I have previously talk about how naive and awkward I am when it comes to romance. When I was 22 I unwittingly added being an asshole to my list. I was getting over my first serious relationship and decided to take off for a two week vacation in Hawaii. Overseas alone was a very daunting expedition for an introvert who was still living at home. However, I stayed in a hostel in Waikīkī, and even met two really delightful English girls and became instant friends.
One night they took me to a pub they’d found and introduced me to the joys of a Long Island Iced Tea; and watched the 74th Academy Awards on the big screen TV. There were a couple of guys at this pub who I believe the lasses had encountered on a previous day because they came over and joined the table. One of the guys, his name was Jake (at least I’m pretty sure it was, shit dude sorry if it isn’t – now I’m an even bigger asshole!!) came across as rather cocky and sure of himself, and the girls didn’t really care for him all that much.
But he got to talking with me, probably because I was the only one polite enough to respond and pay attention. And it turned out he was actually a decent sort, cocky yes, but very intelligent and witty. It turned out we had a few things in common, an interest in Ancient Egypt and old classic films. Somehow, I got to calling him Humphrey Bogart (he said was his favourite actor) and he was calling me Audrey Hepburn (my favourite actress). It was a fun night and I did come away with just a little crush on Bogart (I’ll keep calling him that, just in case his name isn’t Jake )
I ended up going to North Shore for a few days with the girls and came back to Waikīkī the day before I was scheduled to return to Australia. That night, on a whim, I decided to go to the pub, just in case Bogart was there. And he was there. He started buying me drinks. We had some pretty deep conversation going, and major flirting too.
It gets late and I’m on the happy side of tipsy and decide I’d better call it a night and head back to my dorm. Bogart walks with me until the intersection where his apartment is a different direction to my dorm. And he gives me the most spellbinding passionate kiss, like straight out of one of my favourite movies. Dead set, it was amazing. And now that he’s charmed me with that incredible kiss, I find myself going with him to his apartment.
A few times I stop walking to half heartedly say I should probably be going back to my dorm. Keep in mind I’m not saying this because I really wanted to go back to my dorm. I’m only saying it because part of me knew it was very improper to take off with a complete stranger in another country. He distracts me with kisses trailing up my arm, my neck and to my mouth … of course I am putty in his very expert hands and my thoughts have turned to mush and I can only think how much I want him.
Seriously those kisses were captivating, I’d not been kissed like that before. It was like he walked straight out of my mind and into real life – his personality, his kisses, his unconventional cuteness it was all like my ideal mate come to life.
Except for the bit that came after.
I don’t have much to say except that the sex really was actually pretty disappointing. So we ended up falling asleep at some point and when I wake up the next morning, I realise with dismay just how much better my holiday fantasy would have been if I hadn’t actually slept with him. I am also shockingly aware of just how awkward and uncomfortable I feel right now because I desperately want a shower and a toothbrush (fucking alcohol fuelled morning breath).
I tell him I’ve really got to go and I hurriedly throw on my clothes, distractedly rebuffing his offer of breakfast. He goes to give me a kiss goodbye and I hold out my hand (like offering a handshake) and say it was nice to meet him and thanks for the memory.
Yeah real smooth, sleeping with someone and then shaking their hand like “it’s pleasure doing business with you”. I didn’t want him to kiss me because I was paranoid about the fact I felt unclean – I hate even talking to people when my mouth doesn’t feel clean, let alone kissing. But of course I came off as an asshole by totally brushing him off, which wasn’t my intention at all.
So um I guess I owe you an apology Jake (yeah that’s totally your name, I’m sure of it now) – I’m really sorry about being such an asshole. I did quite like you, and if I wasn’t such a freak about my having clean teeth and such, you would have gotten at least one more kiss out of me. I probably would have gone another round with you too, just in case it was alcohol that made the sex suck. At least I hope it was the alcohol, and not you. (SHIT! I’m still being an asshole…sorry Jake!)