261. Tickled

"Thank you again for the pictures," Cayden said the next morning. "You look so sexy in them."

He pulled me against him and I clung to him koala-style. The sheets were tangled at my feet but I didn't care to fix them.

"Thank you for the necklace," I said. "It's really unique. You did well."

I poked his side to make him squirm. I knew every single one of his ticklish spots. Unfortunately, he knew mine, too. And I absolutely hated to be tickled. People always think that since you're laughing, you're having a good time. But really, when people tickle me I just want to punch them in the mouth. There's nothing fun or funny about the possibility of peeing your pants or farting. I take that back, there are a lot of funny things about those two incidences, as long as they don't happen to me. Cayden knew my stance on tickling, so he kept it to a minimum.

"Don't even think about it," I warned as I felt his fingers start to drum at my side.

He laughed and held my hand instead.

"What time do you think it is?" I asked, too lazy to reach for my phone.

I could hear a few people already awake downstairs, so my guess was that it was after 9 am. I tried to smell for freshly made pancakes, but I didn't catch a whiff of it, which meant my dad was either still in bed or at his computer getting work done. Dad loves to make a big fancy breakfast when everyone's in town.

"I don't know," he said. "I'd guess around 8 or 9? I've been awake or a couple hours. This jet lag messes up my sleeping schedule every time."

I felt like I could doze off again with his arms wrapped around me, but I could hear his stomach growling underneath his skin.

"Oh, I wanted to ask you.... does it bother you at all that I invited Will down here?" I looked up from his chest to watch his reaction.

His eyebrows furrowed and he seemed confused.

"Why would that bother me?"

I tried to read his eyes to see if he was just trying to play it cool. He appeared truly stumped.

"Well, I don't know..." I shrugged. "I mean, he's my ex and my family loves him and they were all excited to have him come down.... and he's sleeping just downstairs... I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable or awkward about that."

He smiled as I stumbled through my explanation.

"I'm not bothered by it one bit. I really like the guy! I think we'll be great mates when I move here. He's so outgoing and just... out there. That's the kind of people I like to be around."

It was my turn to look confused. Will and Cayden were going to be BFFs? The first guy I ever had sex with and the last guy I'll ever have sex with were going to be drinking buddies one day? Well, at least they had that in common.

"Why do you look so surprised?" he asked.

"I'm actually surprised that I'm not surprised. And that I don't feel weird about it. But I have to admit, if the tables were turned and you were inviting your ex to your family's Christmas dinner and a slumber party, I think I'd feel weird about it."

"It just kind of depends on the situation I guess," he said. "But I like Will. He's a good guy. Oh, and I think your dad and Corbin were talking about getting all the guys together today to go see the new Mission Impossible movie. What are you girls going to do?"

"Oh, I'm sure Noelle will drag us out shopping like she always does."

Cayden's stomach growled again. I was hungry for some morning sex, but I could tell Cayden was hungry for breakfast. I decided to postpone the morning sex. We were still at my parents' house, after all.

260. Seeing Double

The moment Will walked through the door, the volume in the house rose at least seven notches. Will doesn't have an "inside voice," so you can literally hear his voice bounce off the walls. I was so excited to introduce him to Cayden. They'd both heard so much about each other. But as soon as Will walked up to him to shake his hand, I was speechless.

I looked from Will to Cayden. Cayden to Will. Will to Cayden. Then I looked behind me to read my sisters' facial expressions. We were all thinking the same thing: Cayden and Will could have been twins. Will was a little darker, but other than that, they both had shaved heads, the same facial hair, slightly big ears, and they were practically the same size. I never thought I had a type, but with those two standing next to each other, there was no denying it. 

"They look exactly the same!" Meg whispered across the table. 

"I was just thinking that," Jay whispered back. 

Cayden and Will introduced themselves while I sat there with my jaw on the table, trying to compose myself. Then Will made his rounds, hugging or shaking hands with the rest of my family. 

"So, y'all went to church?" Will asked with a puzzled expression on his face. He knew we weren't the church-going type.

"Yeah, we went to hear a friend sing. It was amazing," I answered. 

I had a flashback of the one time I went to church with Will. For an assignment in one of my college courses, I had to attend a religious service that was different from my own. Being that I didn't have one, per se, the door was wide open. I knew I wouldn't survive through a Catholic service because at times I have the attention span of a fly. And I can't sit without bouncing one of my legs, which can be quite a distraction to anyone else on my pew. Then I thought about attending a Buddhist service. But then I had the perfect idea: I wanted to go to a predominantly black southern Baptist church. Will was my escort. Needless to say, I didn't fall asleep during that service.

