Like a bunny.

Um. Heh. So, I guess this post should have a warning, too. How about this: if you get skeezed out by descriptions of making out, groping, or nakedness--dear reader, move on.

Bought but have not worn yet: I need more bad-assery in my life.

I spent the afternoon moseying around one end of downtown, the older end with my favorite used record store and the punkish thrift store and the no-fuss-just-good-food restaurants and the bars that look like they're hung over in the sunlight and the good grocery store and...yes, and BF's condo, but his car wasn't there so I'm guessing he went to watch the stupid football game at his mom's again. When it's a noon game, that turns into an all-day thing because she's a really good cook. I miss her pulled pork.

Anyway, my plan was to keep occupied until dinner, eat at the student union, then dress up a bit to go see a play by our theater department (free with student ID, hey hey). I figured that, plus some boring-ass homework, would get me through Saturday.
Weekends can yawn so wide. I'm afraid of feeling it as keenly as I did freshman year before I made friends (it took awhile) and/or started dating BF.

I was watching an online back episode of Greek (I go through them in a chunk every six months or so as part of my life cycle) about 5:45pm when Bluetooth called.
He called. I had given up. Nobody actually has to write a management science paper on Friday...right?
He wanted to know 1. if I was hungry (yeah) 2. was Chinese food okay? (yeah) and 3. how fast could I get ready? (About 10 minutes. 20 if I have to find clean pants, but fuck that. Pants don't get dirty.)
One sweater-changing, face-scrub, hair-brushing, shoes-slipping-into later, I met him and two of his friends (Also DJ, an electronica guy up at the station; and Polar Bear Shirt Girl, who may or may not be Also DJ's girlfriend. I don't think they've decided yet) in his car next to the honors dorm and we went to dinner.

Okay, stop here for a second. Why did I agree to go with him (them) so quickly?
Because I was bored. Because I wanted to figure how we felt about each other. Because, dammit, I was going to get a makeout session out of this weekend if I could.

A double not-date at a Chinese buffet with people I don't know made me go "Really?" in my head a couple times, but the food was good and the conversation was interesting (if not completely inclusive) and it was An Experience to file away.
After dinner we went back to campus, Bluetooth pulled over into a tiny vacant lot, and we just stood around for a little while until everybody else made leaving gestures and I said, "Do you guys want to hang out some more? I mean, I don't really have anything else to do tonight," and it's not even 8pm, I silently added.
Shrugs. "Uh, sure. We can go back to [apartment Bluetooth and Also DJ share], if that's cool." Also DJ's show is on 10pm to midnight Saturdays, so he couldn't do anything radical, but we did watch an episode of The Walking Dead downstairs on their complex's bigscreen while squished together on the squishy couch.

We didn't really have to squish together. It was a decent-size couch for the four of us. But squish we did on my end. And Bluetooth started poking me.
Poking me. That triggered an unnerving sense of deja vu. That was BF's opening move. Also a headlock.
Most of the way through the episode, Also DJ had to split and PBS Girl went with him. So Bluetooth and I watched the rest. Alone. Still squished. And when it was over we stared at the screen.
"I don't want a relationship right now."
Me, either!
"So what do you want?"
Someone to...hang out with.
"Someone to have fun with?"
Sure. Yes.
"So like what kind of fun?"
Well.
"Want a hug? Here, let's hug."
It wasn't so much of a hug as it was a long, trembly cling of two people slightly startled by its intensity but not surprised it happened. It was a makeout without lips. I noticed how fast his heart was beating and how twitchy his muscles felt--he wasn't relaxed at all. And then lips became involved.
I wish I had some profound way of describing kissing. I don't. It just feels good.
We went back upstairs and made out on his bed and started peeling clothes off and I said I don't have my own birth control so I didn't want to go all the way and he fingered me and I touched him with my hands and my lips and we talked--at one point I was straddled on top of him and he asked, "So what makes me better for this than Mike?"--we talked about life, religion and our general lack thereof, our relationships we've both recently gotten out of, brith control, Ultimate Life Goals. And then he started poking my side with his erection and we jerked off together.
The whole experience was warm and fluid and mutual and purely enjoyable, to my delight and secret amazement. He took an imaginary picture of my vagina with a little frame of his fingers. Click. He called it pretty in passing.
We chatted at each other while taking turns in the shower, and then he showed me pictures from when he spent a month in Israel and then we got dressed and he drove me back and I slept in my own bed.

I didn't feel weird, awkward, or slutty. That was exactly what I wanted out of this weekend.
I don't have any sort of urge to contact him. I think I'll be okay if I never see him or talk to him again. He will be remembered fondly, Velcro shoes or no.
Good talk, Bluetooth. Good talk.