Have you heard of Mortified? Before I take all the credit or all the blame, I blame Mortified Nation for my undoing (I’ll get to that part later). I’m a huge fan! I’ve been to see the show 3x’s in the past year. Real people just like you and me stand on a stage and read aloud their journals from middle school, high school and sometimes, college. The show is gut-busting funny and cringe-worthy. And the best part about it, for me, was the realization that we are all having the same human experience. Especially in the teen years. Boys want pussy. And girls want a boyfriend. Unless the boys want dick and the girls want to see what it would be like to kiss a girl, there’s that, too. But, ultimately, we’re all unsure of ourselves in those years and we’re all angst-y and angry and depressed and we’re sure nothing will ever get better.
After the 3rd show I was thinking, man, I wish I had kept a journal in high school! I decided to dig around the basement even though I was certain I hadn’t actually written anything down. But guess what? I had, indeed, written some stuff down and it is pretty perfect Mortified material. Well most of it is, minus one special entry. The one entry being too explicit, too x-rated, too romantic trashy novel-type piece from college.
It was literally just a piece of notebook paper ripped out of a spiral notebook. It wasn’t dated, but the memory was clear. It was written late in the Spring semester of 1998. I was 22. I had gone with my friend, Ashley*, to a “baseball” party. Parties always seemed to be categorized by major or sport played. The parties we usually attended were PJ (photo journalism), Theater or The Stoner House along with an occasional frat party here and there. So here we were going to a “baseball” party and I knew no one except the friend I’d come with. I’m not sure how we ended up there. I think Ashley had met one of the guys who was having the party in a class. Ashley and I were definitely flirty, boy-crazy and very much into discovering our sexual selves… sometimes even together. Before that night I’d always had some Catholic guilt and worked at “keeping my numbers low.” For me, this only applied to intercourse. Blow jobs, oral sex, fingering and dry humping were all totally cool with me. I think that night I subconsciously decided that “keeping my numbers low” was just a way of fooling myself into believing that I was still pure and chaste, but why?! Most likely to protect my heart, too. I decided to forgo the heart and fully give into my primal instincts. (Way more fun!)
So there I was crammed into someone’s apartment with 50 other people, standing against a wood-paneled wall when I saw a guy across the room towering over everyone else it seemed. From my mind’s eye we were the two tallest people in the room. I’m 5’9″, so I doubt that’s an accurate perception. But he’s 6’4″, so he was above the crowd to me. The last guy I’d dated before this party was 6’5″, so I’d come to realize that I love taller than average guys. Being 5’9″ for as long as I can remember I had never felt petite. I’d always felt like an amazon woman which made me feel less than feminine and unpretty. I never felt like I could be described as “cute” and I didn’t feel like a super model either. I didn’t have long blonde straight hair, I had long curls that had been described as “what color is your hair?” “Is it auburn, brown, blond or all?” And I had booty but no bust. So seeing a guy taller than the rest eyeing me from across the room was curious and very exciting.
He was not only tall, but dark and handsome, too. He had dark, thick, not straight hair. Like maybe if he grew it out, he’d have curls, but it was cut very short. His eyes were dark. And when he smiled, it was all over. His smile revealed a perfectly imperfect gap between his front teeth. I melted. I absolutely love(d) it! He zeroed in on me from across the room and made a beeline toward me. I think he said something like “who are you?” or “I need to know you.” Whatever he said, it was flattering, but his actions were even more so. It was like a powerful magnet had pulled us together. My journal entry revealed that “within minutes of meeting I knew it was inevitable that we would have wild and crazy uninhibited fucking.”
We started talking and he was touching my hair and kissing my neck and very soon he had me by the hand leading me to his room. I remember we had to kick someone else who was just a party-goer out of the room. Up to that point I didn’t even know that he lived in the apartment. I remember sitting on his bed and talking about Whiskeytown, a band we both love. Music has always been a measure of compatibility for me. It’s a huge turn on to find someone who likes the same music as me. But that night didn’t need any help, I was already completely sunk. The music thing was just a sweet bonus. We also talked about baseball, after all it was a “baseball” party. He was on the baseball team and was leaving in a month to go to MLB try-outs. I was leaving in a few weeks, too, to go work at a theatre in New England. The night couldn’t have brought together more seemingly different people. But our interests and passions didn’t seem to play into our physical attraction. This was based purely on an undeniable physical compatibility. It was happening. The talking was over.
Finally we started kissing. There was no adjustment period. It was one of the best kisses I’ve ever had (and he said one of the best he’d had, too.) No awkwardness or teeth knocking. Just soft lips in perfect unison with just the right amount of tongue on both sides. So perfect. Very quickly our clothes started coming off. He made me feel so sexy and confident. Up to that point I felt like I’d always been the one pursuing someone which is a vulnerable position to be in when you’re not sure what the other person thinks of you. But that night I didn’t have any doubts. He pulled off my panties and laid back. I crawled over him and lowered myself onto his face. There’s a first time for everything! I was so wet and it felt so amazing. He licked and sucked my pussy for awhile. I wrote,” When he was finished I straddled him and kissed his wet mouth. Licking the edges of his mouth to taste myself. I tasted so good.”
Next it was his turn! I unzipped and pulled down his pants. His huge cock poked out of his boxers. It was so big! I pulled down his boxers and took him into my mouth. It was so big that it was almost uncomfortable. I felt like I was going to choke. I licked, sucked, rubbed his cock for awhile, I knew I had to have it inside of me. I couldn’t wait. I think it had been several months, maybe even a year since I’d last had sex. I was so tight. I straddled him and slowly guided his huge cock into my wet pussy. It hurt a little bit going in. We fucked in unison, hips in perfect timing. I rode him hard. It was incredible. I grew tired, but still wanted more. He picked me up and flipped me over onto my stomach, ass in the air. He came in from behind and fucked me hard. My head slamming into the pillow. We fucked for what felt like an eternity until he came. We fell asleep with the smell of sex and alcohol and our sticky bodies stuck together. The last line in my journal entry reads “I love penises! Okay, I can’t write about this anymore without masturbating. Gotta go for now.”
Finding the journal entry stirred me. Never before had I written down an experience like that and hadn’t written anything so descriptive since. It was a special night that even 18 years later I could remember so well. I started thinking about him. Many times over the years I’d fantasized about that night. Wishing I could recreate it. I wondered if he remembered, too. I’d Googled him before, but never tried to connect. I figured I was probably one in a million. I doubted that “one of the best kisses of his life” still held true for him.
I found him on Facebook and Instagram. From what I could put together he had a wife and at least one kid. I decided to write him a message, well more like a thank you note. “Thanks for one of the best nights of my life 18 years ago.” And then I went on to compliment his beautiful wife and cute kid and tell him about my family. It was flirty, but innocent at the same time. And it became my own undoing.