We all gathered around the dinner table with our full glasses of wine or Shiner Cheer Beer and bowed our heads over our meal while Will said grace. Then we held out glasses up and clinked them against each other before digging in. We had ham, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, sweet potato casserole, and cranberry sauce. There wasn't a moment of silence at the table. Even with our mouths full, there's always something to talk about when the whole family is in town. 

I kept one hand on Cayden's knee under the table as we ate. Whenever he was on town, I felt like I had to touch him every chance I got. I knew how much I'd miss it when he was gone. He kept one hand on top of mine and smiled at me any time we made eye contact. I loved knowing that from that day on out, I'd never have to spend a Christmas without him. If all went as planned for his move over in May, he'd be all mine all the time. I got lightheaded just thinking about it. Or maybe that was the Cheer Beer.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Will asked as we were scraping the last bit of dessert off our plates. "We hittin' up Papa Gs??"

Papa Gs was a holiday tradition at my house. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, you name it, the night usually ended with us stumbling home after 2am with a bag of Whataburger after a night of drinks at the G (also known as the G-spot. I know, we're so mature). 

"It's closed," Meg announced, looking up from her phone in shock. She'd just received a text from a friend who'd driven by and saw that the "open" sign was off.  "It was closed last night and tonight. What the hell is going on?"

Papa G's never closed. It didn't matter if it was Christmas day or the rapture, Papa Gs was was always open for business. 

"Now what?" I asked, looking at my sisters and brother for an answer. 

We all shrugged and stared at each other.

I wouldn't admit it to my siblings, but a small part of me was grateful it was closed. All I wanted to do was curl up with Cayden in front of the fireplace and watch Love Actually or The Family Stone. I could tell my the weight in Cayden's eyelids that he was grateful as well. Jet lag was kicking in. 

"Drinking games?" Noelle suggested.

"Can I have people over?" Corbin asked. 

"They better bring their own liquor," Mom answered.

"Anyone up for a game of Scattergories?"I suggested, partially to be funny and partially because I'm a 60-year-old lady at heart with a penchant for board games. 

Scattergories it was. 

258. Merry EX-Mas

My family isn't exactly what you'd call religious, so church is usually the last place you'd find us on Christmas morning. But this Christmas was an exception. Close family friend and talented gospel singer, Marvin Matthews, was in town to sing at the Cathedral of Hope Christmas service in Dallas, and I wanted nothing more than for Cayden to experience it. Marvin's voice could make a blind man see; a deaf man hear; a strong man cry. His voice was so powerful, it made the hair on my arms stick straight up and sent goosebumps down my spine and back up again.

I met Marvin when I was 14. His son was my first boyfriend. That relationship lasted a whopping two months a week and a day, which was a long time in middle school terms. We were friends before he asked me out and we stayed friends after I broke his 8th-grade heart. His family became my family. A few years after we broke up, Marvin jokingly tried to bribe me $1,000 to marry his son because I was his favorite of his son's girlfriends.

Marvin sang in my sister's wedding, and I was dead set on having him sing in mine one day, which was another reason I wanted Cayden to meet him so badly.

We all woke up early that morning, got dressed for church, and piled in Mom's SUV to make the drive to Dallas. I'd done some research on the church so I'd know what to prepare for, and found out the Cathedral of Hope was the world's largest liberal Christian church with a primary outreach to the LGBT community. We were sold at "liberal."

Half way to the church I received a text message from Will.

Will: Merry Christmas! 


I scratched my head. I was almost positive he was supposed to be in Puerto Rico with his girlfriend over Christmas. Was he texting from there?

Me: You, too! Are you in Puerto Rico?


Will: No. We broke up. 


Me: WHAT?!?!


I gasped out loud. My heart sunk. Everyone turned to look at me.

"Will and his girlfriend broke up."

My mom gasped. The rest of my family was stunned to silence. Cayden was the first to speak.

"That's awful. What happened?"

"Does he have anywhere to go for Christmas? Tell him to come have Christmas with us," Mom said.

Then Meg chimed in, "I thought they were forever."

I thought so as well. They'd been together nearly three years, and they were, in my eyes, the most adorable couple on the face of the planet.

Will: Long story. We're not speaking. 


Me: Does that mean you no longer have Christmas plans?


Will: Just planning on hanging around here I guess. 


Me: Alone?


Will: Alone. 


Me: Pack your bags. You're coming to Texas! We'll be back at my place around 1. See you then!"


It was roughly a three-hour drive from Oklahoma City to Keller. If he got on the road before noon, he'd be just in time for Christmas dinner.

Will: You just made my Christmas :)


I couldn't stand the thought of anyone spending Christmas alone. I'd been dying for Will and Cayden to meet, and what better way than over Christmas dinner?

"He'll be here before dinner!" I announced, and the whole car broke out in cheers. My family loved Will. He may as well have been my parents' adopted son and my siblings' adopted brother.

