Twisted

            I effing love Twisted Tea.  I think I love it more than anything in this world.  Except maybe food, my family, my friends, sex.  You know.  There is always a caste system when it comes to things like this.  But, I effing love Twisted Tea. 

            So last night me and Reg are chillin in the Double Decker and were sipping on some teas and chatting.  My apartment is literally just like the Squatter House in that there is barely anything in it yet due to laziness and snow. I have a table and a few chairs to hang around in, but no couch or entertainment center.  Also, I have not an entire dresser in my room, but you better bet your ass I have my underwear drawer and my sock drawer on the floor in there!  (But seriously, I need help from someone with a truck that can carry things around). 

            She goes upstairs to shower and shit and whatnot so I am sitting in my apartment alone pondering life and things when my phone goes off.  It’s Mase.

            “Do you wanna hang out when you’re out of work?  I’m off today.”

            “I’m done with work for the day.  I’m home slinging teas and making paella.”

            “Well lemme know!”

            “Just me and Reg here if you wanna come by.”

            “Well that’s an awesome invite.”

            “Oh sorry.  Let me try again… Sweet angel of mine would you like to come over and have some beverages, perhaps some paella?”

“No I'm good.  JUST KIDDING!”

            Such a jerk ass isn’t he??

            “Was my invitation good enough for you?”

            He ignored my question and went on to ask if we needed anything to which I told him to grab more teas if he wanted them.  Then he comes back with this;

            “Fuck”

            “What?”

            “What?”

            “Fuck what?”

            “YOU!”

            “Is that a promise of are you being a jerk ass?”

            “Both.”

            “Aww. Flattery.”

            No response and no show up for at least an hour and then I get a phone call from him asking and making sure that we don’t need anything here.  No, we don’t.  Whatever.  So he shows up like 15 minutes later. 

            He comes in and we all proceed to drink the teas unnaturally fast and were dancing to old 80s music and having a lovely time.  Around 1AM I decide that I am drunk and that I need to go to bed.  I don’t know if it was the teas or the sugar in the teas but I was not feeling like my lovely typical drunk self.  I was feeling like a bag of shit. 

            I’m guessing I felt the head rush due to the acrobatics that took place on my floor.  You know, the standard tripod headstands, round offs, wrestle mania, liver cleansing yoga, and other things of that nature. 

            Reg goes upstairs and we go to bed. 

            “Shirts?!” he says to me.

            “Ughhhh… fine.”

            I don’t typically wear shirts to bed, I wear underwear and a tank top, so I say fuck it and I just pull my shirt off and lay back down to go to bed.  He cuddles up behind me because he likes to be the big spoon.  Frankly, I like being the little spoon, so it works out well. 

            You know when you first start sleeping with someone and the self-conscious thing comes into play?  Well I don’t really feel that way when I am hanging out with him.  I don’t mind being naked around him, especially when intoxicated.  (But I think that’s everyone right?)  And he likes to bite my neck.  Being that I happen to also enjoy vampires and things of that nature it’s OK with me for my neck to be bitten.  Is hat weird?  I am not weirded out about it.  I’m laughing out loud at myself for being a slammy whore.

            We go a few times that night and it’s always like this; first time banging it out like a couple of jackrabbits.  Second time is slower and a little bit more, I don’t know, intimate maybe?  I don’t want to say intimate because that sounds too much like a relationship, and I don’t want one of those, but I guess intimate is a good description.  As a side note, one of my bucket list things is to look at a one-night stand man and ask him if he has intimacy problems.  And when his answer is a scoffing, “ugh, no,” I want to say, ‘good.  Get out.”  (First world problems I guess).

            So we are now laying around and I get up to go to the bathroom.  When I come back he is laying watching something or other and I walk in and say, “Jesus Christ.  It smells like sex in here.”  Sounds like something a scolding mother would say.  I don’t know why I thought it appropriate to say, but I did.  He laughed and agreed with me. 

            Again, were laying in bed and watching a movie and believe it or not, he is a sweet guy.  If you were to look at him, I don’t think “sweet” would be on the list of descriptions because he really can be a dick to people he doesn’t like.  Apparently he likes me well enough to not be a complete dick.  Ha. He plays with my hair and pulls me into his side and that’s how we fall asleep.  I guess I can dig it. 

            The next morning we don’t sleep too too late.  He gets up and gets his shit together.  Then when he is going to leave he waves to me from the doorway.  I am a blind motherfucker.

            “Are you flipping me off right now?”

            “Ugh.  No, I am not flipping you off.  I am waving.”

            “No kisses good bye?”

            “Ugh.”

            He comes over and leans down and tries to get the strings from his hoody up my nose.  Not at all cute or funny when just awoken.  But then he kisses me good bye, “there are your friggin kisses,” he says.

            “Ha, bye.”

            (Frantic wave).

            Didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day.  I think he is trying to not call me or text me as much and I am doing the same.  I think if we were to do that whole texting, talking, fucking thing daily it would just be a relationship and I don’t want one of those for many reasons.  Mainly because I don’t feel like going through the fucking process and the whole “getting to know you… getting to feel free and easy.”

            I’m already free and easy, why slap more labels on it?