decota

"What did you buy?" was the best I could come up with.
"I got a little shot of whiskey."
"HA! Wow we bought shots of Jagermeister!"
What a coincidence. We both bought shots! We're meant to be together! I'm serious. Those are the exact retarded thoughts that ran through my brain.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Leslie" and he told me his as we shook hands.
"You know I was actually on my way out, but can I buy you a beer?"
"Sure!" ABSOLUTELY.


I was all to eager to tell him about my blog and my book and that I was naked on the internet. I wanted so badly for him to think I was cool and I wanted him to be impressed with me. I wanted him to want me. When I said I was a writer, we began talking about books and Dan Brown and discussed the book/movie comparison. I told him about Christopher Moore. He told me he was a musician. We talked about music and I forgot all about my friends and that fact that I had to pee.

My bladder was near explosion when I finally told him I had to pee. I held it because I was terrified that if i want to the bathroom he wouldn't be there when I got back. When I came out of the bathroom he was still there, and a tall guy he introduced as his brother was now standing next to him saying he wanted to leave.
I was praying he'd ask me for my number or anything to make sure I'd see him again.
"Do you want another beer?"
"Sure!" He doesn't want to leave yet he wants to keep talking to me!


But then last call came and went and it was two a.m. and we were being funneled into the parking lot. My friends were waiting for me. I had kept an easy eye on them while I was talking to the Man and they didn't interfere except for Jersey who would throw a knowing and enthusiastic wink and raised eyebrow my way.

Now all six of us were in the parking lot.
"So we should all go back to my place! I've got beer and a huge deck with a fire pit, we could bust out the guitars and jam..."
Before he could really finish his list I said, "OK!"
My friends weren't so down. They were tired and they were really drunk and they also were not as adventurous as I was. They weren't so keen on drinking beers at a strangers house. They were also not so keen on me going alone to a strangers house to drink beers. I told them thanks for the concern but I was going with or without them. The dude in the group went up to the Man and said, completely out of character I might add since he can be such an asshole, "If anything happens to her..."
"Don't worry. You will be seeing her face on a milk carton," the Man interrupted.
He is sooo wonderful.

I got in the car with the Man. We drove the short trip up the 101 to his pad and sure enough he had a huge deck that looked at the Hollywood Hills and a fire pit and he opened up some beers for me, his brother and himself. Soon after the guitars came out. I told him I played ukulele and I could sing when we were at the bar.
"Alright rockstar." He handed me a guitar.
"I don't really know how to play this. I just play the last four strings... and like... ukulele chords. Its not..."
"Just do it. I'll follow you. It's cool, its just a jam."
"OK"
I began to play three simple ukulele chords and sang a little. It actually sounded pretty good. Which most things do when you're borderline wasted.
Some how the jam morphed into The Face's "Oh La La"
It was a perfect moment. The stars. The lights in the houses on the hills. The fire. Our voices perfectly harmonized.
My fingers started to hurt and eventually the song had to end and I needed a free hand to take a sip of my beer. I was so taken by the moment that had just passed I used my phone to take a few pictures of me and the man, then handed my phone to the Man's brother and asked him to take a picture or his brother might have offered. I can't remember Every detail.
His brother, what a saint in that moment. Told us to kiss.
And we kissed and it felt as though I had known his mouth forever. There was not a single ounce of awkwardness or unfamiliarity. It wasn't an overly sexual or passionate kiss. No tongue but the mouth was open and inviting. It was a kiss of total affection.
We played a few more drunken melodies, you can't always get what you want and kept drinking.

The sky began to lighten. It was nearing seven a.m.
Without a spoken invitation I walked with him down to his room and we slept in his bed together. We made out a little before we fell asleep.

I couldn't tell if he liked me that way or if he was just being nice. Common sense would say that if he bought me drinks, invited me over, kissed me twice and let me spend the night, he probably liked me! But he didn't make a bigger move on me when we were in bed. I always was under the impression that if a guy really likes you he will try to touch your vagina with either his hand, mouth or penis.
However, I really really liked him and I didn't want to fuck it up. So I didn't push anything sexual and neither did he.

The next day we laid in bed till about three in the afternoon, swapping stories and jokes in the blacked out cave he had created for himself. Our conversations felt like we'd been friends for a long time. Everything about him echoed a haunting familiarity that was so comforting and too good to be true. We had a similar sick and twisted sense of humor and the same interest in books and movies and music and TV shows. His room was littered with interesting literature and a line of guitars. His bed was the most comfortable thing I had ever slept on. I wanted to lay there for years.

A moment came where I needed to go. I didn't want to overstay my welcome and I had plans to meet my buddy for the Sunset Strip Music Festival. Rip-Chord was supposed to pick me up at three. My phone was off. I wasn't home. Rip was going to be pissed.

We slowly go out of bed, both of us clearly reluctant to go. We stepped out into the sobering afternoon light and walked to his car and I pointed us in the direction of my apartment close by. On the way over the Man said he was interested in meeting up at the festival. I was nothing less then happy to hear that.

Since I have a tendency to obsess and be a bit pushy when I really like a guy I though I'd better just give him my number. The car sat idle in front of my building.
"Give me your phone."
He handed it to me. "What are you doing?"
"I'm giving you my number and I don't want yours. If you like me you'll call. So I'll see you later on the Strip maybe?"
"Maybe. I don't know if I'll go yet."
We exchanged smiles. And a quick kiss. And goodbyes.

I plugged my phone in so it'd have enough juice to call Rip-Chord. I jumped in the shower to wash off my hangover and refresh incase I got to see the Man again. I quickly got dressed and got in touch with Rip, who thought I'd died! and I met him at the festival.

But I could barely enjoy myself at first. I was checking my phone constantly to see if the Man had called or texted. Half-way through the night I was drunk and disappointed and figured maybe I'd misread something or what if maybe he was playing it cool or , what If he didn't remember my name and he was scrolling through his phone not realizing which number was mine OR maybe I better stop over-anylyzing the whole thing and chill the fuck out! I got wasted and had a decent time and maybe to keep myself "cool" I rebelled a little bit, had a bit too much Jack Daniels and got a bit out of control. Either way his call never came that night, or the night after, or after that, or after that.