Today! Is the 4.5 anniversary of the first time The Foliage and I made out! Every year on the actual makeoutaversary I forget to post about it, so the ninth halfaversary will have to do.
So OK we'd met, and we wrote back and forth after that. A lot. Like, A LOT a lot. But, even though I visited DC several times, he blew me off. Every time. Until, in May, I told him, "I'm coming down on June 7th. If I don't see you, we are no longer friends." And he believed that shit!
So June 7th. Saturday. I'm in Dupont Circle, but the friend who's hosting me isn't home. And it's approximately seven zillion degrees. And The Foliage and I are texting. And I have to pee. So. Very. Badly. And also - I AM NOT ASHAMED, FAMILY MEMBERS - I was smoking. Because SOMETIMES usually when DRINKING I would have a CIGARETTE and I had one in my purse and I needed to distract myself from the overwhelming urgency o' the urine. And I'd been sitting on this stoop waiting for this guy for, like, an hour! I figured, no way he'll show up NOW.
But yeah. He did. Of course he did. Like 2 seconds after I'd lit the damn thing, he walks up. And he sees the cigarette, and his face just FALLS. So I'm all, "Ohhhhhhhkay so he hates cigarettes and he won't believe that I'm not actually a smoker now so the rest of this day is going to be super awkward since I've ruined it." And greet him with, "I really have to go to the bathroom." Because, WHATEVER you don't like me anyway.
He bought a bottle of water at Starbucks so I could use their bathroom, and we walked and talked for HOURS, stopping in at a pub for a beer. Where he told me about how he'd been arrested, and described IN GREAT DETAIL the disappointing breasts of a very nice girl he'd dated (for the record: "tennis balls in tube socks") while the bartender shook his head at this total failure of a flirt.
We met up with my friends back at the apartment, and while I got ready to go out with the girls, he planted himself on the couch. Because...."Point Break" was on. I kept coming out of the bathroom in my super tight skirt, prancing around to grab his attention. NOPE. Point Break. And it was on CABLE so it was EDITED and had COMMERCIALS.
I am beguiling as shit. Apparently.
Now I understand his freakish Keanulove, but at the time, it was quite a blow. I've also learned that he does not respond as expected to prancing. So. Life lessons.
Once the movie had ended (AND NO SOONER) we left for the Georgetown Waterfront. He and I planted ourselves at a table at the first bar we visited, which was nearly empty, and kind of gross. But he has NO game, so he wasn't going to go to a REAL bar. I thought he wanted the quieter venue so he could talk to me, but no. Wrong. We talked about my List (an extensive set of criteria I had for weeding out unsuitable guys) which segued into talking about our siblings, and being the eldests. A topic that had very high priority on The List.
We stayed until the bar closed, and walked back to the apartment, where everyone had passed out. NO cushioned space remained. We laid (lay? laid? I think lay is correct but it sounds way too proper here) down behind the couch, whispering to one another. Mostly he made fun of one of the other girls who'd worn a dress the side of a Band-Aid.
It was taking forfucking ever. And my general approach wasf I wanted make out with a guy, I would initiate it. Usually by saying something really subtle like, "Do you wanna make out?" I was almost to that point of annoyed-with-waiting, when he tapped my nose, and leaned in. Why the nose tap? I don't know. No game! That cannnot be understated! Also most of the guys I dated were pretty socially awkward, so this wasn't entirely new to me.
After a bit, he started to move his hands to my waist, but I wouldn't let him reach underneath my shirt. He took this for my sense of propriety or whatever, and backed RIGHT off, not wanting to make me uncomfortable.
But OMG here's the thing: I had no problem with it. I stopped him because I had a goddamned RASH on my STOMACH. It had mysteriously appeared, like, a week before and was MISERABLY itchy. And by that point was really scaly and dried up.
So basically my futurehusband was duped into thinking I was some kind of virtuous because of my stomach rash. Thanks, really sensitive skin and lavender scented laundry detergent!
Also when we made our wedding invitations, we gave Mom a list of significant events, and she included this one as "first kiss." HA! Welcome to the truth, world.