I have no idea if I have told you all about my friend Brandon.
Brandon and I went to high school together, and by that I mean, we were in the same building. We were not friends. We didn’t talk. In fact, he was pretty much a hippie-dead-head kid and I was school-spirit-maker-dance-team-captain-newspaper-writer.
About 3 years ago, Brandon sent me a message out of the blue on Facebook just seeing what was up, how was I? After exchanging several messages, we swapped phone numbers and have been texting ever since.
Some weeks or months, we talk alot, sometimes on the phone. And sometimes, we’ll go months without talking, without a grudge, but when we talk again, all is well. Like most guy-girl friendships, I think there has been a small attraction there. We flirt sometimes, and we do get a little jealous when the other person has landed a date.
A few months ago, Brandon sent me a text saying he was going to be in my area December 4, we should have lunch. Brandon, a sound technician, travels with bands on tour, setting up their…set.
I immediately said yes, of course! And then I was just a little nervous. I hadn’t seen this person in 10 years, we’d only talked on the phone a handful of times. Would we get along? Will he be cute? Will we kiss?
I sent him a text asking, is this lunch or “lunch”?
He didn’t know what the fuck I was talking about, so I assumed I was a giant slut and went along with my week.
In the week leading up to his visit, he said he was excited to see me, but we really hadn’t nailed down plans and I was starting to freak. The drive to get to him was an hour and a half, so if we were going to be drinking, I’d have to figure out a plan for the night, etc. Sigh.
I took a friend’s advice and just asked him what he wanted to do?
“Drink, eat, be fat,” he said. No help.
“When do you want me to come down?” I asked.
“Whenever you’d like,” he said. NO HELP.
I finally laid it out. “I have a meeting Tuesday night until 8:30, so I can meet you around 10, or I can come Wednesday morning, but I’ll have to bolt around 7 wednesday evening.
“That seems silly to come down Wednesday and then leave. Come Tuesday.” He told me his hotel address, and that was that.
I assumed this was an invitation to stay the night, but since it wasn’t laid out nice and neat, I was still confused. Either way, I packed a small bag and made the trip Tuesday night.
After getting lost and probably getting a toll bridge fine, I made it to his hotel and was ready for a stiff drink.
He looked so cute. And tall.
He said he knew some girls from work that found a cool bar with a band. So we grabbed a cab and headed that way. The girls were nice, the music was great, and the alcohol was flowing.
“We haven’t seen each other in 10 years!” I said as we cheered to shots of whiskey.
The girls left, as did most of the other bar patrons, and we sat at the bar trying to finish our beers. It was almost 2:30 am.
Mid conversation, he leaned in a kissed me. And it was a good one.
We took our beers to go, and hopped into a cab, where we proceeded to make out.
We got back to the hotel room and I recall lots of rolling around, and perhaps an attempt at sex, but the real stuff came in the morning.
This scenario is something I’d toyed with for months, even years, perhaps. If we ever met up, would there be a spark? After many conversations with Gizzy, I really wanted to just go with it. I didn’t want to plague myself with my usual fears of sex, or paranoia about how many people I’ve slept with, or whatever. This was someone that I’ve been talking to for years, and who knows when we’ll see each other again.
But while I was thinking, and pretty much assuming we would have sex, he SAYS he didn’t. Over lunch the next day, he said he was really shocked, yet very proud to wake up next to me with no clothes on.
“I did not think the visit would be like THAT!” he said.
“You didnt?” I asked. I didn’t know if he was just trying to be kind.
Either way, I had a great time. I told him it couldn’t be another 10 years before we see each other again.