I’m Not A Hookup Kind Of Girl

I told him I didn’t like to hook up.

I told him I wasn’t going to be that girl.

Because we all know how it ends. When the nights over and the sun has come up, everything is different. That feeling of awkwardness and the worry that gnaws away at every part of you as you wonder what the other person is thinking. The thoughts running through your own head as you get dressed, or gather all your things together. You can’t help but wonder how you look right now, is your make-up smeared across your face? Do you have bad breath? What do you smell like?

And then there’s the “what next?” The so… moment. What do you want? What do they want?

I met this person at a party; I wasn’t interested in the least. He really wasn’t my type, not to mention he lived so far away. I really want a relationship; one with someone who can have philosophical conversations, who I have chemistry with, who I’m comfortable with, and most importantly, who I can trust.

We started talking, and actually hit it off a bit. I happened to be going to the town this guy lived in the day after the party. He was drinking when we were talking and I mentioned I’d be visiting the town for a few days while staying with a mutual friend of ours, figuring he wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning.

I was wrong.

A Facebook friend request and some coercing led to me agreeing to go see a movie with him. I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t get involved, that I’d just enjoy his company and go back to my friends after the movie was over.

He picked me up outside my friend’s place. I hadn’t told them who I was going with because she’d already warned me he was a bit of a player. We talked on the way there and by the time we got there we had both decided we didn’t want to see the film and went to get coffee instead. This progressed to ten-pin bowling and ultimately back to his to watch a movie. I knew his flat mates quite well from before, so I figured it was safe enough.

Again I promised myself I wouldn’t kiss him, and as soon as the movie ended I’d ask him to take me straight back.

And then I felt the chemistry.

We were just lying together, watching Juno. Timidly, he wrapped an arm around me. Tenderly, he kissed me on the cheek.

Breathless, I felt a spark. This is the first time I have ever felt a spark. My body shook. I held back until the movie was 95% finished. He was snuggled against me, periodically kissing me on my forehead or in the crook of the neck. I had explained I didn’t like hooking up, he knew I’d never had sex. But still, I knew he felt that same spark. I turned towards him. Gently he caressed my chin, lifting my head to his.

He felt the shudder that ran through my body; I felt the smile on his lips.

Dammit.

I never slept with him. And when he dropped me back at 3am I felt okay, I felt in control. I said to him in the car, I know this is the part where I’ll never see you again. All he could say is “we’ll see.” Weirdly I was fine with the acceptance that I’d never see him again. Well, that was until the next morning when he text me asking to meet up with him again that day, to just hang out. That’s when my hopes started rising. This was a new experience for me. We got along quite well, we could hold a decent conversation, we listened to the same music, we had fun together, and he was publicly affectionate.

When he dropped me off, though, I knew that this would be the end of things. He told me to text him in the morning. At this stage I still felt okay.

It wasn’t until he didn’t text me back that I realized that I’d stuffed up again; that I should never have agreed to hang out with him the day after.

I began to feel physically sick. I really, really, really hadn’t wanted a hookup.

Again I have promised myself I won’t do it again. I want to be in a place where I feel comfortable there will be a day after, and a day after that. I want to be with that person that’ll make me feel good all the time, not just for one day.

Because we all know how it ends.