(no subject)
Chapter 2 - The Show -
I took up smoking last year when I was in Kenya. While there I found myself away from the constricting bonds of my ex-boyfriend for the first time in nearly two years. I also found myself broke as all hell and on several instances at a bar. Due to my love of a good beer, I also found myself thirsty. Now when a pretty girl like myself finds herself in this situation there is only one thing she can do, find a man to buy her a drink. Being that I’d been out of practice for quite some time I really only knew one way to approach a potential drink buyer; “can I bum a cig?” Tonight is a night not so different from those nights, broke, at a bar, thirsty and I really need a fucking cig. It’s harder to find a good cig-bummer in this college bar sadly.
There are very few things I take pleasure in more than a smoky bar, cheep beer and stale air, its like heaven. Since the non-smoking ordinance passed it’s hard to find that anymore. Usually I like to go to the out-of-town bars, away from the college kids, spending Mommy and Daddy’s money on Malabo and cokes. There are two things that set me apart from everyone else here. First I’m spending my own money, and second I’m drinking a nice dark beer. I like to taste my beer; I am a Wisconsinite after all.
Regardless of the company in this place, it’s become one of my favorites spots. This is the bar Patrick and I came to. That night of course, I couldn’t have asked for better company.
I had promised to show him a good time in town. I gave him two choices. There was a run down townie bar about 3 blocks from my house. If we choose to go there we wouldn’t have to drive and more importantly could make it back to my house in minutes if the mood struck us. The negatives to this choice were the people in it: toothless, down-home rednecks that would play country music all night.
The other choice was Wisconsin Street, which was host to about 10 bars frequented by the college students in town. I had my favorites on the Street, but none of them were particularly good for conversation, and I still wanted to have some of that that night. The negative of this choice was that it was quite far away. We would have to drive, take a taxi back and in the morning wake up early so I could make it to my summer class and get my car.
I love my apartment, I really do. It was a hole when I moved in, but I’d fixed it up very well. The only problem is that it’s too far from the college part of town. We liked to call it the “student ghetto.” At the time that I signed the lease I was moving in with my ex boyfriend. We wanted a place in a more residential area, a real home, instead of student housing. Of course I left his ass before we even moved in. At first it was hard living alone in the house that we were supposed to share. After a while though, I started to feel like I had won a battle. I painted the walls, hung pictures made it mine. There is no part of him in this apartment. But I still wish it were closer to Wisconsin Street.
Patrick, being the problem solver he is decided that we would walk to Wisconsin Street. It’s about an hour walk but it was a nice night and I was more than willing to spend that time in quite conversation with Patrick. We set out after a few pre-game beers at my house, hoping to still have a good buzz when we got there. We were admittedly stumbling a bit on the way there, but Patrick’s strong arms held me up.
I had him stop when we reached Wisconsin Street so I could take my flip-flops off and put my come fuck me heels back on. I offered him several options of bars, giving brief descriptions of each and we agreed on a tavern with a reputation for having a pretty chill atmosphere and good music.
We got to the bar and I bought us a round of beers. He had paid for dinner and I knew that he was tight on money so I felt it was only right. I didn’t want him to think that I was needy or just looking for a sugar daddy, although it would be nice to have one. I had a real chance at him now, after all these years and I needed to prove to him that he belonged with me. That he always had. This was my chance to make a high school fantasy come true, and I wasn’t going to mess it up.
I suggested we head out to the smoke deck and we took a seat. He started talking but, as I had hoped, my buzz had lasted and his lips mesmerized me. I leaned closer to him and looked him in the eye.
“Hold on a second would you, I have to do something.” I said alluringly, and leaned in and kissed him. “Okay, what was it you were saying again.” He smiled.
“Get back here” he said playfully, wrapped his had around the back of neck, and kissed me again. I’ve never been a fan of public make-out sessions, but that night I didn’t care, I was so caught up in him that nothing could distract me. We were getting pretty into it when he pulled away to take a drink. His dog tags had fallen out of his shirt and I grabbed them to pull him back to me. I noticed they looked different then they had in the movies, the only place I had seen them before.
“Why do you have three?” I asked. He looked at me painfully.
“You don’t want to know.” he replied.
“Yes, I do!” I’d never taken well to people telling me what I want. “Just tell me, I can deal with it. Why do you have three?”
“The third one is in case I die.” He said looking me in the eye. I felt a sudden pain in my chest.
“Oh” I struggled. “You’re right, I didn’t want to know.” I admitted. I regained composure and followed, “Lets not talk about Iraq tonight, okay? Lets just be two normal people having a good night out and forget about it all for the night.” I smiled.
“That sounds perfect.” He smiled back.