"I can't wait to meet him," Cayden said. He sounded genuinely excited.

Then I stopped and put myself in his shoes. What if I'd been in the car with Cayden's family and his ex-girlfriend text messaged him saying she was alone on Christmas. What if he invited his ex over for Christmas dinner and his whole family erupted with joy when she said yes and then they continued to sing her praise?

I suddenly felt like I was going to throw up.

94. Afterthoughts

An annoying sound was pulling me out of my dreamworld with Duncan and vampire fangs and fishnets and threesomes. I tried to ignore it. I tried to focus on Dream Duncan nibbling my ear and scraping his fangs against my neck. But he started fading. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to bring the dream back, but it was too late. The afterimage lingered behind my eyelids. I watched the red-hued afterimage dance around while my ears made sense of the sound. It wasn't an alarm. It wasn't the sound of a billion people outside cheering on the runners during the New York Marathon (When that did happen, I thought aliens were invading). It was just my phone ringing and vibrating at the same time.

But it wasn't loud enough to pull me out of that glorious dream, so it must have just been annoying enough. Meaning it must have been ringing for a long time. I pried one eye open and looked at the screen. It was Will. I couldn't see what time it was because his phone number and a picture of us were taking up the entire screen, but it felt early. That must mean it's important. I tried to clear my throat so he wouldn't have to endure my scratchy morning voice that somewhat resembles that of James Earl Jones after a rough night.

"Hello?" It came out sounding more like Dermot Mulroney than James Earl. Quite an improvement. I rubbed my eyes while I waited for his response.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked, sounding more curious than apologetic.

"Yeah, what time is it? Are you OK?" I absolutely hated early-morning urgent phone calls. They're never good news. It's either someone calling to tell me that yet another one of my fellow high school graduates died or it's my mom asking me if I knew I only had $45 in my bank account until my next payday in two weeks.

"It's 10. And I need to talk."

That didn't sound good. Apparently he'd slept on it, and he was no longer grateful that I'd kept our promise. I wished I would have had a cup of coffee before answering the phone, because by the sound of his voice, I was going to need a double-shot espresso, stat.

"OK, I'm listening." I closed my eyes and lied back down on my pillow. Maybe it would be easier to take if I were cozy under my covers. Well, as cozy as you can be on a futon mattress from the early 90s. Oh, and did I mention that mattress was on the floor?

"I just can't believe you're doing this. You're throwing all of this away for some guy you just met? Everything we've been through for someone who might not even work out?"

He was angry.

I took a deep breath while I tried to figure out the best way to answer.

"Will, regardless of the guy, you and I can't keep doing this. This thing we have going isn't OK. Even if I never see this guy again, you and I have to call it quits at some point. You know I'm not going to commit to you, and I can't let you wait around for me while I go find myself in the big city."

I don't think he'd heard a word I said. He already had his next line on the tip of his tongue, waiting for me to finish before he threw it out at me.

"I've wasted so much time and so much money on this relationship! This is bullshit! You're just throwing it all away!"

He was going to cling to that 'throwing it away' line, I could tell. But he had it all wrong. I wasn't trashing out relationship. If anything, I was pulling it out of the trash, giving both of us another chance to be happy apart from each other. Bitch, I'd call that recycling!

"Will, I'm really sorry you see it that way. I'm not throwing it away, but I don't think there's anything I can say right now to make you see it differently. You're pissed, and you have every right to be. I just hope that you'll understand it later." I hated to picture Will upset. He was always so happy, always upbeat, always positive. So to hear him use the tone he was using right then meant I'd royally pissed him off. I squeezed my eyes shut to keep the tears back.

"Whatever man. Have fun with your new man. Hope that works out for you." At that, he hung up. He didn't really want it to work out for me, I could tell that by the thick layer of cruel sarcasm in his voice. But deep down, way deep down beneath all of the layers of hurt I'd caused him, he really did want the best for me. He's just that kind of guy. Sure, he hated me right then, but our years and years of friendship made me believe that one day we'd be best friends again.

And we are. He forgave me and we held onto our friendship. It was worth it. That phone call happened two years ago this November. Last Valentines day, Will celebrated his one-year anniversary with his new girlfriend Pauline. They're perfect for each other. She's the only person I've ever met who smiles as much as he does. They're adorable, and they have a blast together. They went skydiving, and they took a class in Puerto Rico together. He couldn't be happier. She patched up his heart and offered hers in return, silver platter and all. She's beautiful. They're beautiful. And they lived happily ever after...

Or so we hope :)



*

93. Heartbreaker

So it was official: I'd met someone. Was it something serious? Probably not. But that didn't matter. It was time to break the news to Will. It had been three days since drinks with Duncan, and we'd been texting back and forth. I'd see him next that weekend at the Gugg party. Alexa, Maleah, and I bought a year membership so we could get in free. Not to mention, we felt pretty intellectual saying we were members at the Gugg, even if it was only for the free parties.

