Punch it and fly

So. The follow-up to last entry. It’s long.

———————————-

So when I went over to her apartment (around 3am), we hung out and talked for a while, I asked her lots of questions like I usually do to girls when I’m trying to figure out if I like them. It’s a good method. There were plenty of girls in college I thought were cute and maybe interesting that got weeded out during the Q & A phase.

She is a different type, and looked damn good out of her fast food outfit. She has great straight, dark hair that’s usually pinned up under her Taco Bell hat. She was wearing a red tanktop with some words on it, and soft black skin-tight thin fleeceish pajama bottoms. I don’t know the names of materials. Her teeth barely bothered me at all, in fact pretty much not at all. Anyway, I say “different” because she had tattoos on her back and a pierced tongue and naval. I quickly mouse-drew a picture of her tats and pasted them onto some other girl’s back so you guys could get an idea. I used paint to draw them, so you have to use your imagination. For example, “DEVIANT” is in fancy tattoo letters, not Times New Roman.

I didn’t really mind her tattoos, which is uncommon, I usually hate most all tattoos, especially large, unsubtle ones. It’s a possibility that her shapely backside softened the blow, but I usually trust myself to see past things like that. Plus, the back is not a terrible place to have one, everything could fit nicely under clothes if necessary. She was courteous enough to ask if I was religious before she pulled up her shirt. The upside-down cross seemed out of place. She didn’t seem to be vehemently anti-religion, and wasn’t all about satan or anything. She seemed to be indifferent and tired of hearing about it, same as me.

Oh, and… “different” also because almost all the music she listens to is metal. Like, hard guitar rifts and fast drums and deep-throat screaming. And… wait… she also listens to it to go to sleep. She finds it soothing. Now, don’t get me wrong, metal certainly isn’t my least favorite genre. While it may not be my go-to choice, on the whole, I really don’t mind it. And I didn’t mind that she liked it, and was really all about it, but I’ll get to why later.

Anyway, the whole time we were talking, well… not the whole time, but intermittently, she would put her hands on my leg, or on my hands (once when telling me a story about an old guy that hit on her in the store), and she sat next to me nearly cheek to cheek when I showed her the pictures from my phone. I asked her about her day off, and she told me how she had to pack all of her friends in on that one day, and that none of them stayed up late enough to hang out with her after work. If you’ll remember, this is in direct contradiction to what she said before about “sitting in her apartment all by herself.” I took these to be signals, but not serious ones, and I wasn’t all that concerned with it.

When explaining her musical tastes, she showed me some DVDs of shows she liked to go to, and she seemed to know when it was comically dramatic, and laughed with me (first even, because I was trying not to laugh, at first), and at one point covered my eyes and said don’t watch he’s too goofy here, and you won’t hear the music because you’ll be laughing. She seemed to like it for what it was, and saw the image that a lot of those bands give off as ridiculous as I did. That’s why I could respect her tastes. Like someone who likes country music but thinks it’s retarded how they’re always wearing those fucking cowboy hats. But I pretty much hate country, whereas much metal isn’t too far away from things I like.

Early on in the conversation, I asked her what time she usually went to bed because I didn’t want to keep her up and overstay. She said “I’ll let you know if I’m getting tired and want you to leave, I’m blunt, I don’t have any problems with that.” So I took her word for it.

Anyway, so I thought things were going well, we had both given each other some decent laughs with random stories from our past or passing comments. We had discussed the finer art of sarcasm, and largely agreed on major points. Like how nice it is to have someone else there to know you’re being sarcastic when the unwitting third party is taking you seriously. It just makes it funnier, and funnier longer.

So the sun had come up by now, and she invited me to see how effective her blackout curtains were in her room (which was pretty effective by the way, but that’s not important). So we’re both sitting on her bed and continuing our conversation and in a few minutes we’re both laying. The conversation gets to a pausing point, and she says to me, “Would you like a back massage?” I say, “I don’t think you could’ve asked me a better question.” So she gives the full-on, straddle-my-backside deal, and is pretty good.

