We finish our drinks amongst our meaningless, drunken chatter, passionate makeout sessions and teasing leg touches, and conclusively decide we should get a cab back to “Matty”’s place. Like now. Please and fucking thank you. Walking hand in hand we stumble into a cab outside of the bar and crawl in. I want to pounce on him so bad. It’s kinda crazy. But at this point in my life at 23 years of age I had matured to know I do not wanna be that girl who is making out in the back of a cab. I’d much rather let him grope my leg and traipse up my skirt, as I bite my lip and eye fuck him, while the cabbie has no idea what’s going on. “Discretion” is a must.
We whisper presumptuous nothings I don’t quite remember (or quite really want to relay) into each other’s ears in the cab, and 15 minutes later we are at his place. He takes my hand and eagerly guides me up the stairs and to his room. I have been told by him that we plainly “went at it” right away but I do not remember it too clearly; however, I would not put that past me. When I am reallllyyy into someone I let myself do what I want. Free bird. I don’t recall that night extremely well but we definitely had sex. Most insanely, he started calling me baby the second we were in his room. This took me completely by surprise but I went with it because he was consuming, our connection was intoxicating, and I wanted to be his baby in this moment. In this moment.
BUT things I do remember from that night: I said to him while we were hooking up “how do you exist?” (Once again, would not put that past me). That rhetorical question/passionate declaration/whatever was fascinating to me because it was completely from my subconscious. I was probably thinking in my head “How can a person this smart, sexy, adorable, sweet, good in bed, etc. be so wonderful and open and fun and etc.?” It just seemed too good to be true (don’t worry kiddos, IT WAS). So I recalled that… and I remember I was lying down at one point and noticed he had a huge (as in 3’x5’ HUGE) American flag in his room. I remember saying to him sarcastically, “Nice American flag”. I would never ever say that if I had been sober (actually no that’s a lie, I probably would’ve still said that) but me in my uber liberal drunken mind, who is only used to seeing Israeli flags if any flags in peoples’ rooms at all, was caught off guard and just being stupid. It’s not like I’m anti-having an American flag in your room or that I’m a “terrorist” as he jokingly called me because I made fun of his flag. But it’s weird! To me at least, I mean to each his own. (But in the back of my head that was the first red flag that we were clearly not meant to be). He was a little taken aback and offended by this comment (coming from a military family and all) and asked me “You don’t love your country?” Oh Jesus, I obviously would have never said that comment if I knew this bullshit was coming. I replied trying to retract my semi-distasteful remark, “Of course, of course, I’m just not used to seeing a such a big flag in people’s rooms…” or something like that and then apologized so many times with my sweetest and most charming “I’m sorry” face. He immediately forgave me as he fell into my arms and we continued “to touch each other” (one of my favorite synonyms for fucking from mah girl Sarah haha). We fell asleep spooning and woke up at 6 am. I wanted him even more in the morning.