end up doing that). another studio apartment. doubly wide staircases. all original woodwork.

it is just an incredible building. huge and airy. built in the 1800s, to be sure, in the fanciest neighborhood here (but not on the park). the highest ceilings, which says a lot coming from me. mine are ten feet, and these dwarfed mine. i'd say easily 18 foot ceilings, at a minimum.

huge built in bookshelves. pink subway tiled bathrooms. huge windows that ran floor to ceiling. it was overwhelming. all the apartments in the building are vacant. and all the doors are unlocked, so he has free reign over hanging out in them, and running around in them, and takes full advantage of it. only one other place in the building is rented out. to a little old hard drinking lady, and her little old husband on the first floor.

then we went into his place on the third floor, and this is when the night got interesting.

do not read that as bad. do not read that as alarming. just read it as 'not what i was expecting'...

so he's a scientist. and i imagined him living alone. which he does. and i knew from his address that his place would be awesome. and it was bigger than i thought. huge ceilings, huge windows with open blinds. a fantastic view of the city from his living room, a fire escape from his bedroom. he had a brown leather couch on one side of the room, a green vinyl chair circa 1972 (he took that - at the record player), and a mini futon chair (i took that). his pitbull (apple) was there. and his friends came back immediately and took the couch, which is where they had been camping out before i showed up.

but in a very unscience-like way, there were beer bottles everywhere, and cigarette butts in ashtrays on both tables. and ash everywhere. he smokes in his living room. so four of us smoking was stifling. the windows were open, but the cool breeze sweeping in didn't help much. he was out of smokes, and asked for one of mine. i put my pack between us, for the evening, telling him he could smoke all he wanted. he ripped the filters off of each one of my ultra lights, as he's a marlboro red kinda guy.

as a smoker, second hand smoke in an enclosed space really gets to me. i acclimated quickly when bars here banned smoking, and still sometimes go outside for smokes when i'm home and can smoke in bars.

but i was cool. it was just messy. dirty. his puppy was a crazy person who had covered every single square inch of his place in dog hair. again, something i'm used to from having a puppy who was a crazy person. but she running around and chewing things up, making us chase her when she'd get something she wasn't supposed to have off the table (you name it - his wood pipe, taryn's glass pipe, empty beer bottles) and ran under the kitchen table with it to chew and play. he chased her when he wasn't tending to records, and i babysat when he was.

i was a little overwhelmed. it reminded me of boys' places in tahoe. where the party never stopped and started, so he never had to clean up. his refrigerator was an abomination. his sink was piled with dishes that weren't specifically dirty, but weren't washed yet.

they all smoked pieces of bowls as the night wore on. i did not, because i'd been drinking. even though i really wanted to.

and we all talked.

he was running around the living room frantically, stopping on occasion to touch my shoulder and tell me to sit and relax. he was all about relaxing. said it like ten times, even though i told him i was relaxed. he was pulling records, setting up songs.

initially, he would stop the song after his favorite part. i kinda couldn't wrap my head around that, but let it slide after giving him shit about it. but eventually he did settle in a little. he was just so into all of it, telling me which he played on, which were friends, show stories. and dancing around and being his usual random self, sporadically blurting out lyrics in time.

and i guess a song or two in, it became records in the dark with friends. i was drinking a liter of seltzer, before my drunkenness faded to a slight buzz. i had two more slow beers sometime between 3 and 5am, i guess.

i wasted no time, sifting through his record collection, noting stuff i love, and appreciating the prettiest packaging. and he high fived me a few times when i commented on something near and dear to his musical heart, playing the stuff that was in pretty packaging, to show that they weren't empty promises. mono was probably my favorite new territory.

adrian knew my house, from the label. he hadn't been inside for a show, but said the label name when i said the corner i lived on, and i said, 'yeah. it's not there anymore. but that is my house.'

taryn totally blew my mind with zero degrees of separation, naming someone in a band that i actually knew. it was wild.

i had to pee about halfway into my seltzer. i didn't know the switch was outside the bathroom door, and fumbled in the dark, panicking when i couldn't find toilet paper. eventually i realized it was behind the curtain covering the window over his fire escape. and took the last three squares.

taryn went after me, and i told her i'd taken the last three squares, so she wouldn't get a surprise, and said that joey's was drip dry. which was just wrong to me. obviously, he doesn't poop at home, and doesn't have girls over often. which was some kind of a relief, as much as it was gross. no toilet paper is a big no no for me. i always check before i go at home. living with two boys who rarely use it has trained me to.