I had a sick feeling in my stomach knowing I was about to break Will's heart for the third time. What had he done to deserve that? Nothing at all. He'd fallen in love with me, bought me a ring, and treated me like a princess. And there I was, about to tear out that huge, kind, generous heart of his and stomp on it with my $20 knee-high boots. I felt terrible. I poured myself a glass of wine and sat cross-legged in my sweats on our stiff black leather Ikea couch. Both of my roommates were at work, as they worked in the restaurant industry. I had the place to myself (all 400 square feet of it), so no one else would have to witness what was about to take place.

I sipped my wine while I tried to script a conversation in my head. I'd say hello, ask him if he had a minute to talk, then I'd just come out with it. But how would he react? Would he go off on me, call me a bitch, and throw his phone against the wall? Would he say he wished he'd never met me because all I've caused is heartache? Or would he say he understood? That he'd met someone, too? That it was time to let go.

There was no way of knowing how he'd react, so I quit trying to guess. I hit the speed dial button for Will and held my breath while the phone rang.

"Hey, boo," he said when he picked up. Shit, he was in a good mood. He called me boo. I melt a little when he calls me that.

"Hey, Will. Umm, do you have a minute?" My heart was beating a million miles a minute. I wished I could black out and wake up when it was all over. I was going to have to force the words out.

"Sure, is everything OK?" His voice rode the line between caution and concern.

"Well, you know how we said we'd be honest with each other and tell each other if we met someone?"

I didn't give him a chance to answer.

"Well, I met someone."

He was quiet on the other end. I knew he was probably shaking his head and slumping his shoulders. I didn't have to see him to know he wasn't smiling.

"Are you there?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm here. So, who is he?"

"Do you really want to talk about this? I mean, is that going to make this easier or harder?" I hoped he didn't want details.

"I mean, when did you meet him?" He asked.

"Met him on Halloween, but didn't really start talking until a few days ago. It's all new, so I don't know if it's going anywhere, but we had a deal that we'd tell each other. So I'm telling you now, I'm going to pursue this guy." I held my breath and waited for him to answer. I wanted another gulp of wine but decided I should stay sober for this conversation.

I heard him take a deep breath before he continued.

"OK. We talked about this. We were both prepared for this. So, thank you for being honest with me. Thank you for telling me. So, I guess this is it, huh?" He didn't sound like his genuine self. I could tell he was trying to act casually, but on the inside he was probably fuming. I pictured him stabbing a mini Whitney voo doo doll right in the heart so she could feel what he was feeling. Or maybe he really was OK with this. Maybe he was looking for that excuse to move on and I'd just given him one. Maybe I was just confusing his nonchalant tone with one of relief.

"I guess this is it. Will, you've been amazing, and you know I love you to death. Thank you for showing me what it's like to be loved like that. It was an incredible feeling."

"I love you, too. Well, I'm going to finish studying and I guess I'll talk to you later. Goodnight, Whitney."

"Goodnight, Will."

I hung up and tossed my phone to the other side of the couch. I felt a rush of relief. Will finally heard what he needed to hear to move on. Ending things with him meant I couldn't hurt him anymore. Breaking free from me meant he could make himself available to find someone else, someone who could love and adore him the same way he loved.

To tell you the truth, it didn't matter that I'd met Duncan. Even if I'd made the whole thing up, it still needed to be said. Otherwise Will would have held on, hoping I'd finally realize what I had right in front of me. Well, I did realize it: I had a wonderful, kind-hearted, beautiful man giving me his heart on a silver platter. But that platter was delivered to the wrong table. It was meant for someone who'd nurture it, give hers back in return on a similar silver platter. Not for me, I'd just stab it with a steak knife until all the love seeped out of it. Harsh, I know. But that's what I was doing, and Will didn't deserve it.

I slept better than night than I'd slept since I'd moved to NYC. I knew I'd hurt him with that phone call, but I also knew he'd thank me for it later.

But the call I received from him the next morning couldn't have been further from a Thank-You call.

92. Sweet and Spicy

Alexa and I sat side by side at a midtown bar near our offices. I usually fled the whole midtown scene as fast as humanly possible. Douchey businessmen in suits talking about how much money they make just wasn't my thing. But the happy-hour special made it bearable: $5 beers and free appetizers. We were stuffing our faces with free chicken wings and cheese fries before the boys showed up. Hey, when you're making $10/hour in Manhattan, you lick the plate clean if it's free.

