My throat is tight. My larynx feels like is has a hand around it, just squeezing. I think it's because it's saving my heart from just shattering.
I've meant to write about the Dreadlocked Tattooed Stoner for a while... he's been around for abooout... 2 years now? That seems insane to me. So much of what we've been through feels like yesterday. I want to write about the good times, about all he's done to get me to open up, be free, take chances. Right now, though... the 15 year old in me wants to call all my friends and yell, "Can you believe he did THIS?!" And then spill all the tea. And message his new girl on social media.
I realize these are not good instincts. Nothing good can come from acting on them.
I feel like even acting on my impulse to send an olive branch in his direction was a stupid thing to do.
But at least I got my answer, right? In a "New phone, who dis?" text, but I GOT IT.
And I'm still choking.
********************
It's hard to be in my apartment because he is everywhere. On the couch, on the kitchen table (my favorite), in my bed on that first night that turned into two days...
I am hyper-aware I have arrested development in this area. Being naked with someone has never come easily to me. When I have gotten brave enough to do it, I managed all smoke and mirrors, darkness and sheets, positions and hiding places to somehow get the guy I was with to completely forget I was fat. Because I always thought I tricked them into being naked with me.
Every. Single. Time.
Until DTS.
He looked at me through glass, saw me through the camera's lens as I shed old ideas about myself during the vodcast I co-host alllll about being plus-sized in this world. I talked about being single a LOT. Especially since My Co-Host was married and I wanted to KNOW ALL THE THINGS. There was a freedom to being live on the air and sending these ideas about myself floating away on waves where they didn't have to be buried deep inside any more. I could even LAUGH about it, which really was extraordinary and freeing. And DTS was in the control room, watching so closely and carefully at such a safe distance.
I was genuinely oblivious to anyone being attracted to me at this time. Just without a clue. We talked about often during the show. It was like I had actual blinders on. Any vibes were not getting through my force field. Which is whyyy when My Co-Host first brought DTS up to me, I was thrown.
Outside in the Studio Parking Lot, Night:
MCH: DTS likes you.
Me: Whaaaa?! Why do you think that?
MCH: Didn't you hear what he said?
Me: Hear WHAT? What are you TALKing about?!
MCH: You really didn't hear? At all?!
Me: Noooo...
MCH: He said he thought your green eyes were pretty. I thought it was weird you didn't say anything...
Me: Are you SERIOUS? When did this happen?!
MCH: After the show, at the step and repeat!
Scene.
Guys. I was not kidding; I literally heard not a word that DTS said to me. Shut. Down. So now I feel a little awkward because, although this is a passion project, it felt like a job, albeit, a loosey-goosey office where people smoke weed and pop open a beer but we took it VERY SERIOUSLY. I didn't want to seem like I was an office hussy. I know, I know, insane in hindsight, but I kept my cards to my chest. But I couldn't help but taking DTS in in a different way. I'd start to linger on the tattoos on his forearms or how his collarbone popped out of the stretched out collar of his well-worn tee, or the difference in his dreads when they were down and flopping over his light brown eyes or pulled back and showed off his well-kept full beard that framed his beautiful lips. I felt his eyes linger on me when we recorded; I caught glances at him during commercial breaks, and when I made him laugh through the glass...well, that was as close to girl-wood as I could get.
Then a few weeks later I had THIS conversation with MCH:
Outside Studio Parking Lot, Night:
MCH: DTS wants to fuck you.
Me: *spits out water mid-swallow* WHAAAT?!
MCH: He wants to fuck you.
Me: You have lost your mind!
MCH: Did you NOT see what he did?!
Me: OBviously not!
MCH: While you were changing your shoes, and talking about how tense you were and saying that you "just needed someone to go down on you for an hour" so you could "relax"... he totally raised his hand. HIGH. VERY HIGH.
Me: SHUT. IT.
MCH: He did
Me: He did NOT.
MCH: He sure did! You didn't see?!
Me: NO.
MCH: You reeeeally have a problem. (Beat.) And could tooootally hit that.
And, scene.
