Initiating things isn't my way or style. However, if I'm being honest, it wasn't because I didn't want things to happen but rather, I lacked the confidence to make them happen. I was/am shy...at first, anyway. I feel comfortable in how I look and dress, but there's always been that social hurdle of making contact that I just can't seem to make happen - alcohol induced confidence excluded, of course. It is safe to say that I over analyze everything. If I do this, what will he think? I labor over what outfits to wear...every day. I want social acceptance but fear rejection even more, I think. It is the primary decision influencer in me – rightly or wrongly. I have an innate desire to want to please and avoid conflict at all cost. Paramount, however, is that I want to be liked. Because I choose words carefully, always considering how they'll come off, I was never one to be quick on my feet. Introspectively, this perhaps places more emphasis on my non-verbal communication to get what I want - a guy to talk to me, look at me, hit on me, kiss me, fuck me, etc. That is what I'm good at.
This happened right in the beginning of my college experience and stands out to me as the first time I actually initiated being 'naughty'. Jay was a guy's guy. Good looking. Smart. Athletic. Funny. Confident. Popular. I met him in the fall of my freshman year and was captivated by him immediately. While I could get him to notice me, and even chase me on occasion, it never went anywhere. He'd call/text just enough to let me know he was there, yet never asked me out. And yet, when I was at his fraternity's house, he'd always hit on me. Yet, nothing. We made out a few times, even shacked once, but I didn't give him what he wanted – not even close – although I did let him try. Months went on, and it was more of the same. I just accepted the fact that he wasn't sure if he was into me or not.
In the spring of my freshman year, for whatever reason, his calls/texts became more frequent. We hung out more, but it never was officially dating. On the occasion I was at his fraternity house, I'm certain we made out, but again, it was always spur of the moment stuff. He never asked me out to any socials, functions, etc. We were just good friends, I guess.
Then, my car broke down. It changed my routine drastically, which was magnified by the fact that I lived off campus. Then, the sweetest thing happened – Jay offered me his car...for the day, which turned into a week. In retrospect, I probably would have been fine without a car for a few days, but when it happened, it seemed horrific.
Of course, being the over analyzer that I am, this threw me for a loop. Maybe he did like me? Who loans their car out to someone for a week? There were no apprehensions, nothing. He genuinely wanted me to use it. So, I did.
During that week, we talked/texted every day. I was very grateful...and indebted. And, because it felt socially normal, and passed the it-would-be-okay filters, I told him I wanted to make it up to him. I'm a horrible cook, but that's what I wanted to do for him – invite him over, hang out, nobody else would be around (roommate practically lived with her boyfriend), and...maybe, just maybe I could get him to bite...finally. He agreed.
Again, everything was calculated and analyzed ad nauseam. What if he rejected me? Will I look stupid? Desperate? What if the meal was horrible? What should I wear? What would we talk about? What should I buy at the store? Everything.
My car got fixed and I dropped off his jeep and he drove me to my apartment on his way to class. Outfit #1 was a denim skirt, tee shirt and sandals. I felt confident as I knocked on his door at the fraternity house. And, I got the approval I wanted from his reaction. He teased me. I down played the outfit. Goal accomplished – get him excited about that night. Check.
He came over about 8:00 that evening. Outfit number 2 was a pair of shorts, a college tee shirt that nearly covered my shorts, but not really. It was the trend. No shoes, and my hair pulled up. Now why would my hair be pulled up? :-) Again, everything was contemplated. It needed to run smoothly.
I made him this Mexican casserole and we had margaritas – for his sake and mine. As the drinks flowed, so did the conversation. Suffice it to say that conversation led to flirting. Flirting led to innuendo, innuendo led to me teasing. Fish on hook.
I remember standing in the kitchen, pretending to clean up, when he entered the kitchen to help; the kitchen was small, and essentially overlooked the living room area. He kissed me. It was amazing – not that it was ever bad. But, perhaps I knew what it meant, and what was coming up that made it seem on a different level.
My natural instinct was to let him lead. It's possible I'd perfected the art of making myself available to be kissed, and it was on full display in that moment. I made it clear that this wouldn't be just a kiss. This would be a make out session. I let him know that I approved, perhaps lunging at his lips with my own as I felt him pull away. My soft fingers caressed his chest, clinching his shirt lightly. I wanted him to know he was a good kisser, even if I wasn't confident enough to say it aloud. I also wanted him to know that he could kiss me as much as he wanted. As the kiss broke, I blushed. I smiled, as I looked up at him. If he had only known what was causing me to blush. I was ready right then and there, to take care of him and he could tell something was on my mind.