We'd both just gotten off work, so Alexa was in a conservative dress suite (she worked in finance) and I was wearing a scoopneck sweater dress with a belt. I was always grateful for the business casual dresscode in my office because my weekend clothes were my work clothes were my going out clothes. Which is really handy when you can only afford a few outfits anyway.

"So, it's just J and Duncan coming?" I asked before gulping my beer to wash away the sting from the hot wings.

"Yeah, and J said Duncan specifically asked if you were going to be here," Alexa said, cutting the meat off her wings with a kinfe and fork. Oh Alexa, how different we were. She'd dab her mouth with a cloth napkin, whereas I'd wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I finished the last wing, licked my fingers clean, and headed to the bathroom to freshen up (AKA remove all evidence that I'd just dominated a plate of hot wings.)

I checked my teeth for chicken-wing debris. All clear. I hung my head upside down and fluffed my hair around, giving my curls that windblown look. Then I dabbed on some Victoria's Secret lipgloss and popped a piece of cinnamon Trident gum and I was good to go.

When I pushed through the bathroom door, I saw that the boys had arrived. I stopped in the doorway to admire Duncan while he was telling Alexa a story. He was wearing torn jeans and a white shirt with a tie and a vest over both the shirt and the tie. I couldn't quite describe his style. It was a combination of hipster, preppy, and grungy all in one. Either way, it looked hot on him.

I walked back to the bar and reclaimed my seat next to Alexa. Duncan stopped mid-sentence when he saw me.

"Well, don't you look innocent without your fishnets and fangs?"

I smiled, half wishing I'd popped my fangs in while I was in the bathroom. They were nestled in their coffin in my purse.

"Careful, looks can be deceiving," I answered.

"So does that mean the fangs and fishnets were a front? Or your current sweater dress is a front?" he asked, as Alexa and J looked from me to him and back.

"I guess you'll just have to find out," I said, and then stuck my tongue out like a 5-year-old so he'd know I wasn't being too serious. I didn't want the guy to think he was going to see me in just my fishnets that night. But I did sort of have a sudden weird urge to pop my fangs in and kiss his neck, lightly dragging the sharp points over his flawless light brown skin. Crazy, I know.

"Ew. You two get a room or something, we're trying to drink here," Alexa said, jokingly. We clinked out glasses together and all four of us took turns leading the table chatter. Alexa and I talked about the Perez party. J and Duncan talked about the next party at the Guggenheim.

"Wait, people party at museums around here?" I asked, trying to picture people playing beer pong near museum exhibits.

"Yeah, it's a dance party. You both should come!" Duncan said. Turned out, he worked there, interning in the marketing department. He was an art history major, and worked at J. Crew on the side. So that explained his preppy/artsy wardrobe style. For some reason, knowing he was artsy made him even sexier. Even sexier than that was the way he held my eye contact just a little bit longer than necessary. We were eye-fucking, and we both knew it. Oh, and it was good.

At some point in the conversation, J convinced Duncan to tell a story about a threesome he'd had when he was in Florence. Usually when I hear guys talk about threesomes I drone it out with my own commentary in my head, because I assume they're making most of it up anyway. But he wasn't boasting or bragging about it, he was just talking about a crazy situation he'd wound up in. But when Duncan talked, I was intrigued.

No, I didn't want to have a threesome with Duncan, but I did think about how talented he must have been to handle two girls at the same time. And I did start wondering what he looked like underneath that J. Crew getup. Something about Duncan's wild side drew me in. There was something dirty about him, and I liked it. Whenever he'd make eye contact with me while he was talking about sex, my stomach fluttered.

Maybe it was because Will was so sweet that it made me crave something spicy. Or maybe it was because I was doomed to always fall for the bad guy.

But when Duncan kissed me in the rain that night, I realized he just might have a sweet side.

91. Dress-Up Parties

I've always loved Halloween. You get to dress up as something you're not, take on a new identity for a night. I bought a hideous ankle-length suede vampire costume and splurged on a $20 pair of fangs. These weren't just any fangs. They came with these plastic balls I had to boil and melt and then pour them into the fangs and fit them around my canines until it dried and hardened. They fit perfectly. And they looked eerily real. They weren't the tacky long ones, or the plastic ones that cover all your teeth. They were barely longer than my real teeth, and came to the perfect point. They came with a coffin case.

Once my teeth were perfected, I grabbed the scissors and went to town on the hideous suede getup, cutting it to mid-thigh with a slit up my hip. There was a tacky netting on the top, which I cut off and added a plunging neckline.

I pulled on a pair of fishnets and popped my fangs in and voila: sexy vampire. I'm usually not one to put the sexy spin on my Halloween costumes because I don't like to show a lot of skin, aside from cleavage (this year I thought about going as Dora the Explorer), but I felt like living in NYC warranted a dirty costume.

