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“That’s not what slipped.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“You’re leaving yourself wide open, partner.”
She’s inching closer, and I’m too embarrassed to study her. The mid-September night air is welcome, cooling my burning skin. I’m enjoying the temporary snap of fall before Texas weather rears its ugly head and goes back to only one of two seasons—summer or winter.
“So, it was really your first time?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I ask why you waited?”
“Long story.”
“I’m not going anywhere. And I don’t know your name, and I can’t really see much of your face. I’m pretty sure that raspberry Bacardi I guzzled has made it impossible to identify you in a lineup, so this is as safe a confession as you’re going to get.”
Finally, I glance her way. She’s right, it’s too dark, even close up to get a clear view, the bushes block out all of the light of the back porch. She’s wearing dark cowboy boots and a dress, that much I can make out, but the rest is pretty much a mystery. Though I admit, her scratchy voice is appealing. Blowing out a breath, I decide why the hell not? I could use some perspective, even if it’s from a drunken stranger.
“It was my first time because my ex-girlfriend made me wait three and a half years, only to give her virginity to some random.”
“You should have quit her year two. She was never going to give it to you.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“You’re still hung up on her?”
“No, I’ve just been busy. I’m in a band, it takes up a lot of my time.” It’s mostly true. The rest of that truth is that it’s not exactly easy for a guy like me to get the girl because of the Troy’s of this world. He seems to be the standard. Even when presented with the opportunity, it never feels right, and I’ve been hesitant to pull the trigger. I’ve been holding out for something other than a drunken hookup, until tonight.
“Would I have heard of your band?”
“Maybe. We sell out every Saturday.”
“Hmm, maybe I should get a better look at you, just in case I’m getting confessions from someone famous.”
“Nope, not in the rules.”
“We have rules?”
“Yes. This is confession. No faces, dates, or names.”
“Okay, so,” she says, plucking at some grass, “you dedicated yourself to a heartless bitch who never delivered?”
“Basically, yeah. But that’s not the worst part.”
“No?”
“I really loved her. I know it’s stupid to think you’ll stay with your first love, but I really thought she was worth it.”
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, well, learn and grow.”
“Yeah, but it still sucks.”
“I don’t disagree,” I rub at the place on my neck, uncomfortable with what she can painstakingly see in the pitch dark that I can’t. “Let’s turn the mic around, what happened with the dick?”
“He’s just not for me. In the last couple of weeks, I kept ticking off a list of things I didn’t like about him while we were on dates. And you heard the rest.”