we stayed like that for a few hours, i guess. the four of us, listening to records. i took to calling him dj trainwreck when he reverted back to skipping around songs and dropping the needle in the wrong spot. switching genres violently. one of his favorites was a band of friends of his. so mathy he said you need a calculator to listen. it was one of the funniest things he said all night.

adrian left. taryn stayed a while. it was this situation that felt familiar from 19. one night i'd been hanging out with this boy i'd fucked around with, terence. and he had a girl over. but i didn't care, because his way hotter, way nicer friend azlan was also there. i was way more smitten with azlan, and didn't seem to notice that terence's girl's friend was, too. the three of us hung around a while, while the other two fucked around upstairs, breaking my heart a little. her name was candy. she was a whore, falling for the same line i had. it took about an hour before i realized that azlan was more into the other girl, and that i was the third wheel, not her. and i bailed.

apple woke up from a nap, wound up, and i forgot that she was a pit bull. playing with her meant that my arm became her chew toy. and i have scratches and a gnarly bruise on my arm to prove it. i ended that quickly.

i couldn't figure out if taryn was a friend or someone he was interested in. i only knew that she wasn't with adrian. and she wouldn't leave. ultimate clam jam.

i had to pee again, and said i wanted to go to buy some. he said he wanted to go with me, and taryn followed, despite stating that she was entirely too fucked up to be out and seen anywhere.

on our way down, we went into the library, because he said there's toilet paper in there sometimes. as luck would have it, there was. which was great, because i was at a critical point. i peed, taryn stole the roll after, and we went back up instead of heading to the store.

but instead of stopping at his door, we went up again, so he could show me the roof off the fourth floor apartment. the apartment itself made me long for $1500 a month to blow on it. the kitchen was 1960's era, with a kickass burgundy stove, and those flecked countertops that you see in old diners, lined with silver trim. it was a huge place, the windows were the best in the building. clear glass with molten awesomeness, like stained glass, only with clear glass filling out the design.

we went out onto the roof. we smoked. he sprawled out on what would be the skylights of his apartment bathroom. they were white, not clear, and joined with roof tar, as many in philadelphia buildings are.

the view was fucking mindblowing. i'd left my phone downstairs and kicked myself. being on top of a building in the center of the city within a few blocks of the liberty buildings, which were huge in my view (they're the spiky buildings in every photo of the phila skyline, for those who don't know), was so picturesque. and i missed opportunities.

it was around 4 i guess, and he was sprawled out. i pointed out that a middle button of his shirt was open. running with that, he started at the bottom and unbuttoned his shirt slowly and completely, while he sang a rap song in richard cheese lounge stylings. taryn took a picture and texted it to me then and there, saving me by name in her phone, noting me as 'cool girl', so she wouldn't delete it later.

we talked, finished cigarettes, his song was over, i explored the apartment there. saying i wish that it wasn't more than my mortgage. he said, 'you want to be neighbors? yay!'

i said, 'i wish.'

and meant it. though he'd be HORRIBLE to live above, with all the loud music and movies all hours of the night.

what i've learned in setting stuff up with him is that he works from about 4pm to midnight, when he goes in. he works from home when he writes. his night is getting started as mine is ending. boyfriend material, strike one.

while i'm on it, i'll cover the other strikes. two: he runs out of toilet paper. three: i'd spend time cleaning his place. a LOT of time. four: he self medicates with beer and weed. a LOT. the way he smokes (cigarettes like joints) makes me feel uncomfortable. five: i would inadvertantly get used. i'd foot the bill for shit when he goes through his stipend and comes up short a week before payday. six: his stipend runs out a week before payday. which means he doesn't budget.

i'll give the reasons why he is awesome for other things later in the post. those are the unflattering red flags. i am a smart girl, see? a changed person. who knows what she wants. and more specifically, what she does not.

so we went from the fourth floor back to his place with taryn in tow. and joey and i took to the couch, and started talking. he had his arm around me, and i took a cue and stretched my legs across him. he tickled my knees and touched my legs through my jeans. and i melted a little. i let myself get excited, because with her out of the picture, it was obvious that i was what was on his mind.