The week before Halloween, Maleah and I showed off our costumes at a monster bash at Crash Mansion, hosted by a group Maleah volunteered with. She went as a sexy Cleopatra, and looked even more naked than I did in my vampire get up. The scene wasn't as hopping as we'd hoped, so we downed our free drinks, shook our asses on the dance floor, and peaced out before 1 am.

Then we headed to the Crocodile Lounge, and we kept our jackets buttoned up because, surprisingly, everyone else was saving their costumes for the next weekend. I kept my fangs in because I kind of liked them.

We met up with Alexa and a few of her guy friends, one of whom looked like Tony Parker, but less gigantuan. Light brown skin, light eyes. Yes, please! I felt him watching me as I leaned over the bar to buy a drink. I gave him a sideways glance and flashed him a hint of fang. His eyes lit up. I grabbed my drink and pulled Alexa along to the ladies' room.

"Dude, who is that guy?" I asked, nearly piercing my lip with my fang.

"Which one?"

"Umm, the sexy light-skinned one, who else?"

"Oh, that's Duncan. He's one of J's friends, I just met him tonight. But yeah, he looks good!"

We touched up our makeup in the cloudy mirrors. I glanced at Alexa. And by glanced I mean I checked her out. She was hot! Yes, this is the same Alexa I ended up moving in with when I moved to Brooklyn. She's Dominican with the prettiest face attached to a body any girl would die for. Lucky bitch. Duncan would probably be all over that.

Oh well, I didn't need another guy to add to my boy drama, so I enjoyed my drinks with my girls and flashed Duncan one more fang-peeking smirk on my way out the door.

The next weekend we went all out. Alexa maneuvered her way into a skin-tight dominatrix outfit, complete with leather whip and spike-pointed black heels. Maleah and I resorted to our costumes from the week before, which was probably a party faux pas, but we didn't give a shit. We started the night at a pre party at a friend's apartment near Times Square, then we cabbed it to a venue called Espace for Perez Hilton's Halloween Bash.

I can't say I remember the whole night, but I do remember seeing Perez and then bringing home a Justin Bobby lookalike with a British accent. Yum. (No, not Cayden. And no, we didn't have sex. I'd still only slept with Will at that point.)

I saw the missed calls from Will on my phone and immediately felt guilty. While he was probably doing something low key like refusing to wear a costume to a house party in Oklahoma, I was at Perez Hilton's party and then hooking up with a random stranger. I couldn't do it anymore. I had to end it with him. And I knew exactly what I had to do. I had to tell him I met someone. That was the only way he was going to let go and move on.

Now I just needed a someone, so I wouldn't be completely lying.

Just then, I received a text message.

"Hey, do you want to grab a drink after work tomorrow with me, J, and Duncan?"

Why, yes, Alexa. Yes, I would.



*

90. Guilt Trip

We tried to make the best of the rest of his visit, but Awkward hung around us like a third wheel. We spent our last day clinging on to each other because we both knew the second he stepped into that taxi to LaGuardia, we would never be the same. I'd be the bitch who broke his heart twice. He'd be the best friend I'd always want a little bit more with. I was the crying girl in the middle of the street hugging him while he had one foot in the cab. He held me tight, and didn't tell me not to cry.

"We'll still talk. Things will be fine," he said, rubbing my back.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you what you came here for. I'm so sorry, Will," I said between hiccups sobs.

"Hey, you can't force things. We'll be OK." And at that, he broke free of my hug and ducked into the cab.

"Be good, Kid," he said, closing the door.

I watched him drive away as I stood there on Avenue A, crying like an idiot. After a few minutes of watching the cab in stop-and-go traffic, I walked over to Tompkins Square Park and sat on a bench to think. Will had been my comfort blanket, my link to home. What would NYC be like without that? I watched a couple pass by wearing skinny jeans and holding hands. I thought about tripping them. I resisted the urge, but started to wonder if I'd ever find that. (No, not the skinny jeans. I doubted they made them in my size) Or would I always fall for the bad guy, the guy who doesn't hold hands in public, the guy who doesn't commit. I put my face in my hands and I cried.

At the same time, I hoped Will would move on. I hoped he'd find a girl he could walk hand-in-hand with, a girl who loved him back the exact amount he loved her. Will was a lover, and he deserved to be loved by the greatest girl possible. I just wasn't that girl.

But I just didn't have the balls to tell him to move on. As badly as I wanted to, I still wanted a piece of Will for myself. Sure, I'd told him I couldn't commit, but I didn't tell him to stop trying. I knew that deep down, Will was hoping I'd come to my senses. Hoping I'd wake up and realize how good I had it with him. And deep down in me, I knew that wouldn't happen. I just didn't have the heart to tell him. So I answered his call that night. And the next night. And the next.

