Halloween was wonderful. Several nights of Mr. Mister… drunk crazy nights, but lovely nights. I was girl-scout again and again… in my knee-high Doc Martins, brown sweater tights, and authentic vintage girl-scout uniform a girlfriend had lent me. I felt wonderful, sexy. I made cookies and handed them out at bars. I didn’t worry about feeling out of place because I was playing a character the entire time…
The last dress up night, Mr. Mister offered to take me home. I remember him driving drunk, recklessly reversing back half of my street for a parking space, when I reminded him that he had to park on the right direction or get a ticket. The exaggerated movement of the car felt like we were a cartoon for a moment… and the moment continued as I jumped out of the car and skipped like a school girl, up the sidewalk and into my apartment building. I could hear him smirking and admiring the show I was putting on… It was not for him, but I was basking in the fact that he was entertained and attracted by the display of my true nature… the authentic self that I was usually too ashamed to let shine through.
In my apartment, I shuffled around in my kitchen, in search of a snack for Mr. Mister. He sat in my dining room, watching… Then the next thing I knew, he had grabbed me, spun me around, and pulled me into his lap, kissing me with such abandon that the chair tipped over and we tumbled onto the floor. Undeterred from our lustful groping, he tore my sweater tights. I don’t know how that evening did not end in intercourse. It was just innocent enough, just filthy enough to be perfect.
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…Many beautiful nights- of a youth that I had postponed knowing until he came into my life. As it happened, I took it for granted. I reminded myself, “This is it. This IS the relationship. It is what is happening now, and you’re missing it…”
Happily feeding him french toast at three o’clock in the morning, watching the stars in the sky disappear as birds serenaded in the sun, occasionally indulging in small inhales of his Marlboro Lights… All I could see was the other women he wanted to pursue, how I must have been lacking somehow… I began mourning for us long before it was over.
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I won’t say too much about her… Just that- I saw her chasing Mr. Mister, and I wondered if that was how I had seemed at some point. He did not see her coming. Men rarely do.
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Despite our fun, Mr. Mister still seemed to be pushing me to explore… and he was clearly doing some exploring of his own. So, one night, after a show, I asked my one superficial crush, Mr. Spectacle to go have a piece of pie with me- What else is there to ask a guy to do after midnight that doesn’t sound like an indecent proposition?
Initially he said yes… Then he said he was going to another bar to see another band. ”Rain-check,” I smiled, trying to not show my disappointment. However, a moment later I was tapping on his shoulder, politely asking if I could meet him there. He agreed.
I knew he was on a bike. So, I went to catch a bus across town. I had taken the train into the city and assumed there would be a bus back to the burbs late night.
On my way to the bus stop, mutual friends of Spectacle and I found me. A younger couple, silly and sweet; I tried not to seem anxious. The guy inquired quite unexpectedly, “So, are you and Spectacle going to make out tonight?”
“What? I don’t know. I don’t think so-” I blushed.
At the bar, Spectacle bought me a beer. We made small talk.
When 2 AM came and everyone began to wander home, I told him I was walking back to center city, where I was sure I could catch a bus. He was hesitant to leave me on my own and walked with me, pushing his bike. Perhaps it was obvious that I did not want the evening to be over, but I really didn’t have anything in mind beyond that walk. I would not have known what to imagine.
Spectacle began interrogating me for the dirt that I had been avoiding during small talk. What was going on with me? What kind of expectations did I have?
I told him I didn’t have any expectations. I was going through a confusing mess with loving someone who didn’t love me. In this case, my emotional detachment would be an asset. I knew Spectacle was trying to be a gentleman and not get involved with a woman with feelings.
We arrived at City Hall, covered with tents, Occupy Philadelphia protesters. I had seen it on television, but being there in person, seeing the shanty town for the first time with my own eyes, I was astounded.
The next part was a jumbled mess of words. His being skeptical I would find a bus home. My insistence that I could take care of myself and didn’t need him to worry about my transportation or my feelings… Then he was kissing me. Sparks. As we came apart, neither of us said anything for a moment, as if we were savoring the flavor still in our mouths.
He still had his hand around the small of my back, “Should I get a taxi?”
I heard the words, but I couldn’t process them quickly enough. What did that mean? ”Uh, uh-huh. Yeah.”
As he locked his bike up outside City Hall and waved a cab, my mind flooded with thoughts. I am going to his place for the night. Does that mean we’re going to have sex? Can’t we just sit and watch cartoons? Is it too late to change my mind? Do I want to change my mind?
At his place he gave me a tour. He gave me a t-shirt and boxers to wear. We brushed our teeth. We crawled into bed. It almost felt completely innocent… Until it wasn’t.
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The next time Mr. Mister asked me if I had made out with anyone new lately… We were sitting on my couch, watching cartoons. When I answered honestly and succinctly, he paused for a few minutes. Then he put down his half finished glass of iced tea, said goodnight, and walked out the door.
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