March 10, 2006

I'm as Corny as Kansas in August

Matt, my roommate from last year, was a schmoozer. He loved words and socializing, he loved coming up with outrageous lies and seeing how far he could go with them, and most of all, he loved talking people into things. Most notably, he loved talking girls into sleep with him. It was kind of his thing.

At the end of last semester, I humorously drew a sketch of our building and kept track of his sexual conquests: two on the tenth floor, one on the ninth, one on the eigth, three on the seventh, none on the sixth (unless you count his left hand), one on the fifth, three on the fourth, one on the third, and two on the second. That may sound somewhat impressive, but when you realize that there's only 12 people that live on the floor, he pretty much tapped every ass that was worth tapping in the building.

Which meant that by the last month of last year got to be pretty awkward. As I'm sure some of you guys know, bumping into people you've fooled around with can lead to situations which are less than favorable. When there's an entire building filled with ex-conquests, nothing good can come from it.

It was during that time that I met Guy.

Guy was tall, dark, and very cute. Guy was also the best friend of Matt's first conquest. Matt and I were walking down the stairs, Guy and his friend were walking up. Guy and I caught eyes and smiled, while Matt and the girl looked down and created little storm clouds over each of their heads. I had just started dating Heart, so I couldn't have done anything anyway, but he definitely made me turn my head and want more.

Fast-forward to last Tuesday. I've been following my new years resolution fairly successfully, and have drastically cut down the amount of time I'm online and in the chatrooms. Last Tuesday, however, I was looking for a quick distraction from the paper on Marlowe, so I logged in for only a bit.

I stumble onto his picture, and am like, "Hey. That guy is cute and familiar-looking." I say Hi, he says Hi, we've got a nice little conversation going. I'm a perfect gentleman; after reading English Renaissance verse I turn into one classy guy. We talk on AIM, and we chat for a bit more. And then chat for a bit on Wednesday, too.

Ten o'clock Wednesday night, I've finished my paper, and so has he. I say I have to head over to a local dive bar for a bit, because it's a friend-of-a-friend's 21st birthday. He says he's going over to a friends as well, but they might come out and say hi. I'm excited.

My friend's party is kind of a bust. It's the week of midterms, and so a lot of people don't stay at the bar for long, and by time I got there, people had already hit the limit they had set for themselves on a school night with tests in the morning, nursing their last beer.

Guy and his friend walk in. If I didn't recognize him when he walked him, I recognized him when he walked over and gave me a hug. He introduced his friend, I did a sweeping hand gesture for my friends, and then ditched them to go sit with Guy and his friend on the other side of the bar.

Things are going well. We're flirting but keeping it enough in check so that his friend doesn't feel awkward. A little footsie action, the insde of my right foot steady against the inside of his left, calves touching to the knees.

Fast-forward to bartime. He invites me over to his place. He says normally he's not that kind of guy, but he's leaving for Spring Break the next day and wants to see me some more before he leaves. I say normally I'm not the kind to say yes, but it's his birthday on Monday.

His apartment is amazing. Probably the nicest one I've seen in Madison. It's pretty dirty (four bedrooms, four college guys=slob central) but there's so much potential. Big picture windows, a deck that's twice as large as my room, right next door to the liquore store; this place is a dream. Two younger sisters, just like me.

Up the stairs to his room. Shoes off, lying on his bed, talking about his Spring Break plans: Puerto Rico with his family. Where he's from: grew up in Malibu, but parents moved to Manhattan his freshman year.

He says something fantastically cheesy, like "I can't believe I've got such a cute guy in my bed." He moves in for a kiss.

He's got stubble, which looks really nice on him, but I always find that scratchy. We're kissing, his shirt off, then mine. He's got broad shoulders, and is naturally smooth. He runs his fingers through my chest hair, saying that I've got the perfect amount. I roll my eyes, since now the cheesiness is in full force. My pants off, his pants off, doing that thing that you always see in movies where we roll all over the place, me on top of him, him on top of me.

I pull off, and say "If I would have known, I would have worn cuter underwear." He says that he would have, too. His boxers and my boxer-briefs off. He represents, downstairs, a little longer than me but not quite as thick. It's a good mouthful.

While his chest is really nice, his legs and ass aren't much, and while my chest isn't much, my legs and ass are nicely sculpted. I've got an ass like cantalopes.

Lots of frottage, mostly because the kissing is so nice.

We cum and clean up. He puts on his Nina Simone mix on iTunes. We lie on his bed for another hour, cuddling and talking about Nina, about Six Feet Under, about classes.

We climb under the covers and go to bed. After a bit of cuddling, he turns onto his back and lies like a corpse, hands even on his side, head up, asleep almost instantly.

I'm on my side, trying to get to sleep, thinking about how much I'm crushing on this guy. I know all about the dangers of CoolKid, and how I tend to crush too much too quickly, how I always feel these sorts of feelings after casual sex. I can't decide if I force these feelings to quash any guilt, or if I only have casual sex with guys that I want more of a relationship with. I'm leaning towards the latter, but the former is certainly possible.

His room gets so bright in the mornings. We're both awake by seven, trying to keep still as not to awaken the other. He turns over, starts to cuddle, and feels my morning glory. We jerk each other off, no kissing due to morning breath. Our panting breath matches, and sounds so hot. We clean up and go back to sleep for another hour. His alarm goes off, and I begrudgingly get up and get dressed. I kiss him goodbye, and wish him a happy birthday and a safe trip.

It's about ten o'clock and I'm walking back to my place to change before class. I spy my roommate walking to class, and he says hi, I say hi. I realize that this is my first "walk of shame."

Good for me.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.