I couldn't stop myself. I just wanted to tell him all about my day. In hindsight, I realize I should have just written in a journal, or hell, started a blog, instead of relying on Will. Every time I called him, I was giving him a fraction of hope. Of course, I was still out meeting people, and I told myself he was, too. But there was no one I'd rather talk to after a long day than Will.

I was being selfish, I know. I knew it at the time, but I didn't know what to do about it. I wasn't interested in finding a serious relationship in the city because I knew I wasn't in a serious relationship with NYC. New York and I were dating, but we weren't committed. I was making $10 an hour and paying $1,000/month in rent, so you might want to call it an abusive relationship. My heart was back in Texas with my friends and family, so it wasn't available for anyone in New York. That was actually my mom's biggest fear. "Oh, you're going to fall in love and never come back."

The guilt of what I was doing to Will finally became too much. It was too heavy. I couldn't carry it around anymore. I felt guilty every time I talked to another guy, and I was starting to resent Will for that, even though it was my fault. It had been about a month since his visit. It was almost Halloween. I downed a glass of wine and made the call.

"Will, we can't keep doing this," I said into my cell phone, pouring myself another glass of wine.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I mean this. We can't keep relying on each other like this. It's not fair to you," I knew I was being the unfair one, which is why I didn't say 'us.'

"Whitney, I'm fine with the way things are. I love talking to you. We're friends. I know you won't commit, so I'm not asking you to," he said.

"I know you're not asking me to, but that doesn't make this OK! This just has to stop. We're both clinging to something that's not there," I swirled the tempranillo around in my stemless wine glass and watched it cling to the sides. Watching the wine slosh distracted me from crying.

"Whitney, how about this. We keep things like they are, and if you meet someone you tell me, and if I meet someone I'll tell you. Then we'll let go of it, move on. Until then, I don't want to let go."

I knew that sounded like the worst idea ever. I knew this was my chance to come clean, break it off, set him free. All I had to say was, "No, we both know that won't work. This is over. I love you, but this is done." Easier thought than said. I couldn't force the words out. I downed the smooth red wine in three gulps and felt it sting my nose and the back of my throat. Liquid courage? Hardly.

"OK. Until we meet someone."

89. Sappy Birthday To Us

"Your table will be ready in about 45 minutes. If you'd like to go to a nearby bar, we can call your cell when it's ready."
I scribbled my cell phone number on a pad of paper and Will and I stepped out into the breezy September air. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He was dressed in black slacks, a black button up shirt, and a dark blue tie. He was all dressed up for our Birthday dinner, and he looked great. As we ran across the street hand-in-hand I regretted wearing heels, but they made my calves look nice in my slinky black dress.

We chose the first bar we came across, an old diner-type bar. We grabbed two stools and ordered beers. The scene there made me feel like we should be ordering milkshakes or root-beer floats.

"So, there's something I wanted to talk to you about," Will said, turning in his stool to face me. A knot started forming in the pit of my stomach. It couldn't be good. Either he was going to ask me to commit or he was going to break it off with me. Or, considering we were dressed nice and it was a special occasion, he was going to get down on one knee right then and there and propose. There wasn't one of those three scenarios I wanted to hear. I wanted to beg him, "Will, not now. Not here." But I knew there wasn't anywhere I wanted to have that conversation, so the bar at the diner was just going to have to be good enough.

"Yes?" I said with a false chipper voice. Maybe if he saw how peppy I was he wouldn't want to kill the mood with a serious talk. Please don't ruin our birthday dinner. Please don't ruin our birthday dinner.

"Well, we talk on the phone every day. And we obviously like each other..."

The knot in my stomach grew bigger and bigger. I was half expecting an alien hand to claw it's way out of my stomach and punch Will for bringing this up.

"Right," I said, staring into my beer bottle, hoping to find a distraction in the bubbles.

"So, it just makes sense that we should be together. Committed."

Oh, the dreaded C-word. I didn't want to look at him for fear that he was about to surprise me with another ring box. He sounded so sure of himself. So sure of his feelings for me. His voice was dripping with hope. A hope that I'd been feeling the same way. I didn't want to do this again. I didn't want to break his heart all over again. His beaten and bruised heart couldn't go through that again. But I couldn't pretend for his heart's sake. I wished I could. Oh, how I wished I could.

I looked up from my beer bubbles and half turned in my chair to face him. The least I could do was give him eye contact while I tore his generous heart out though his crisp black shirt and stabbed it with my 3-inch heel.

"Will, you live in Oklahoma. I just moved to New York City. I mean, good Lord, we're only 22 years old! That's way too young to be tied down. I just can't do that. Not right now. I need to experience this," I said, waving my arm out, gesturing to the busy street through the window behind us.

