The night seemed to be going just like any other. My friends and I were at our usual spot, and we could not be more indifferent. But as I looked up from checking how many likes I got on my most recent Instagram, I saw him. The most beautiful man I have ever seen. The kind of beautiful that changes your core temperature. For the sake of the fantasy, I will let you imagine what he looked like. We stood staring at each other from across the room for a few seconds as the world went on turning without us. I flashed him my signature dimpled smile to let him know it was on. He slithered through the crowd, holding his stacked beer cans over his head, and introduced himself. His name was Brad. Of fucking course it was. I was so mesmerized by his perfection. Do you kiss your mother with that beautiful mouth? I bet she kisses you. Not like in a weird way, but in an “I made this gorgeous creature” way. Okay yeah, still weird.
He was laying on the charm thick like molasses. Now I’ve never actually encounter molasses in real life, but his game constitutes the classic comparison. He knew exactly what to say, or in this case, scream, over the booming bass of the deep house remix of “Love Yourself.” I tried my best to keep up with him, but all I could do was giggle and keep subtly wiping my face of the sweat that was beading at my hairline. It wasn’t hot in there, it was him. He gave me his unopened backup beer, and as if that wasn’t sweet enough, he asked if my friends needed any drinks. At this point, I had forgotten other humans existed besides the two of us. I aggressively shook my head no because I could not fathom sharing him for a single second. I don’t know what he saw in me, but when he looked at me, he was looking into the windows of my soul. I couldn’t believe this movie moment was happening to me. I started telling the story to our grandkids in my head. My extended hiatus from Relationshiptown seemed to be quickly coming to an end.
We took our beers and batting eyelashes to the dance floor. As we guzzled and grinded, it was clear that we had some serious chemistry. The drunker I got, the more confident I got. I had one hand up behind his neck while I gyrated my hips like I was in a Snoop Dogg music video. The only problem was, the drunker he got, the sloppier he got. His sparkling eyes began to glaze over, and I couldn’t tell if he was kissing my neck because he wanted to or because he couldn’t support his head anymore.
The party was winding down and his face was deep in my collarbone, so I turned around and finally kissed him. He was losing most of his motor skills, but definitely not in his face. What else could he do with his tongue? Get a hold of yourself, woman, you’re still in the game. He floated over my lips for a few seconds before he pulled his head back and looked into my eyes, and asked me if I wanted to spend the night with him. Every muscle in my body contracted at the thought of bumping bellies with this boy wonder. He took my shock as hesitation, and decided I need some convincing. So he slurred the least romantic thing that any woman has heard or will ever hear:
“I won’t put it in your butt, I swear.”
For a brief moment, I felt safer. He was considering what I wanted and not many men do that anymore. Maybe chivalry isn’t dead. But as the statement sunk deeper into my skin, I realized that I did not show up to this party concerned with the wellbeing of my asshole, and it is now the only thing on my mind. I made up some lame excuse about needing to feed my roommate and drive my cat to the airport in the morning and disappeared into the night.
My immoral cautionary tale has a moral to it: Ladies, you should always watch your ass..
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