We made our way back into the bar for another round. I noticed the way the other girls were looking at him and I loved it. I smiled to myself as I pranced by the guys who were looking at me the same way
In the course of about two hours we had gotten comfortable enough to hold hands. This is really important. Out little make out session earlier had been great, but you don’t have to love someone, or even like someone to make-out with them. However, holding hands in public THAT really means something.
We took a both while I shared the captivating story of how I had ended up dancing on this very table wearing pleather leggings as pants, a biker jacket, bright red platform heels and a curly platinum blond wig. It was Halloween and, regardless of my inability to find an acceptable Danny, I was Sandra Dee. I had practiced the walk for weeks and I was stunning. I ended up making out with a Scuba Diver, we may have had sex that night, but I don’t count him on my list because it was one of those where I honestly couldn’t tell if there was any actual intercourse. I left that part of the story when I told Patrick.
He hadn’t let go of my hand since leading me through the bar and he was now staring at my small delicate fingers entwined in his big strong hand. I had noticed when he showed up at my door that the Army had done amazing things for him. When he pulled me into his arms to give me a hello hug I amazed me that even his arms seemed stronger, when he kissed me hours earlier, I was happy to find that even his lips seemed stronger.
I cocked my head and looked at him questioningly. “What are you looking at?” He shook his head seeming dazed and after a moment smiled, that cocky smile and replied.
“If I compliment every part of your body all night are you going to be creeped out by it eventually?” I blushed in response, how could I not? I covered my face a bit with my hand to hide my giant toothy grin.
“Well, as long as you don’t compliment my feet, cause honestly they’re kind of ugly, I am more than okay with that.” I smiled, there was no hiding my grin anymore, and at least I could blame the blush on the alcohol.
“Okay, no feet. But I just realized that you have the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen.” He said and rubbed his rough thumb against mine. He took my hand to his lips and kissed my fingertips. I’ve had butterflies before, but nothing like this. I was intoxicated, with him that is, well maybe a little bit by the beer too, but mostly it was him.
Eventually we decided to head back to the smoke deck and before we knew it we were In the same position as before, oblivious to everybody else around, pretty literally wrapped up in each other. I got a feeling, like I was being watched and turned my head slightly to see a woman, older than us, wearing a tiara staring from the bench across from us.
“I think we have an audience,” I said into his mouth. He turned his head to the woman, smiled and nodded.
“That’s okay, I’m cool with an audience.” He mumbled as he brought his lips back to mine.
“I was just going to tell you guys to get a room, I can do that, since it’s my birthday!” slurred the woman.
I wished her a happy birthday and offered to buy her a drink, as I was headed up to the bar to get another round. I briefly explained the situation to her on the way, telling her that he was in the army and only in town for the night; that I’d been waiting for this for 6 years. We got our drinks and cheersed, to both of us. I liked this girl. Later on that night she recruited a few of her friends to watch us making out. We joked that we should lay a hat on the ground and accept tips. As I said, normally I would be uncomfortable with this, but not that night, that night I was in love.
Before I knew it, it was time for another drink, not that I really needed one but at that point in the night it didn’t really matter. It was late enough then that the bar was filling up and they were asking for ID’s at the bar.
“Who looks older?” He joked to the bartender, who just smiled and got us our drinks. I playfully slapped his arm; I knew he was making a jab at my age, although I was only a year and a few months older. “What!?!?” He exclaimed blocking himself from my attack, I was just wondering!” he smiled that smile that I love, cocky as all hell.
We made our way back to the smoke deck. At that point I was drunk enough to say some things that I had been scared to before.
“I’m going to be breaking a very big rule of mine tonight you know?” I said, slightly slurred.
“Oh yea? and what’s that?” he asked
“I never sleep with anyone I care about, not since Jake.” that was the truth. Jake was the ex-boyfriend I’ve mentioned. He and I dated for almost two years. We were going to get married and have a family some day. He had planned to propose the night we moved into our apartment, but as I’ve said he never moved in. I left him shortly after getting back to the states last year, but that’s a story for another time. I was in love with Jake. He was my first. Since him though… I’d been with 6 men, well I don’t know if I can really call any of them men. They all had one thing in common; I didn’t care about any of them. I didn’t want feelings to get involved because that’s how you get hurt. The fact that I was breaking this very strict rule of mine had bothered me since the day Patrick told me he was planning to visit. I had weighed to pros and the cons and decided it would be all right for it to happen. I still felt uncomfortable about it tough.
He looked uncomfortable by the statement “What do you mean? Why?” I explained to him exactly what I just explained. I didn’t get the reaction I thought I would. Of course I should have known that. In the 6 years I’d known him I never got the reaction I thought I would out of him. He nodded his head and kissed me, gently, sweetly. He looked up into my eyes seriously, with a furrowed brow, and took my hands into his.
