Page 12 of The Virgin Playboy

“Please tell me you stayed your ass off those dating apps,” she scolded, my silence calling me all the way out. Wasn't it better than lying?

“Jaq?” she whined.

“What? Yenory, I'm not built like you. The longest I can go without sex is like a year, and even in that year I'm like an unneutered dog. Just humping every surface my yoni comes in contact with for some release. Which is crazy, because a couple weeks ago I met this guy. Insanely fine. Tatted up. Smooth brown skin. Oh my god, a smile to die for! I ignored the fact that he was younger than me, because when I tell you, he was pursuing me heavily. I loved his confidence, and his vibe was just different than I'm used to.”

“I hear a huge but coming on⁠—”

“But,” I interjected. “Then he said some shit that brought up bad trauma, with… you know. And I don't know, I just panicked. We didn't even get past him going down on me, and you know how much I like sucking dick,” I whined, as we stopped by a truck selling pressed juices, the ginger waking up my tired senses.

“Jaq, I don't want to be unsympathetic, but will you ever stop blaming yourself for what happened with him? Like, I know I've gone through my own shit. I'm used to blaming myself all the time for everything bad that happened when I was with Randall. Certain things take a toll on you and show up in the world, trust me, I know. But while it took years for me to stop punishing myself for that abuser's flaws, I came to realize I wasn't accepting the right kind of love for myself, because I was holding onto that guilt, that pain. I didn't know how to recognize love that felt easy, because tough love was what I normalized. Sometimes I think that's what you're doing.”

So, what if I was? I wasn't exactly hurting anyone by pushing people away. Some people thrived in relationships. I was one of the unlucky ones that just didn't. My whole deal was that I liked myself by myself, but she was always right. The guilt was a lot sometimes. I wouldn't even go to Jimmy’s because that was his favorite restaurant, but I just couldn’t work up the courage to sit down and eat there. Not without feeling like I was the reason he did what he did.

“Look, I know that you care, and you just want me to be happy. But Yenory, I retired from my stressful job, bought my second home in a city that I love, and for the first time I'll be holding a published book with my name printed all over its pages. I am happy. See!” I demonstrated with a cheesy full toothed grin, as I put my arms around her.

“Mami, you be creeping me out sometimes, get away from me,” she laughed, playfully pushing me away as we finished off our juices.

“Well, if that's the case, what are you doing this weekend? Me and Avi are headed up to Martha's Vineyard with a few friends. They're having like this Black punk music festival called Noir Noise and given the fact that you used to be our alt queen, I didn't feel right not asking you to come.” The tragic part of her sentence was that I was still their alt queen, but to grow in journalism I had to look conventional. Maybe this weekend was time to do a full unveiling of me back in my final form.

“I did hear about it, but didn't think I'd get y'all to go with me with y'all unadventurous asses. I want to go, but who all gonna be there? You know, I haven't been the warmest having to deal with Avi’s little athlete friends. If it's nothing but meatheads, you can count me in, but on my own time. My folks have a house out there, so I wouldn't have to crash with y'all.” Her lips formed to a pout, grabbing my arm as she pleaded.

"Yeah, but at your place, there won't be a cook. Or drivers. Or massages.”

“Massages, you say?” I interrupted. That was the thing about marrying a pro athlete, her hubby always did trips big.

“Yeah, Avi over planned this weekend, and I promise you, it'll be no athletes. I'm asking Carly, and Avi invited his tattoo artist. I like him, he's really chill. He matches the vibe. Avi told him he could bring some friends, and I'm telling you, if they're as hot as him, you won't be sorry.”

Hmm, a weekend away. A music festival. All-expenses paid and the possibility of meeting some new people. It didn't sound like the worst idea.

“As long as it's not a trap to intentionally set me up, I'm down. I can use a little fun weekend.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Graham

“Hey, I think I want to double it, let's take it from the top again,” Kaihautū’s voice poured from the other side, as I went over the same vocals, this time with more feeling. Over the years I had done my best at converting the spare bedroom in my flat into a home studio.

Somewhere I could flex my creativity while not sacrificing on the craft of my studies. Singing was another thing I’d naturally been good at, but it wasn’t something I bragged about since I had no intention of using it beyond leisure.

It was only a jam session, so the point was just vibes, but like me, my cousin had poured his heart and soul into music and performance, even if it wasn't something he wanted to pursue professionally.

When I first moved here, it was hard navigating the city alone as a foreigner. So, when my cousin moved here from Australia to work at a well-known tattoo shop in the heart of the city, it was like I had a built-in wing man. We were more like brothers despite being a country away. Ironically, we had both grown up in the church, the place where we had learned all the instruments we played now. Plus, it didn't hurt that my cuz made better boil up than me, but I'm afraid I'd take that to the grave with me.

“Hey, I was really feeling the energy on this one,” he admitted, finishing off the last sip from his water bottle. Like me, he wore glasses, but on him they managed to look way cooler. I think it's because Bro had better style. Didn’t hurt that he was ten times smoother.

He was from the city versus my smaller town, and had managed to blend street and alternative flair without looking like a poser. Intricate Tā mokos stretched across both of his arms and one of his legs similar to the ones he had spent hours giving me the old school traditional way. He wasn’t half Pākehā like me, but still managed to have lighter skin. But his hair was just as long as mine, he just chose to wear his hair braided instead of loose.

“Either my man's is really happy or depressed, because lately those are the emotions that fuel your best vocals,” he joked, prompting me to open up.

“Yeah, nah. It's likely just frustration. A few weeks ago, I met this amazing woman. One I was about to break my one date rule for.” His eyes widened incredulously.

“Who the bloody fuck did you meet where you were willing to break your one date rule for?” he asked, fully aware of my zany standards. It was hard recalling this situation, because when I looked back at it, I tried to do everything right and it backfired on me. My only regret was moving too fast, but the energy she was giving put us there. The last thing I wanted to do was lie about my situation.

“Ugh! There was this girl. And she was just… on a whole ‘nother level. Naturally hilarious. Clever. A great conversationalist. Not to mention gorgeous! Everything between us was going so well. Things progressed…really fast,” I recounted, wishing in the moment that I had more discernment.

“We get back to hers and well, you know, things got intimate,” I admitted, as Kaihautū shrugged.

“Well that is a big deal.” Kaihautū had grown up LDS like I did, so he has an understanding for how toxic and puritan the culture could be if you no longer committed to that lifestyle.