premature love

If I have a one night stand, or a hookup that is JUST a hookup, I really don’t care much about it. I mean sure, I found you attractive enough to sleep with you, but I’m not drawing our names in hearts in my notebook. The second the sex is over, the condom is placed in the trash, I expect you to put on your black skinny jeans, and get the hell out of my room. Sometimes though, just sometimes I have a little sex affair, you can call it, that is not like the others. Sometimes I meet someone and we just ~click~, as stereotypical as that sounds, and that “click” sticks with me. I promised I would spill on my LA romance, so here it goes, meet Jamie. I went to LA fully prepared to fuck as many hot dudes as I possibly could, after being “basically” dumped. I though, am not one to just do this type of “random fucking”, I mean, I do have one night stands, but it’s pretty rare. I’m a girl with feeeelings, sue me.  I had this idea though, that the pain of a breakup would obviously go away if I had crazy amounts of sex (dumb dumb DUMB). So I get to LA, and as the days and nights are slowly going by, I keep ending up back in my airbnb cuddled up next to a stuffed animal, watching netflix with my friends until crazy hours in the morning, with sex not even on my radar. Finally, I think it was the third night in LA, a friend of ours who lived there, invited us to a house party. We love a good house party, and something about being in LA made me goddamn confident. I put on a top notch outfit, and was ready for a night of mingling, and hopefully finding a cute boy to kiss on the mouth. We get there, and I go around socializing, dancing, taking shots out of my friends chest cavity (s/o TIM) and just doing my classic drunk house party routine. My friends and I all got separated, being the social little butterflies that we are, but met back up in a small bathroom (locking the door and not letting anyone in who actually needed to use it). We were all MESSY drunk by this time, and rolling around on the bathroom floor, literally and figuratively. I was sitting on the counter when my one friend told me she wanted me to meet some guy. Now I am not keen on the whole “meet my friend Tessa bullshit” but she had a reason behind this, this dude was a photographer for one of my favorite people of all time, who also happened to be ~famous~ (I won’t give this part away, but I am sure you can guess who I’m talking about) Classic LA…

So I decide YES we must go talk to him. We go up to him, and instead of being a normal person I say to him “ Hi Jamie, I think we need to talk”, he already knew who I was because my friend definitely told him I was some crazy obsessed fan (which I am, fuck you). But then, something happened. I completely forgot about the whole photographer for the love of my life ordeal (you have to know who I’m talking about at this point), and only cared about what this dude was saying. We sat down and talked for what seemed like forever. He seemed sweet and sensitive, and shy (the perfect mix), but also this made me on edge, made me go on the offense, thinking this was all an act, and in reality this sweet guy was really an asshole (always gotta be prepared). So instead of getting that whole giddy first time meeting crush, I shut all possible feelings down (for now at least). So we talk and talk, and for some reason when I get drunk I feel the need to psychoanalyze people, because instead of focusing on my issues, I just ~love~ to focus on other peoples (HA). So I am telling this guy why he’s shy, why he’s sensitive, why him being a Pisces “makes sense” and why him being the younger brother tells a lot about him. I mean granted, I was absolutely right, once I got to know him more, but if this really is my party trick, I don’t understand how I have friends/men who are interested in me. The night goes by and eventually we are sitting in the kitchen with both my friends and his, waiting on two of my friends to stop fucking some random people in this house so we can leave. So Jamie is sitting there, sly smile on his face, looking up from his phone, at me, then back down at his phone. I gave him my number basically the second we started talking, so there he was, saying nothing, but texting me while everyone around us was tuned into the actual conversation. I mean it was cute, he was cute, and flirty, and I liked it. Eventually he texted me to meet him by the stairs (CLASSIC MOVE), and I of course obliged. I meet him there, and with less than a chance to take a breath, he pulls me in, pushes me up against the wall (HOT) and starts making out with me. I mean come on, that moment was hot as fuck, and so perfect in my mind. We are there making out and what not, then since I felt like I knew this kid like the back of my hand, we stop and I say these words, like they literally came out of my mouth… I said “Wow you are already falling in love with me huh?” First of all, why am I so goddamn cocky, second of all, he jokingly walked away but then came right back, so  I mean I was right (JK but I at least didn’t actually scare him away). This was the topic of conversation basically throughout the whole week, anytime he did anything I would use the word LOOOOVVEE, and that he loved me, and that he couldn’t help it. I knew he didn’t, but something about watching him squirm everytime that word left my mouth was amusing. He invited me home that night, but I didn’t go. The next night though, we went out for drinks with a few friends, and I ended up back at his beautiful apartment. He had this pretty sick view of the city, and this porch where we smoked