Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for mature content.
I would like to say that my life is uneventful. In some ways, that’s true. I wake up everyday, go to school, come back home, and talk to my roommates.
My roommates are nice. They’re easy to talk to. Most of our conversations consist of us complaining about the boys that come in and out of our lives—literally more often than not. We’re college girls; it’s to be expected. Over the past eleven months, my body count jumped from one to about twelve. I honestly can’t remember most of my hookups, but they’ve all been special in their own ways.
With each person that I let into my life, there’s a pattern. I meet them on Tinder or Bumble. From there, I make sure that someone I’m close to knows them. They usually do honestly since I live in a small college town. Then, I invite them over, and we watch a movie or smoke or whatever young people do. Next, he moves in for the kiss, and my heart decides its fate. The fate is usually a short lived crush until I get pissed at them for breathing.
That is something I hate about myself. My patience is so thin with these boys, so I can hardly stand them after our third time hooking up. It’s happened eleven times. That feels really fast, but there is one boy that I just can’t get off of my mind.
His name is George. He’s got dark skin and tattoos. A smile that I would kill to see again. His lips are puffy and just “oh-so-kissable”. When I’m around him, I feel as though I’m on top of the world. My tummy gets all bubbly, and I can never keep myself from smiling. He’s got the best energy.
George and I’s relationship started off on Tinder. I was working at a nearby Old Navy, and George texted me while I was working one day.
me: i love ur smile, ur so cute
(which i totally believed)
george: Thank you, I think your hair is really pretty
me: thank you! your taste in music is also bomb, i absolutely love it
george: Thanks, I don’t really have a choice but to listen to music all day. I’m surrounded by it where I work
me: that’s pretty cool, i’m stuck listening to the top 40 at old navy, i’ve really just been folding shirts all day
george: Oh shit, Old Navy is cool
george: I actually need to buy new clothes. Might stop by on my lunch break
He never did. He’s the type of person that says that he’ll show up, but he never does. The next night, we decided to hang out. It was a late night in June, and I was still in shambles after my first big breakup in April. I’m honestly not sure that I’m over that ex, but I feel as though I’ll move on eventually. It’s just hard when it’s your first big relationship.
George came over, and he was even cuter than his Tinder profile led me to believe. He has thick black dreads that fall just around his ears, clear skin, and the best attitude. We sat and chatted for a bit, and it was the first time that I had actually been extremely interested in one of the guys I had been seeing. He told me stories about bands that he’d met through his work and even some stories about drugs and parties he’d been to. At this point, I had never been to a party, so he was probably the most interesting person I’d ever met.
me: i’ve actually never been to a party before, it’s just not really my scene. i’m the type to stay home and watch movies
george: Really? I’ll take you to one sometime soon, I think you’d like it.
me: that sounds cool to me… do you smoke?
george: I do. What other drugs do you do?
me: just the weed, i can’t really do other drugs, got family history of schizophrenia. so i’m not super into trying any of the psychedelics
george: Oh cool, I probably shouldn’t do them honestly.
me: what about you?
george: I microdose molly from time to time. I really like it. I don’t really do drugs everyday, but I do them somewhat often because my coworkers are into them.
me: what’s the molly like?
george: Oh it’s amazing. It makes everything so lovey and beautiful. I like doing it and watching TV or something like that.
me: that’s dope, sounds appealing.
We talked about our life situations for about an hour, and it was the first time that my ex hadn’t been brought up in a conversation in months (it’s embarrassing, i know). He ended up having to go pick up molly in the middle of our date and invited me to come with him and check out the place he works. He works at this cool record label where he packs orders. He’s pretty successful with it, since he’s a supervisor in his department.
In the car, we didn’t really speak much. Mainly just listened to music and made small talk about whatever song came up next. I had never heard any of the music he played, but I loved every single song. After he had dropped off his drug money and picked up his stuff, he drove me to the record label.
george: You have a record player and like two records. I’m embarrassed for you, so I’m going to get you some of those and some CD’s.
me: you really don’t have to do that, i’d feel bad if you gave me anything!
george: Don’t feel bad, they’re free for me too. I’m not paying for them, so it’s all fine.
me: i don’t like gifts
george: You’ll like these.
So he walked me into the headquarters of the record label.
It was dark and empty, so I felt alive. My stomach had butterflies, and it all felt like a dream. The walls were an off-white, and the flooring was made of this weird carpet-y tile. He grabbed me by the hand and led me deeper into the office, towards the kitchen.
george: want anything?
me: water is fine
george: are you sure you don’t want a beer or anything? we have sparkling water too, have something
me: gross, sparkling water! no beer for me either. i’m really fine with water.
george: suit yourself, but i’m going to have a beer.
He was driving, so the beer kind of made me nervous, but I was sure it would be fine. He just made me feel that way. He was so sure of himself, so I was sure of him.
george: let me show you where i hang out here.
He led me towards the back, a hole in the wall. It was pitch-black in the warehouse until he turned the lights on. Surrounding me were aisles of records and a little station meant for packing orders. On this station, there were lots of photos and stickers. I even saw a photo of a naked lady, which made me a little uncomfortable since I knew that he was the primary person that worked here. I ignored the yucky feeling building up in my chest.
george: so let’s get you set up.
He walked through the warehouse, jumping up and down the huge metal shelves that held thousands of boxes.
He picked out about sixty vinyls, ten or fifteen CDs, and a couple books. As he did this, he gave me his opinions on whether or not he think I’d like them based on what he’d seen of my music taste. When I didn’t recognize an artist, he would fake gasp and tell me about how amazing the record was and how I needed to listen to it.
george: you know what’s fun here?
me: i actually don’t, what is it?
george: hide and seek. but in the dark.
me: i am so afraid of the dark, that sounds awful.
George went over to the light switch and turned it off. I stood there awkwardly, trying not to think of how large the warehouse was in the dark. He walked back over to me and grabbed me lightly by the arms.
george: don’t worry about the dark, i’m here, you’re safe.
george: i promise.
Then, he tilted my chin up. He lightly kissed my cheek and then turned my face to his. He kissed me, and it tasted like beer. I had never enjoyed the taste of beer, but in that moment, it was my favorite drink.
There we were, kissing in the dark. He grabbed me by my waist, carefully groping me. It felt like I knew what he wanted, but I didn’t want to mess up our good thing with sex. I ended up telling my roommates about this later, and they were surprised that I didn’t have sex with him considering how highly I had been speaking of him.
We made out in the dark of the warehouse, and it felt like everything had fallen into place. Was I in love? I knew I shouldn’t be, but I was at the very least infatuated by the end of our date. We kissed a lot more, and then he took me home.
When I got into bed that night, I put on one of George’s records and couldn’t keep myself from blushing while thinking about the sweetest moments of my night.