the thing that killed me about that night, which i told him, was that i had prepared for my night with him (the next night - the one he had canceled). i had beer, i had cigarettes, i had easter candy for his jewish ass. i had a movie to bring (darjeeling limited). i had my ipod and a short list of ground to cover with it. but, that's the beauty of not being prepared. i was in my skinny jeans and a tee shirt, with hidden furry boots underneath, which was not my plan. and came back to bite me later.

i guess my senses were dulled, because a while passed, talking science and goals and life stuff with him before i realized that taryn had disappeared. i said, 'wait. where's taryn? she didn't leave because she didn't say goodbye.'

and he said that she was probably passed out on his bed, because that happens sometimes when she gets fucked up over there.

we got up and stood in front of his laptop for a minute when he changed music, which was attached to both his speakers and his tv. and his paper was open on the screen, and he clicked on it. he sat on the futon chair and looked at it from there. it's a mac, and things on the bar were bouncing around. he got up to play something else, and i asked why so many icons were begging for his attention, and he opened his paper for me, which was one of the non-bouncing icons.

i asked if that was the paper that was paining him, and he said that he submitted three more drafts before deciding that draft nine was requiring a break. that he was too burnt to make it ten, and invited people over. and said he was so glad that i made it over.

he sat down after i read most of it, and edited it for him (spellcheck).

he came over, showing me his data, explaining what it was. and why it's so exciting to him. again. hot. i'm grateful kit has taught me enough to know what the fuck i was looking at, though it was brain activity instead of t cells and b cells in his tables. he moved to the couch while i read.

and i joined him, after finishing the whole thing. telling him i had no idea what it meant, but that schizophrenia is interesting to me, because of my psych background. we talked about what he's interested in, other than what he does. i asked if he'd ever studied dreams, or done sleep studies. he said not really, but that he's really interested in it.

i had to pee again, and said so, after about half an hour of alone talking time, where he blew my mind talking science. i asked him what he studied, what he's interested in. and he talked at length. science excites him. he loves what he does. i asked him how he ended up in phila as a phd student, from playing in bands in south florida.

and he said he was interested in neurology after getting a b.a. in philosophy, and wonder what happened in the brains of people who become paralyzed. he found a doctor who was the best in what he wanted to study and decided to apply for the spot. and got in.

his intelligence was a turn on. his dedication to science, and being a self starter as far as that goes cranked my desire to eleven.

i was hydrating, what can i say? i broke the seal. i took a break from getting to know him to pee. and that was where it ended, due to circumstance.

i went into his bathroom, to realize before i peed that the toilet paper hadn't made its way out of her purse. and came out, asking him from the bedroom where she was sleeping where it was. we decided it was in her purse. and she woke up with a start from our talking, and said, 'are you guys going to bed? you want me to go?'

to which i gracefully responded, 'no. i just need the toilet paper that is in your purse.'

so i got it. and peed. and when i came out, she was on the couch, after having grabbed another of the beers i brought. which mentally took me back to bbq's when i met conor. all the kids who show up empty-handed and take willingly.

she said, 'i'm going to drink this beer and have a smoke and then go home.'

and i squealed inside. and watched her drink slowly and smoke three cigarettes. he put on a movie after her second.

he said, 'tea. have you seen donny darko?'

and i said, 'no. but i want to.' because i thought it was johnny depp. but figured out quickly that i was confused. maggie gyllenhall made me think of that boy greg who never did message me. fleetingly. i had my eyes literally on the prize. joey sat between us on the couch. she left half an hour into the movie. he let her out, and i stretched out on his couch. he sat down, putting my legs across his lap. i told him to get comfortable. and so it was, that we spooned on the couch and watched the movie.

there was a part of the movie where he is in a shrink's office. and he said 'oh, my childhood. it was like that.' we talked about seeing shrinks for a minute. we both see them now. he's on meds that he didn't specify. and i didn't ask specifics about.

he said something about 1987. and i said, 'wait. what?'

and he said he's 25. coo coo cachoo.

i really thought he was kidding. pam, kim, and i had him pegged as being 30. 29 at the youngest. my mind was blown. i said, 'seriously? no way.'

and he said, 'yep... i'm twenty five' in his deep voice, slowly.

i said, 'holy fuck. do you know how old i am? how old do you think i am?'

he said, 'i don't know. twenty six?'

i laughed and said no.

he said, 'twenty five?'

i said, 'you're going the wrong way, sir.'

he guessed 29, before i said, 'i'm 33.'

he high fived me. again. and said, 'fuck yeah.'

