The First Time We Met

He’s incredible and I was scared as shit. There was nothing that I could find about him that utterly repulsed me, the conversation was actually good conversation, and he was hot as fuck. My infatuation and secret love for skater boys was coming true.

Right before I started talking to him, I had a serious conversation with myself and decided I was going to start dating like a man; why get my emotions involved just to get hurt by some bum ass? I was on a rampage to continue to get free meals, look pretty, go on adventures, and receive compliments that I knew I wouldn’t fully receive. I was just living my best single life and running around as if I was invincible.

I met him on Tinder and as soon as we started texting, I knew it was end game. I was truly lovestruck. 

“Sorry but still kinda don’t think this is real. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen. And you’re hot too! Still waiting for you to ghost me”, was what I received after sending him a selfie of me in a headache wrap because I was hungover. Being called beautiful was such a foreign phrase that I swear my insides were burning up from the fire he ignited in me.

“I’d like to go on a date with you as soon as possible”, I texted with the last ounce of courage I had in my body. I knew I needed him; he was smart, honest, alluring, tall, handsome, and made me laugh. My whole body was melting like ice cream and I wanted him to be the one to lick me up before I fell.

I knew he was stalling and making excuses as to why he couldn't see me so soon, and I guess I understood…we did just meet a week ago and I could be a complete psycho bitch. Three days later our schedules finally aligned and I was just as nervous as I had been right before my first kiss. I was wearing black leggings, a tank, and a brown and black striped hoodie with my hair pulled back and some gold hoops in. A very cute, but casual look since the plan was to literally hangout. He had given me the most serene feeling of safety just from our phone conversations, so I knew I was going to be fine in the company of this man. I texted him when I was five minutes away. I was sweating like I had just ran a few suicides. I parked and as soon as I saw that he was waiting for me outside his place I knew that he would always keep me safe - physically, verbally, emotionally; something so secure that I’d never felt from any man before.

He was wearing tan Dickies, a white tee, and a flannel paired with some PFlyers. I walked in front of him wondering how my ass looked and how good he would look between it. We walked into his place and we couldn’t stop looking and smiling at each other. There was something so pure about the way he was staring at me. I looked away before he could see the swell of my overwhelming joyful tears from that eye contact.

I was so involved and captivated by our conversation it was like time was playing games with us. Sometimes only minutes passed by and sometimes hours, but it all felt natural and like we were already a couple in love. That could have just been me, but the mere imagery playing around in my head of that possibility made me want to swim with him in my waters. I had never genuinely laughed so hard and for so long, I knew that I was going to have abs at some point in the future.

We finally got close enough in proximity that I could feel his body heat. The moment he grabbed my waist, I didn’t dare let another breath pass between us until our lips smashed together.

You know that feeling you get when you finally figure out the answer to the question that has always bothered you? He was my answer to every one of those questions. All my worries weighed less, my trauma loosened its grip on me, and my doubts of finding the one faded away.

One thing did not lead to another as he respected my statement of “I’m not going to have sex with you when we first meet” that I texted him days ago.

The feeling of euphoria lasted all night and followed me into my car, bed, dreams, and future plans. I swear I was going to have an orgasm with how many different beautiful, unnamed emotions I was feeling. I was all for him and he was all for me; there was nothing and no one that could tell me otherwise. He was my man.

“Aahh fuck, you’re making my pussy wet lmfao” was my third text to him the next day, on Valentine’s Day. I have never spoken those words before in my life.

I think I would say I’m in love, but I don’t want to jinx myself.