le weed. We ended up getting ridiculously high, well I did. I am not one to smoke often, so when I do, I take one hit and am baked like a damn cake. And that I was, ~baked~. We make our way to his room, the walls completely bare, and clean like ~American Psycho~ clean. I for a second thought I was going to be murdered, but that also was probably the weed infiltrating my thoughts, this guy didn’t seem like he could hurt a fly, his heart was too big (at least that's what I gathered from my analysis of him). We end up fucking, and for me at least, it was goddamn amazing, a straight 10/10. Now this could've been because I had that ~click~ with this guy, or because I was high as balls and sex when high is fucking amazing, or because this guy probably slept with a mountain of girls and knew exactly what he was doing (which is most likely the case), but whatever it was, the sex for me was so damn good. Afterwards I laid there next to him, trying to catch my breath, and trying to figure out if I should leave or not. I don’t know, I wasn’t used to the LA hookup world, normally I would stay, since it was so late, but I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to leave or not (again, weed making me overthink). So I decided, fuck that, I am staying, asked him for a t shirt and fell asleep. He stayed on his side of the bed and I on mine, no cuddling bullshit, which was kind of a bummer, but it made sense, and overall it was a great experience. The next day I left, assuming I would never see him again to be honest. I surprisingly didn’t catch feelings just because we had great sex, or because he ~seemed~ nice, I went there expecting sex, and that's what I got. BUT OF COURSE I fucked that up. I invited him out again, this time, its my “supposed” last night in LA (except I “missed” my flight, aka purposely bought a new one, OOPS). So he comes out and we go to a pretty empty bar, I mean it was Tuesday, not much action was happening around town. We get in and take shots immediately. Literally the bar was already at last call. There were maybe 4 people other than me and my friends still drinking. The bartender told us we could stay while they cleaned up, she left the lights off, and the music still playing, and we sat around drinking as my heart was breaking knowing the night would inevitably come to an end. All of a sudden Jamie sticks out his hand, I take it without question, and he pulls me to the dance floor. There we are, in the middle of an empty bar, sappy music blasting, pink lights circling us, like it was prom, and us with arms around each other, slow dancing. I MEAN COME ON, are you kidding me with this? It was a movie. But, better, because it was real, he was real. Everything around us stopped, all I could see was him, standing there right in front of me, his hand on my lower back, and the world around us was nothing more than an idea, something that didn’t seem to actually exist. I couldn’t help but smile, but realize that “oh FUCK”, as much as I wish I didn’t, I did have feelings for this guy. I felt so comfortable with him, so at ease, as if he had always known me. It made me think about one of my favorite movies, Big Fish. There is a scene where the lead male sees the lead girl, and says something along the lines of “you know how time stops when you see the love of your life in a room?” and then of course, everything around them stops, and there they are, just them, standing there, looking at one another all cute and sappy and rom com like. That’s the only way I can fully explain this moment to you, watch that movie and maybe you will understand. Granted, who knows what the fuck he was thinking in this moment, but I know what I was thinking, that this guy, even if it  wasn’t reciprocated, meant something to me. We stopped, and he looked directly at me and said the words “wow you are the one who is falling in love with me, huh?”(that sly mother fucker). I laughed, and nodded, because yeah fuck it, I was. I mean not LOVE love, but ~lovvvve~. I of course, a hopeless romantic at heart, didn’t want the moment to end, but like everything in life, it had to. Me and my friends ended up back at his house, and instead of staying over, which every part of me wanted to, I decided to go home with them. He asked me to stay, and said he would call me an uber “after”, aka after we fucked. Now I get it, truthfully I was nothing to this guy, just some random girl he met at a party and had sex with, and knowing his profession he has a lot of Tessa’s walking in and out of his life, but to me, someone who feels the need to romanticize everything, I still was thinking about that moment back in the empty bar. So I said no, even though all I wanted was to wake up next to him again. I stood in the doorway, and kissed him goodbye. As I walked away we both said things like “nice knowing you” “seeya never”, while in my heart all I wanted was him to run after me and tell me to stay. I left LA and Jamie, yet still in my heart I am thankful for those few days, regardless of if I ever see him again. Sometimes I hate how easily I fall for people, for ideas, and for moments, but I can’t help it. Sometimes I wish I could be the girl who could aimlessly fuck guys, who can have one night stands without even knowing their last name, who can sleep with someone without wanting to see them again, but that's DEFINITELY not me. I think I would rather have these moments like the one in the empty bar, when the music was still playing, and the lights were off, then never even having met Jamie at all. I get it, I am annoyingly, helplessly, and always falling in love.