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 3 of 4
Finally contact. Just a “how are you?” text. He didn't even try to ask me out. Tired of keeping my distance, I told him I was going to a party and he should come. He showed up. I was overjoyed. He acted grumpy, claiming he was tired. I heard a voice in my head say, “After this week? This guy, really Lacy?”
Thirty minutes of terrible mingling went by and I had to leave. I suggested we go back to his place and fall asleep. I was trying to make everything go back to the way it had been—fun, exciting and easy. Stupidly, I thought physical intimacy was the best way to do this. Thankfully, we didn't have sex that night. He passed out and I stared at the ceiling.
I woke up early and listened to him snore next to me on the bed, on the floor. The same voice said, “Get it together, Warner. You've spent your twenties pussy-footing around dudes, making it as easy as possible for them to like you. Now you're in bed with a guy who is rude and been avoiding you all week.”
We started making out. It took all my will power to stop and say, “Things got really messy between us.” He pulled the sheet around his boner and apologized. He said he knew what I was talking about and it was his fault. He told me he had a terrible week. He practically lost his job and couldn't face anyone. I said, “Well, we weren't only sleeping together, we were friends. I don't want to be left hanging.”
I looked at him and saw him for who he was. He was exactly like me when I was 25: lost, lonely and unavailable. I decided to end it. No matter how much I liked him he wasn't ready to be somebody's partner. I had to admit that's what I was looking for.
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