Friday, February 1, 2013
Sex Sex, Love and Brooklyn: Fucking a Boy, To Become a Woman
Posted by Lacy Warner on Fri, Feb 1, 2013 at 6:16 AM
Page 2 of 4
He begged me to come over and listen to him play guitar. I was embarrassed for him: I couldn't believe anybody still used that line. But, he was cute and sincere—a novelty, considering my usual dates. Before he started strumming I told him straight up I would mercilessly make fun of him with my friends. In the words of the great Julie Klausner, “I don't care about your band." Please don't try to impress me with stories about your awesome tour through Pittsburgh.
He played me a Loudon Wainwright song about being lonely and clinging to the nearest, most inappropriate person for comfort. We started kissing. Is this why people dig musicians? Before I knew what I was doing, I said, “In spite of myself, I think like you.” Even though he didn't know who Kim Deal is and owned a 200-strong DVD collection, something clicked. I went with it.
The chemistry between us was off the charts. The sex was like the anti-drug PS where Rachel Leigh Cook scrambles eggs in a frying pan and says “This is your brain on drugs.” That was my brain on sex with this guy, except my eggs were more than scrambled—they were fried.
I had one week left before I was heading off to travel. I wanted to get in as much fun as possible. I found myself looking forward to his daily texts, and thinking about sending him care packages from the road. We made plans to meet at my best friend's opening. I wanted to introduce him to my gang. He also invited me to stay over so I could sublet my place a few days early.
You know what's coming next. He disappeared. He stopped texting and cancelled our plans with the vague excuse he was sick.
The time and energy I spent thinking about what went wrong could power a small village in Kenya. I talked to everyone I knew, including my 65-year-old male boss. He told me 25-year-old men were pathological and I shouldn't take it personally. But I did take it personally. If it was something I did, I could fix it, right?
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