which cracked me up. and he said, 'the last chick i dated was a 38 year old korean bartender.'

which did two things. it made me think, 'he is dating me, in his mind.' which was a relief.

and it made me think, 'is he going to refer to me as the german from now on?'

and curled up, his hands started to wander. first, around me. resting on my belly, full of a mix of bar food from kit's birthday party.

i'll revert here to chalk like description here. it's too good not to. soft porn for the masses. not at all ladylike. but, taking a note from that dog., i say 'i don't care if you don't treat me like a lady. just take me home and don't disobey me.'

prudes, cover your eyes. or just skip to the end and work your way up.

my arm was under him, so that my hand was in his hair. and i touched him as lightly as i could, head, hair, neck. and tracing his ears. he was squirming. it set me off.

in my mind, it was sealed. at least a makeout session, which was all i'd gone over hoping for, and expecting.

his hands wandered to other places that weren't nearly as pc. and i was a little surprised that he hadn't even tried to kiss me yet. i giggled, and my head backwards to kiss him.

and kissing him. holy fuck it was good. very passionate. different from the other boys i've kissed. he has a crazy beard, for starters.

after a minute of craning my neck, we were facing each other, wriggling and squirming. and that is when the skinny jeans came back to bite me in the ass.

it was some kind of struggle to get out of them. clothes were being tossed on the floor quickly. making out ensued. and then we were naked, about halfway through the movie. and in my ear, he said 'i want to tear you apart.'

it did things to me. god, it was hot. and i said, 'wrap it up, (last name). let's go.'

and he was a little thrown off by it.

how it is that these boys don't give a fuck about who they're sticking their penises into, whether they could become fathers as a result, just blows my fucking mind.

i've talked to my friends enough about it to know that if i want to know i'm protected, it's all about my preparedness.

and he was no exception.

don't get me wrong. i know that fucking without a layer of inconvenience in the heat of the moment could very well be what creates my blockade. but i will not risk it. i'm not on birth control specifically to keep myself honest. specifically to force myself to be careful. because the boys throw caution to the wind.

anyways, he got up to do as i said, and on his way out of the room said, 'i'm clean if that's what you're worried about', but he was back as i said, 'no. that's not it.'

and i wasted no more time trying to talk logistics.

and taking a note from matthew, asking why i got divorced while our bodies were locked, this one said, 'i have wanted to do this since i met you two years ago.'

and i said, 'i know. me, too.'

and he asked why i didn't do anything, and i said because i couldn't. without explaining. that talk will come on the second date, as it did with matthew. so as to set the record straight. and so as to not mince words about what i'm looking for with him.

and he made a joke about letting the girls handle it for me. and i laughed, and then it was 45 minutes or maybe an hour of exhibitionist fucking. because of his windows. and because the sun was coming up while we got down. anyone who was awake and looking out their window across the street would have caught so much more than an eyeful.

it was incredible. it was so good. he is fantastic. i studied him closely. kissed him at all the right times. it was amazing.

at one point, maybe half an hour in, he apologized.

i asked why on earth he would be apologizing. he said it was because of that pesky layer, and i said that it was better than fine. i was in no rush.

and somehow i missed the part where he finished. i was just moving around, because i needed to, and when he thanked me, i realized that he had finished.

i was in no physical condition to get off. so it didn't bother me at all. i asked him, and he said yes. i asked how i had missed it. and he said that medication makes things difficult for him, but that i'd managed to make that not a problem. and we high fived. again. which just proved to me how perfect he is, as far as fuck buddies go. if you can't high five after a good fuck, then what the shit is the point of doing it at all?

he told me he liked the way i'm put together as he moved to the futon chair. i stretched out on the couch in my underwear to finish the movie we'd taken a giant break from.

he made a noise of approval. i said, 'you should be proud. this is the first time i've worn this brand new underwear.'

somehow i figured out what i'd missed with the movie, and he complimented me, saying that all i'd missed was the stuff that explained the beginning and the end to stupid people. that i was smart for knowing what i'd missed. and that i'd seen what i came to see, and missed the fluff.

we smoked like that, and the movie ended. and i followed him to his bed. he said, 'and now you have to go to work?'

i said no, that i'm off weekends. but that if he was kicking me out to sleep, i'd understand. he said no way, and pulled back the covers.

apple had destroyed the lone partial roll of toilet paper at some point after the last time i peed. there was toilet paper confetti covering his bed and floor completely. i said it looked like a fucking parade, and went to pee. he handed me a small pile of the biggest collective pieces.