So I figure if anything is a signal, that was. So she’s still sitting up after massaging me and I’m laying down on my back and have her hands in mine, and I give her a gentle tug to pull her down next to me. It’s a smooth, subtle, but obvious move. Instead of it going as planned and being in better position for a moment, I’m met with the resistance of her pulling me up to sitting next to her. Now I wasn’t too discouraged by this, but figured I needed to maybe regroup for assessment and see if I can figure out what went on.

So we continue talking about various things, and move into a position where we’re both laying down facing each other (still on her bed) and she starts talking at a really quiet personal volume, without really any transition. We’re closer than we were before, and I begin to stroke her face (she has a really nice jawline and soft skin) and she didn’t flinch away or complain, or any of those things that girls who aren’t interested in you should really be doing by that point. So I put the tips of my fingers underneath her chin and gently lifted, in another subtle yet blatant move, and again met with resistance. At this point, I pretty much resigned trying, but wasn’t all that pissed off, just confused. We talked for a little longer, one notable exchange being when she looked closely at my eyes and told me I had eyes like Jeffrey Dahmer (a cannibal serial killer, if you don’t know who that is). Of course, my reaction was “What!?!” She said, “No, no, it’s a compliment. He had passionate, intense eyes.” “Yeah,” I said, “but there was this one thing he was into doing… with the killing… and the eating…. you know.” “But he just didn’t understand,” she said, “He did it because he wanted to be with them forever. It was sweet, in a way. And his eyes were so intense.” I said, “I usually paid more attention to the mouth and the digestive tract. But if you meant it as a compliment, thanks, I guess.” I don’t really know what to think of that.

And it got more confusing. She said she was going to go take a shower, since she hadn’t since she got off work, and asked if I was going to hang around. Seizing an opportunity for information, I said “Do you want me to wait around?” She said, “What do you want to do?” which gave me nothing. I was considering leaving anyway and I hate wai

ting, so I asked how long it would take. She promised less than ten minutes, and so I was coerced into staying.

After she got out, she was laying next to me again and told me how her tattoo itched really bad (she just got it two weeks ago) and how she couldn’t reach it to put lotion on it. I sighed and said “Would you like me to?” She didn’t answer, but sat up and took her shirt off (facing away) and handed me the lotion. So I was rubbing lotion all over this girl’s back, and pretty much dumbfounded about what to make of it all. I mean, I suppose that it was functional, but it’s pretty personal too. She has a nice back, though, so I tried to at least enjoy that.

Now here is where I think I might’ve misplayed, but I don’t really regret it. We’ve laid back down, she’s under the covers and I’m not. I straight-up asked her in a matter-of-fact voice, “What do you want?” She answered “What do I want with what? That’s a broad question.” Now I’m seriously irritated. I hate that lame question-dodging bullshit so much. She knew damn well what I was asking about. I considered leaving again, but I figure that maybe I can get an answer out of this. I said “What do you want with me?” which is pretty much about as direct as I can get. I know this routine, and I could’ve told you what she was going to say next. “What do you want with me?” she asked. “We’ll get to that.” I said, “You should answer my question.” “I don’t know, nothing.” she said. “Then what am I doing here?” I asked, again knowing the response and already knowing my reply. “What are you doing here?” she asked, but in an asking sort of way, not a way that I was supposed to infer a meaning by the fact that she said it. I said, “You haven’t asked me to leave.” So then I was where I was trying to get to in order to get an answer. Her answer? “You’re right, I haven’t.” And she smiled.

Seriously, what the fuck?

So then she turned over and said “Are you comfortable?” Speaking from a mental standpoint I said, “No, not particularly.” She said, “Well, then get comfortable.” I said, “How comfortable?” She laughed and said, “Do what you need to do.” and closed her eyes. So I got under the covers and put my around over her. We talked a little more and then went to sleep.

And I wasn’t as pissed off anymore, because I had to admit, having a tiny cute little girl as a body pillow is way better than sleeping alone in my own less comfortable bed. In the morning, I stayed for a little bit while she puts on her makeup, and then headed out to catch my spanish soap opera (I don’t tell her that). She had to work soon anyway. She had mentioned earlier about seeing me on her day off (Thursday) so I asked her if she still wants to. She said yes, and that I should call her. I said that she should call me, because she had more plans to work around and I wasn’t really doing anything. She said ok. She gave me one of those half-hugs goodbye, and I left and had a much-needed cigarette because I had never in my life been more confused about what a girl wanted from me.

