“I want you” is what the text would always read and those words still to this day linger in my mind.
No one has ever “wanted” me. Matt would always send me texts late at night. That text was always my golden ticket. When he called, I stopped what I was doing, jumped up, and went after him like a desperate naive love struck school girl. It was practically like dialing 911 and I ran after him like he broke his leg. “Hey, I’m really horny tonight. Can you help me out?”
I always rejected his advances because I wanted to stay true to my celibacy at the time. It was going on almost 3 years since I had dated or had sex with a guy or even kissed a guy. I hadn’t been with anyone since my boyfriend in college, Morris, dumped me. I promised myself to remain celibate until I found someone whom I loved and loved me in return. I was tired of being used and cheated on, and had almost swore off men in all. It was an honorable goal, but, quite frankly, it was making me a bit desperate. I wanted a boyfriend more than anything else. I was tired of being alone.
It seemed as if every area was a golden sex spot to Matt. Bathrooms seemed to be his favorite spot and once he even asked if I would have sex with him on the bathroom floor (EW!) of a middle school. I politely declined every time. Not that I didn’t want to have sex with him because I did, but because I didn’t want my first time with him to be on the bathroom floor of an middle school.
“You know, guys get blue balls when they’re really horny and it hurts.”
He told me this in the hall of the middle school, a school we took showers at at night near by the place we volunteered at, after I rejected his advances to go down on him.
“You know why I can’t…”, I said. I thought about it long and hard and, trust me, in that moment, there was nothing I would have loved more than to taste Matt in my mouth. But, despite how much I wanted to, I knew I couldn’t or else I would hate myself. “What if he turns out to be just like Morris or Raul?”, I thought.
“Trying to guilt trip me into going down on you isn’t going to work,” is what I wanted to say.
So, since we couldn’t have sex, it was always either dry humping or fingering, and lots of kissing. But our best moments were on couches. The couch in Iowa had its romantic moments and the couch in New Orleans had its sexual moments. To be honest, when I first laid eyes on Matt, I instantly didn’t bother to notice him because, well, he was fat and, despite how shallow it may sound, that’s about my number rule when it comes to dating: No fat guys. But that suddenly changed. I fell in love with this fat guy and his personality; How he would make me laugh and, most of all, his kindness. I’m a real sucker for nice guys, unfortunately.
I suppose, the way I started this story, you’re thinking: “Well, if you’re tired of being used and cheated on, it seems like a red flag to stay away from Matt, dumbass.” You probably are intelligent and I probably am a dumbass, but you don’t know Matt like I know Matt or at least how I thought I knew Matt. Matt was the team punching bag. He had the reputation of being the “nice guy”. I had known him for almost a year and he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He was my teammate, my friend, and my lover.
Our first kiss was on the couch in Iowa. The couch in Iowa will always hold dear memories for me. It was late, late at night. In fact, it was so late we watched the Late, Late Show with Craig Ferguson on t.v. It was Matt’s favorite show. We were the only two people awake and we sat spaced apart from each other on the couch. At that moment, we were still just teammates. We were friends then and we hadn’t yet hated each other. You could just feel the chemistry and we hadn’t even touched each other. We just sat there in silence. We sat there so long, the Late, Late show ended and even later shows came on. Every now and then we would inch closer to one another, but we both were still too shy to say a word. But we felt everything.
We stayed there until 5 o’clock in the morning. And Matt began to complain about how late it was. I didn’t want him to leave though and I don’t think he wanted to leave either because no matter how much he complained, he still sat there next to me, finding every little excuse to touch me (tapping on my shoulder to tell me something, etc). He started talking about something stupid and random and mentioned how he was Irish.
“I’m Irish. You’re supposed to hug the Irish.”
I laughed, “I thought you were supposed to kiss the Irish.”
And our eyes met in the dark with the t.v. light glaring and he said, “Do you want to kiss me?”
I gasped and quickly turned my head. If my skin weren’t so dark and had it not been so dimly lit in the room, you could easily see my cheeks turning a bright red. “Kiss? My teammate? Are you crazy?” There was something very wrong about kissing teammates and lusting for them. “So unprofessional“, I thought. I, more than anyone else, should know the importance of not getting emotionally/sexually involved with a co-worker or a classmate in the same class as you or anyone in your close social social when I had a crush on a guy in the same class as me in high school. He ended up friend zoning me and dating another girl within the same class. You can only imagine the drama, but that’s another story.
Here I was fucking up again. It was like my life was repeating itself, the same mistakes after another. But it felt so right and it felt so good.
We sat there in silence for a bit- me looking away from him and him looking directly at me- and I didn’t answer.
Instead, I asked a question I had always been wanting to ask him since our first project round in Indiana when he tried to teach me how to skip rocks in the lake.
“Can I lay on you?“, I looked up at him and my heart raced. Laying on Matt was taboo. It was something only the bold could do, something only Kayla was allowed to do in a “friendly” manner. When he said “yes”, it was like my heart sky rocketed. It was too good to be true. It had to be a dream. “Why on Earth would the guy I like also like me too?” He was so much bigger than me and I felt protected. Something that was new to me seeing as I had only dated skinny guys before. His fingers were long and thick, fingers I would soon learn to love thrusting in and out of me.
But, for now, I was happy just laying on him.
The naive side of me had already made wedding plans.