My mind was going a million miles a minute. Is this a THING? A thing I could DO?! DTS was hot. It wasn't about that. It was about him knowing all this stuff about me, just saying all these things and someone seeing me, the me with the guards down, admitting she was fat, and pretty sexless, and stunted in so many ways because of hating myself... and he still wanted to sleep with me? That was very, very hard to accept as true. I decided to use my old-school tactics- I would woo him with obvious gestures!
His birthday was the next week. With the help of a friend who was in town visiting, I got him birthday cake as a surprise. He definitely was. He seemed really embarrassed. When we were alone he asked, "Did MCH's husband get this? You didn't get this." I went full Philly on him, "I fuggin' got it. It's from ME." He laughed and believed me, but he was still buzzed from the night before so who the fuck knows what was actually happening.
The next week we had to pre-tape because there was a huge party to celebrate marijuana becoming legal in California and all of the shows on the network were invited. Lots of music, free booze and edibles to go round. It was a rooftop party, and it was beautiful weather, so I went in a skimpy black lace skirt with a slouchy, off the shoulder black tee and my thigh high, black platform stiletto boots, that were as rock-n-roll as you can get. I had never, ever dressed this way at the studio; DTS had only seen me in cute vintage dresses and let's just say... more covered up. I felt hot. And literally went just to see him.
Had to walk up three and a half flights in fuck-me heels which ain't easy but once on to the roof, the view of the clear Hollywood sky was amazing and the party was so lit, it made the burn in my quads worth it. I scanned the room for friends and my eyes landed on DTS who was directly in front of me, leaning on the far wall, in a very sexy put-together rocker look, tattoos out, looking HELLA foine. I tried to be cool (CUZ YOU KNOW THAT I LOVE TO DO THAT) and avoided him to find friends deep in the crowd. Tables of free weed products were abound, the bar was open and the cover band was loud. Everyone was having a great time. I talked to more people on the network than I ever had in the 10 weeks prior; the vibe was loose and I definitely was feeling myself. And not at all feeling like this was a "work" event.
Eventually, MCH dragged DTS over to where a crowd of us were hanging and he and I quickly were next to each other, privately chatting. I don't remember what we talked about exactly, but I know I felt free and flirty and was definitely giving him a hard time. Several dudes interrupted us and were close-talking, high and drunk and well-meaning but DTS and I just kept looking at each other while some guy called MCH & I "an inspiration" and swore he was gonna do his sports vodcast one day soon.
Now, I got there late because of a survival job, and had to park far. Well, LA far. Like, two and a half long blocks! Ha. And my people knew this and were talking about wrapping it up and wanting to walk me to my car. The party had spilled onto several floors of the building and I guess everyone was somewhere else but I thought they ditched me. I SWEAR. So, I batted my smoky eyes at DTS, "Could you walk me to me car? And more importantly, down the friggin' stairs?!" He gave one of those quick throaty laughs and said, "Of course."
He took my arm old-timey style and literally made sure I did not break my neck on the way down; once we were on Santa Monica Blvd., we strolled, still touching, hands eventually intertwining. We got deep quickly. MCH had given him a talk about coming to the show too messed up to do a good job; I told you, we were verrrry serrrious about it! He felt bad about it and wanted to be better. I told him that our plan was to take the show as far as we could and wanted to take the people who made it work with us and that I wanted him on that list. Then we got personal. Then we got sexual. He made some quiet comment about taking me behind the vintage car wash we were passing by "in those boots." I slapped his arm for being cheeky but secretly wished that we would. But we didn't. I pass by that car wash often and have regrets that we never did.
We made it to my car and he surprised me. Because I thought we were headed for a messy make-out sesh on the hood of my car like a White Snake video. But he held back. He took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead. My body was on fire and he did the forehead kiss?! I thought maybe I made up everything in my mind. No forehead kiss had ever meant good things to come for me, EVER.
But there was something in his smirk, a glimmer in his eyes that told me he was holding back because he wanted to prolong something, not avoid something.
As I swung my legs covered in leather into my car and watched his swagger drifting back down Santa Monica, I thought, "Oh, it's on, Mother Fucker."