What kind of a girl lets me spend the night with her, but won’t let me kiss her?

I spent most of the rest of the day pissed off because I realized why I was thinking that it was a bad idea to begin with. It dug up a lot of the buried starvation-for-affection that I’d had, and really didn’t do much to satisfy it. I wasn’t really all that bummed that nothing happened, I wasn’t really all that into her, as much as I was just pissed off that I lowered my standards and got myself into something for no good reason. It’s been almost three months since anyone even touched me, maybe six since I’ve had sex, and a year and a half since I’ve had a serious relationship, so it made me feel shitty. I got over feeling shitty, but couldn’t get the metaphorical bad taste out of my mouth. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not disappointed because I wanted her to put out, I just wasn’t in the mood for bullshit, and especially bullshit that toys with things I’ve done a damn good job ignoring.

I wasn’t surprised at all when she didn’t call, and I haven’t been back in to Taco Bell yet. It’s partly because my flatmates have been gone since Thursday morning and I don’t like eating out alone, and also partly because I don’t want to have to deal with Valentine’s Day awkwardness. I still wouldn’t mind incorporating her as an experimental crew-expansion, because she was pretty funny some of the time, and didn’t seem to care about things, and seemed smart. Those are really the three most important attributes for fitting in with most of my groups.

Ignoring my instinct due to lack of foundation really bit me in the ass. It almost throws a wrench into my unwavering approach of always doing the most logical thing, but I think really the lesson here is that I shouldn’t forget things.

Any insight as to what actually went on is appreciated. Everyone I’ve run it by seems to have a different opinion or is just as confused as me.

———————————-

Having noticed that I lost a bit of my college-gym physique, I started making use of my complex’s weight room. Despite being strenuous, I find it relaxing, and enjoy coming home and taking a shower afterwards and lazing around. When we got to the apartment, our electricity and gas was still left on. I called the electric company and got a transfer of service, but the gas company was closed on the weekend. I forgot to call them for a while, and then when I remembered to, their number was busy. After a while and not getting any bills in the mail (we still get plenty of mail from the former residents), I considered the possibility that there might be a mistake, and we might be geting free gas. After the two month mark, I thought we were home-free. We have a gas fireplace (as you can see from the pictures), and it was so much fun to say things like “Hey, turn on the free fire.”

I found out the hard way that it couldn’t last forever. Back from working out and needing a shower before I went out for the evening, I fucking froze. I knew what it had to be, and I saw the pilot light was out. Damn. It was fun while it lasted.

Showers this past weekend have been a test of will. I don’t really mind them as much as you’d think I would. I see it more as an epic struggle. I also keep forgetting to call right until I’m about to shower. But it’s time, and I’m calling them today.

———————————-

Everything I thought I knew about signals and girls is just completly out the window now. Andy was trying to ask my opinion the other day on what something this girl was doing to him meant. And I said, “Well… a week ago I would’ve confidently said that it was an indication of something. Now, I have no fucking clue. Everything I thought I knew has been proven wrong.”

I would definately say the whole Shera incident negatively affected my motivation to actually mess around with girls, or give ones who hit on me a decent response. I just find it’s something that’s tougher and tougher to want, and when I tried to drop my standards and have some fun, it just didn’t turn out golden.

I’m not bitter or closed-off or anything silly like that, I just don’t care that much about companionship and it’s being a whole lot of trouble to get worry-free.

I realized this year that I’ve never had a girlfriend or girl I’m seeing

or even anyone I’m interested in on a Valentines Day. I think I’ve had three major relationships end in January. I swear it’s not on purpose.

———————————-

I’ve been on a driving-alone kick since I got here. I really like loud music and going fast up the interstate north through the casinos. There’s a great backroad leading into/out of my apartment complex and it’s perfect to put on the right song light up a cig and fucking punch it. Sprawling suburbs on my right, the strip on my left, and I’m fucking flying. It’s worth every penny.