“Well, I am very happy that my first, after Megan, will be someone who I care about so much, and who I have cared about for so long.” He kissed me again in that gentle way and I couldn’t help but smile. Any doubt that I was doing the right thing was completely erased at that time. I was in love with him and I would put myself on the line for that. It didn’t matter anymore that I could get hurt. I needed to do this, once and for all. I needed to give myself him, body and soul, and I would.
I’m not sure what time it was when we left the bar, before bar close for sure, because we found a cab easily. We climbed in and cuddled up in the back seat a bit. He told the cab driver he’d pay double if he could make it snappy. I’ve always had a thing for cocky guys; it gets me into trouble far to often. We got to my house in no time, probably because the driver wanted to get us out of his cab before cloths started coming off.
Tonight is not going to be like that night. Tonight the bar is full of frat boys, mamma’s boys, “gangstas,” and every other type of unfavorable man known to the world. My life has been a long line of exactly these type of men and it seems like tonight is quite possibly going to be the culmination 22 years of bad men.
My boys and were sitting out on the smoke deck. I’ve always gotten along better with men, oddly enough. My very best guy friend, Andy has kind of initiated me into his group. Most of them are bikers, of the crotch rocket variety. I owe very much to these boys, most importantly my recent epiphany that I look KILLER in a leather biker jacket, not that I’m wearing one now. No tonight I’m wearing a plain back tea shirt with a ripped open back. I love to show off my back. I’ve got on my come fuck me heals and a brand new pair of pants that makes my ass look amazing, and I mean amazing. A leather cuff and a black sparrow necklace complete my look. I could not look more badass right now. A fact the boys haven’t failed to mention. I’m constantly needing to remind them of the many many reasons I will never sleep with them. I know they don’t really mean it and they’re just poking fun but it does annoy me every once in a while.
They like to call themselves my big brothers. Tonight they’re not doing a job of it. On our way back into the bar I ran into an old friend. By that I mean an old make-out buddy of mine. We use to mess around a lot my freshman year. I really liked him but he told me we couldn’t date because I was too young. A few months later he started to date a playboy bunny wanna-be who was a whole three months older than me. They broke up every few months and he’d call me “to have coffee.”
I’ve gotten really good at reading men. “Lets meet for coffee” rarely, if ever, actually means they want to have coffee. Max, the man in question was insanely predictable. Within a half hour of his facebook status being changed I would get the call. Being that I actually do have a lot in common with him I would agree, also because watching this progression was amusing. The day would could that we were to meet and one of two things would happen. He would cancel because he had gotten back with that playboy bunny, or he would say “well… yeah… I guess, I mean we could do coffee, that’s an option…”
Too which I would replay, “Well did you have something else in mind?”
“Well… I dunno, we could. I don’t know… Like watch a movie or something.” I would smile.
“Sure, what’s playing?”
“Oh… uh… I dunno like, I have a bunch of movies at my place, we could watch one here.” I would agree and go to his house. He would make tea. I would sit on one of the couch hugging my knees pretending to be totally into the movie, and he would sit awkwardly on the other end and glace at me once in a while. I did everything I could to make it painfully awkward for him. I like to think of it as karma for the shit he’d pulled when I was younger.
I’d seen him around the bars before but usually just gave him a hug and walked off. I had no reason to think tonight would be different. He hugged me and we started to joke around, after a while I excused myself and let him know where we would be later. He was at the next bar too, I felt him before I saw him. By that I mean I felt his hand cupping my cooter, and then he was gone. This was not the last time I was sneak attacked by him. Later on I was standing at a table talking to a friend of mine when I found my whoha assaulted again. I looked up at him, wide eyed.
“You with this guy?” He asked as if he didn’t understand my stunned look.
“uh.. no…” was about all I could muster.
“Good. I would destroy you in bed, by the way.” and then he was gone. He texted me a few times throughout the rest of the night, telling me he wanted me to go home with him. That didn’t happen.
Apparently awkward Max had left the building. What really struck me was the way in which he propositioned me. What happened to the days of the love tap on the ass? Or even the full on ass grab? I miss those days. I can deal with my ass being touched, but the cootchie… that’s just not right. I like my cootchie and after tonight I’m honestly afraid to let her out in public! She shouldn’t be subjected to this.
And the pick up line?!? “Destroy you in bed?” Do men understand that just don’t even sound like fun. How would they like it if I went up to them and announced that I would mutilate their genitals? “I like to bit while giving head, by the way.” I mean a little pain can be fun, hair pulling, scratching, even a little light biting, but full out destruction? I would rather offer myself up as a guinea pig to gynecology students!
Later on I was told by a guy that I had punched in the face, at this very bar, a few weeks ago, that he had his cock pierced in two places and he would make me scream in such a way that I wouldn’t know if I was screaming for him to stop or keep going. Again with the violence. He also let me know that he used to have eight piercings in there but six fell out. I almost asked how… and more importantly where, but thought better of it.