and he curled up with me. it was 7. and i feared that i wouldn't sleep at all. but underestimated the dull effect of marathon drinking for twelve hours. and being completely physically exhausted from fucking.

he said, 'sorry. apple ate my pillows. i just have a blanket that i use, and it smells like dog.'

there was pillow stuffing to prove his story, and i didn't mind that the blanket smelled like her. it reminded me of the years i spent with a marital bed that always smelled like puppy daughter. and because he put his arm under me and cradled my head, there was nothing offensive or uncomfortable about it.

i told him it was funny. i said, 'i see that. and i like it.'

and i meant it. dog lovers will understand. the rest of you can't. it felt like home, in a way. an old comfortable, familiar home.

i laid there, and took two pictures of his bedroom door to the fire escape in the sunrise after he fell asleep. and shortly thereafter, i fell asleep, and slept so well i shocked myself. but woke up with a start at 947 am, and knew that it was over. the night was over. the morning was over. and i knew that if i didn't get up then, i'd have a coffee migraine within the hour. and that i'd slept with my contacts in and had to get them out of my eyes.

i felt pickled, despite sharing mugs of water with him during and after sex and before sleep. and i kissed his neck to see if i could stir him. and he sighed and said hi, but wasn't budging. i got dressed and gathered my things while he slept, and went in. i bent over him, and kissed his neck, telling him in a whisper that i had to go. that i hated to leave, and wished i could stay, but that i had to go home.

i don't remember parting words, was glad i remembered my phone i'd left charging before the sex. and in caregiver fashion, put not one, but two, cigarettes on his record player and let myself out. texting him from the street to tell him they were there, and that my lighter must be, too, because i walked for about ten blocks before finding a guy who had a lighter.

it was my first walk of shame.

and as matthew said to me, after that first night, 'there was no shame in that.'

i felt disgusting, physically. i was sweaty and dirty. i was sleep deprived from getting a total of 6 hours of sleep over the past 72. i didn't want to be in my clothes from the night before, but had no options. they were smoke soaked.

it was steamy hot. the high was to be 80, but at 65, it felt like it was in the eighties. because i'd left for the party at night, i had no sunglasses, and the sun was beaming. and my eyes were particularly sensitive because my contacts were glued to them from sleeping in them. i was carrying my coat and my scarf, a telltale sign of the morning after walk home. with an unlit cigarette hanging out of my mouth, in search of a source of flame. and my hair was wild, due to a lack of a ponytail holder to keep it on lockdown.

a cop passed me more than once, and i wondered each time if i looked suspicious enough to be stopped and accused of looking like a hooker walking home after a rough night.

i knew i didn't really. i think it was my mind's way of hashing out the stuff in my head. it was a paranoid fleeting thought.

kit happened to text me as i walked within three blocks of her house, looking for a cab or a city bus, whichever came first. she reminded me that buses are impossible on sundays, much less easter sundays. and i had a smoke with her, while she talked about what happened after i left her party for joey's. and i told her a very abbreviated story of what i'd done. and walked her to favorite bar brunch on my way home.

i saw two cabs, both with customers in them. and the bus rolled past me exactly at the stop where i'd have gotten off to go home.

i'd smoked three cigarettes on the way. not because i wanted them, but because one got me out of my old neighborhood, one got me through the hood, and one because i'd be done and home after it.

i have never felt so tired and hungover and gross as i did right then. it took a momentus amount of effort to just pick pajamas and get everything into the bathroom that i needed to shower and neti and get into bed.

i felt great after my shower, giddy from telling kim and pam that i'd gone over. because the last they'd heard was that he'd canceled. they were more floored than i was that i'd had sex with him.

pam called me a whore, because that's what she does. and kim said, 'fly little bird fly' after i thanked her for being the reason i was there in the first place, and thanked her for looking out for my vag.

also something that we say to each other regularly.

i fucking LOVE those girls.

it will be interesting to see when joey shows his face next. and what he says to them, how they react to him, and if i'm there, what the fuck will even HAPPEN.

as i climbed into bed, poor matthew texted me 'brunch or no?'

and i had a mix of feelings about it. how his one stupid flake out resulted in him sharing me with another boy. how i owed him almost as much gratitude as the girls, for buttering joey up for me. i owed him for letting me cash in.

and i said i couldn't, that i was going to sleep because i'd had three hours the night before and was too tired. told him to hit me up at night, if he wanted to.

