Okay…so…I met him at Schmome Schmeepo. He was working there as a second job just like I was in order to supplement the old income. He was technically my subordinate for months but there was just something about him. I was drawn to him. He is Mexican and swarthy and clean cut but I could see a snippet of a tattoo on his chest when at times a button was undone. We must name him and one of my besties calls him my Latin Lovah but we’ll call him Don Juan for a myriad of reasons.
I would check the schedule to see if he was my loader for the night. I would try to chat him up whenever possible and he smelled so fucking good all the time. I was still dating TBone when he started so it was nothing more than distance flirting at first and then….then I found his profile on OKCupid.
I thought ok, well he’s not seeing anyone then and by that time I was not seeing TBone anymore either so I can sort of hook this up maybe??? Could I? Do I chase men? Not usually, but let’s see how this shit goes. I had gotten his number under the guise of needing it for work but one night when I was not the head cashier and had been sent to garden to cover a break, I texted him.
I told him he needed to come out so I could smell him. It was about 3 ½ minutes later that he appeared. We chit chatted and he asked if I was going to smell him and we leaned toward each other. Goddamn, he smelled so good. He always did. We were inches from each other as I sniffed his neck and when I glanced up, our eyes met and it was electric and sexy and close and hot and there were a million things said without saying anything…and right then the bitch on break came walking back out. FUCK!! So we popped apart and headed back into the store talking and grinning.
Later that night, I was manning self-checkout and got my courage up and I texted….”Whattya say we go make out in the parking lot after we close this dump?”
I pressed send with feelings of terror and exhilaration. Then I watched as he came in the store and went back out of the store, pushing carts and laughing with the lumber guys. No answer. No eye contact. So me being me, I tried to lighten the mood with a joke because that’s the sort of idiot I am and texted, “I have gum.”
Still, just nothing. Omg, he read that and now he thinks I’m a whore and OMG I’m technically his boss most nights and holy shit WTF, he doesn’t even know what to say to me, he won’t look at me, omg, omg, omg, omg. How can I get out of here without having to talk to him?
Because self-doubt and panic…that’s my jam. Then I heard him laugh. Quite loudly. I looked over and he had his phone in his hand and he was texting back. My phone beeped and I pulled it out of my pocket to read, “I’m parked right next to you,,,,I’ll see you there.” He puts commas in everything he texts and I decided it was charming.
We got into my truck and started laughing at how ridiculous we were. Then proceeded to do the whole this is my life talk…for about an hour. It finally got quiet between us and he said, “When do we get to the kissing part?”
I smiled and pushed the console up and slid over next to him. It was sublime. The first kiss can be awkward but it was warm and soft and perfect. We kissed and talked and kissed until the windows were fogged up. He told me I was beautiful, that he’d been watching me, that he had wanted me. He told me all sorts of romantic, dashing fabulous things. I started getting sleepy and we realized it was 12:30 in the morning. We texted each other good night after I got home and I drifted to sleep that night on a cloud.
We repeated the same sort of thing several more times over the next 3 weeks. It got very heated but he told me there was no way he was taking me in that truck, that he wanted all of me and we would do it right or not at all. We did more talking and the lay of the land was that he was a year out of a divorce that had left him struggling after he’d made some poor choices. He lived in a mother in law suite at his aunt’s house and so there was no going back there for us. I had the girl child at my house and so unless she was out for the night, he wasn’t spending the night with me.
|The Last Love of Don Juan - Daniel C. Chiriac|
Third week, lo and behold there was a free night and he could come over…and of course motherfucking shark week shows up. We talked it over and he was going to come for dinner and we rented a movie. Just a nice little date and more making out. I cooked us a casual dinner and did the fun part. The makeup and hair and the omg we’re not going anywhere so what do I wear and then he was there. We ate supper, we watched Man of Steel and we made out on my couch like teenagers. He whipped off his shirt and I almost fainted… there it was, a strong perfect chest with a tattoo of his son’s infant footprints. He kissed the breath out of me and we finally stopped and finished the movie and I sent him home with blue balls. What’s the lady version of blue balls?? Motherfucking shark week.
It took another week before he didn’t have his son and I had an empty house. I cooked a meal, I primped and powdered and lotioned and stockings and lingerie and a little black dress. He showed up smelling and looking so good and we ate dinner but the tension and longing was thick. We talked and I began to put the dishes in the sink. He came up behind me and started kissing my neck. I turned and sank into his arms and we made love. You would think after more than a month of heavy petting and anticipation it would have been animal and it was…a little, but it was more sweet and passionate and wonderful than I’d experienced in a long time. There was feeling and adoration and he whispered Spanish in my ear. He could have been telling me directions to the library and I wouldn’t have known or cared.
The discussions that followed soon after had snippets of things that told of his intentions for a relationship and not just messing about. I had the same feelings and couldn’t believe I was experiencing them. We talked about our future plans and he spoke of rebuilding his life and being proud of his choices and I talked of many things and remember him telling me, “Don’t talk like you’ll have to do it all alone.” We fell in love over Christmas. I sewed matching PJ’s for him and his 6 year old. I bought him presents and made him cookies and we spent every minute that we weren’t working or busy trying to be together. There was not as much sex as there was kissing and hugging and talking. It was a real grown up relationship and he treated me like no one has ever treated me. He called me his Queen. I felt as if I were floating on air so much of the time.
The other side of this coin is that he is 21 years clean and sober and attends meetings and counsels others. He takes phone calls at all hours to help people and I loved this about him but this all leads to a lot of self-reflection and all that sensitivity and caring means that though he had a bit of swagger with everyone else…almost a bit of a dickhead sometimes, he was conflicted. A lot. He was conflicted when things went badly and he got behind with his bills. He was conflicted about whether he was ready for our commitment. He was conflicted when he was offered a management position. He was conflicted over everything. All the time. At first, I felt like a wise calming influence to him. I felt useful and like we were part of a partnership where we were helping each other but I soon realized he could justify anything and talk himself into the choice he wanted in the first place most times. I felt like I was useful and part of something great. I felt like this big, strong man that no one saw a weak link in needed ME. I was special enough for him to show his weaknesses and to wise enough for him to bring his burdens. We talked about a home together and our future.
But…those times that we talked and I felt like I’d talked him off the ledge and he would text me later and tell me how grateful he was for me in his life. I clung to those. I clung to the moments that we stole kisses in parking lots, the times that we finally got my house to ourselves and had sweet, quiet time together, the times he looked at me and said, “Why are you so beautiful?”
I would find out soon enough though that I should have listened to the voice in my head that said, “Can you spend your whole life supporting and building someone up that needs this much validation? Of course you can. You love him.” I quieted that bitch. She’s a smart bitch, though.