The Boy Who’s Worth The One Night Stand

I sit here, in my own cold queen-sized bed, alone. Unintentionally catching the stale mixed smell of your cigarette and Jameson. But oh, was it so worth it. This is familiar and makes me feel cozy. But if I am being honest with myself, it is just a reminder that I was vulnerable to a person I met just last night who I will never see again. First time for everything right?

After a long-term relationship, everyone goes about their healing in unusual ways. No method is “better” than the other; it is just different and unique for that individual. For me, my long-term relationship occurred during the time that society exclaims all young women are supposed to be by themselves and grow on their own. College is a funny thing, when you have fun, go out, experiences turn into experimenting; but then, you are stamped as a campus slut. But when you are in a serious committed relationship then you are also frowned upon and labeled as a prude.

Double standard? Let’s save that for another article, shall we. For me, I thrived for independence, after being verbally degraded and belittled for years; there is a spark in you that eventually dies. What did I do? I went to a bar in my pint-sized college town, by myself.

And there it was. He was the guy every girl looked at and wanted right then. The strong hands, handsome jawline, piercing blue eyes that had a extraordinary flicker when you were behind your stage lights singing on your rickety wooden bar stool. This was the first time I have seen you and the first time I have been in that dive bar for that matter. I was not one of the girls pleading for your attention standing in the front row singing at the top of my lungs. I was purely sitting in the back dark corner just trying to be invisible and blend in with my Vodka Sprite (two-limes, please) falling for a guy that I have never even spoken a word to. 

After you were finished serenading and swooning every girl in this bar, you kindly looked towards me, possibly confused on why I was sitting alone in the smoky bar, ordered your drink and stroke up a pleasant, and what I thought at the time, innocent conversation.

Innocent words exchanged and in turn caused the belting trio of groupies in the front to turn swiftly and glare at the simple blonde girl sitting in the back who had stolen all opportunity for them to be the one he takes home. Is it okay for me to say I craved attention like this from a stranger and never felt like that in the four years of my committed relationship? How can a complete outsider make you feel like the world has stopped turning and everything is in slow motion?

Next thing I know you had your coarse hands on my cool skin of my lower back that no one has touched for a year and were leading me out to your typical Texas truck. At this point, there was no questioning what was going to happen, and I was completely enamored with the idea and grinning slightly as I looked down at the dark pavement.

Uncomfortable laughs and jokes turned into sweet slow kisses. Your fingers gently running through my hair allowed for goose bumps to arise in parts of my body I did not even knew could get them. Your lips against mine were strong but not forceful, sweet but not quite virtuous. After kicking off the hotel sheets we laid there silently and I explained to you that I am not this kind of girl and have never done anything like this before.

His lips curled so perfectly when he smiled and said, “I wish I could say the same to you.” Part of my newly mended heart was cracked open just a slight, but in no way was it a blow. He is beautiful, every girl’s modern-day Romeo who instead of romantically exclaiming from a balcony is allowing us to think he is looking and singing directly at us from a stage filled with empty shot glasses and cracked peanut shells.

Minutes ticked by and compiled into mute hours. I waited until your breathing became heavy, slow, and steady just like how your body fell on mine not too long ago.

I deliberately rolled to the left side of the bed to check the time and let my roommate know not to worry, although it was too late for that. I gently felt my way through the darkness of the muggy hotel room found my shoes and quadrupled checked I had everything. As I cracked open the door, I faintly wanted to hear your raspy voice crack and say to come back to bed, but nothing but silent air stood between you and I. Since I was not able to say goodnight and goodbye, this is it. And boy, were you worth it. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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