i passed out. i actually napped. and i woke up feeling fantastic, which NEVER happens. i wrote and laid in bed and watched the end of the movie.

i talked to my parents for an hour last night. not realizing until it was too late that joey had called me while i was on the phone with them. that's what i get for not being rude and making them hold while i scoped it out.

while i was sleeping, he'd sent a text that simply said, 'thanks for the smokes and the good times.'

what a gentleman.

we went back and forth a bit, he apologized for not having coffee to make for me. and i blubbered about all the reasons i left. and told him next time, he's coming over to enjoy my deck and my music. and time passed. and he randomly texted me, 'yesterday was pretty awesome.'

which is still making me smile.

and i busted his chops, 'see? and you were gonna wait another whole week. pshaw.'

when i saw he called an hour afterwards, i texted him, but he didn't call me back.

i didn't hear from matthew until this afternoon, when i texted him about the wedding.

it's a night wedding. so i'm not going to be his date. i told him that if it was anyone other than my favorite band, i would sell my tickets. but that i can't miss the show.

and when he responded that he had his feelers out for my understudy, i both laughed and felt awesome. i was his first choice. and he took it like a champ.

good things, all the way around.

i ate two sandwiches at work today. a club first, a mozzarella pesto melted flatbread second.

and now? nachos. and birthday cake. with beer.

it's not easy being a rockstar. scary skinny tea says i'm allowed. in fact, she needs it. she's a demanding little bitch, that one. and right now? she's FULL.

i smoked another pack of cigarettes in a day for the second day in a row during the second half of birthday festivities combined with joey night. and vowed to change my ways.

i spent two days in a row drinking incessantly - endurance drinking, where i didn't even have a buzz for the majority of the time i was imbibing. for ten or more hours at a time. also not okay. feeling pickled makes me want to check into a rehab center. but not every weekend is a birthday weekend, so i'm letting this one slide. there just can't be more in my near future. i don't want to be pickled again until nina is here with me.

i write, from beer number three. saying as it's midnight, and i had the first one at 6, i am fine with it.

what an insane weekend. so much fun on friday. disappointment and frustration on saturday. until accomplishing joey. and then that aftermath. sorting it all out in my head, and finally having a fucking night to write it all out.

kit pointed it out to me yesterday: the way i feel about seeing more than one person at once is uncomfortable to me, because i feel like i have to pick one. to choose. to make some kind of a choice.

and the beauty of dating is that you don't have to choose at all. you can choose who you spend more time with, sure. and that is based on who you want to see more. but that's not a definitive choice. it might change daily. one person's time might be more limited than someone else's. for me, that factors in greatly.

but i don't have to figure out who i want to spend time with. because, as i told joey when he called and we talked, when he canceled, 'i like to fly by the seat of my pants.'

if i'm available, maybe. if i'm tired, no way. and if i'm with someone else, the decision has already been made. pretty soon it will be second nature, and won't cause me anguish and heartache. the fear of making the wrong decision. always wanting something more or something different, or something better.

i am so fucking glad to have the day off from work tomorrow to get shit done at the house.

i can't wait until i'm on the other side of tomorrow. with a big push toward having so much shit done before my family gets here. aubree starts her internship in two weeks. it's blowing my mind. she should be here in the next ten days.

back to boys. of course...

it's funny. matthew did me a huge favor by flaking on me. because now i sorted out something (joey) that would have continued to stress me out until we finally met up. and now my mind is free from worry, because the list he is at the top of is very different from the one that scares the piss out of me.

maybe matthew will be my boyfriend after i fuck my way through a pile of dudes. if he puts up with it. if he decides i'm worth it, and i get it out of my system.

and in the meantime, when joey asks me to hang out with him, i'm all over it. because he's chalk grade fucking. with the same set of mental pathways on my end. there's no draw to care about him as more than a friend. no squishy feelings. just wanting more of saturday night, that was actually completely sunday morning.

i'm categorizing. i'm boxing boys into their nifty little cubbies. like an assembly line. a slow moving, sparse one. i keep waiting for the hopper to drop the next boy down to me, where i'm waiting at the end of the line.

next... shuffle... sort... next....

and because this weekend is now open without the wedding on the horizon, i'm going to text sam about a hangout. finally. actually, i stopped typing to do it. now i will wait and see what he says.

another 25 year old. now that my feet are all wet...

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