"Then what am I even doing here?!" His outdoor voice bounced off the tile floor. He threw his napkin on the bar in frustration. No one turned and looked our way. A couple-fight was an everyday occurrence in the city.

"You're here celebrating with me. It's our birthdays and you're my best friend. You know I can't do long distance. We've talked about this," I said, reaching for his arm to comfort him but he pulled away.

Of course the rooftop sex didn't exactly scream "Best Friends."

"I can't believe I came all this way for this."

He threw a $20 down on the table and said, "Come on, our table's probably ready."

"Will, wait!" I said, as he strolled through the door without me. I felt my eyes start to sting and I knew tears were on their way. I grabbed my purse and followed him outside.

"Will! You can't be mad at me for this! You broke up with me, remember? How am I supposed to commit to you from New York when we couldn't even handle a title on this when we lived in the same city?!" Tears were streaming down my face now, warm and wet. I was sure my makeup had gone to shit. Taxis sped past us. Other couples dressed up and holding hands walked past us pretending they didn't see a hysterically crying girl on the sidewalk.

Will stopped a few feet in front of me and put his hands on his head.

"Please don't cry," he said, turning to me.

"Will, what do you want me to do?? You can't just fly up here and demand this! That's not fair!" I tried to wipe my tears but it was pointless.

He closed the space between us and wrapped me in a hug. I cried into his nice shirt and he ran his hand through my hair.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. I shouldn't force this on you. We can take some time to think about it. Now let's cheer up and go enjoy our birthday dinner."

He pulled away and tried to help me brush the tears off my cheeks. I knew my eyes were probably rimmed in red and my neck and cheeks were splotchy. So much for trying to look nice for our birthday dinner.

We ate our Spanish tapas with minimal conversation. He was hurt and frustrated and I was just flat-out frustrated. The waitress eyed me with concern, wondering if maybe I was the victim of an abusive relationship. Little did she know, I was the abuser. I was the heartbreaker. Will was the victim.

88. Make New Friends But Keep the Old

Remember how I said moving in with your parents post-graduation made you cling on to anything that made you feel like an adult? Well, moving to a new city, hundreds of miles away from your best friends and family, makes you cling on to anything that makes you feel like home. I wanted to dive into everything NYC had to offer. The whole moving-to-NYC-without-a-place-to-live-and-picking-random-roommates-on-Craigslist thing is evidence of that.

I wanted to soak up the culture, the atmosphere—everything that was different from Texas and Oklahoma (which was, um, everything). But at the same time, I needed an anchor, something to keep me grounded. Something to remind me of home. For me, that was Will.

I moved away without officially breaking it off with Will, but we weren't officially together anyway, so I wasn't sure if there was anything to really break off. He knew I wasn't interested in long distance. I knew I wanted to be single. But that didn't stop us from calling each other almost every night. I had so much to tell him!

I wanted to tell him how my new roommate, Maleah, knew a lot of club promoters, so she'd be taking me under her wing and introducing me to the clubbing scene. I wanted to tell him all about the two mice who lived in out apartment, one of which I named "Cotton" because he was the size of a little cotton ball. I wanted to tell him how we befriended a man who drives a stretch Hummer limo and plays bongo drums at one of the clubs we'd frequent. Said limo driver would call us when it would rain and ask us if we wanted a ride to the club that night. To which we'd always accept.

I wanted to tell him how one night Maleah, one of our girlfriends, and I were walking down the street in our heels and dresses and a group of guys passed us and said, "Dude, do you think they're celebrities?" (To which his friend answered, "No, they're probably porn stars.")

So I did. I told him all about it. Sometimes I couldn't wait to get home, kick off my heels and forget about my throbbing feet, and call Will to tell him about my night. He loved to hear about it. Life was much different in NYC than Oklahoma, that's for sure. When people asked if I had a boyfriend, I'd say no, but that I had a Will back home. I wore his ring every day. (In fact, to this day I've never taken his ring off). I flirted with other guys. I dated other guys (remember the god-awful firefighter incident??). I lived up the single life. But I missed Will, and I wanted to see him again.

"What if I come up there at the end of September, so we can celebrate our birthdays together?" He asked one night on the phone.
"That sounds perfect." I responded. September 28 couldn't come soon enough.

When Will stepped out of the cab in front of my building, I tackled him with a bear hug. It was so good to see my best friend again. I helped him carry his bags up to my 5th floor walk up (of course I had to take a break on the 3rd floor). He walked into my apartment and nodded in approval.

"You're right! This place has character!" he said as he took in the exposed brick, the bright yellow kitchen wall, the light green and dark green striped wall in the living room, the maroon wall in my room, the vintage couch where my roommate slept, the view out my bedroom window of lively Saint Marks Palace.

"Wait until you see the best part," I said, leading him out of my room. I grabbed my foam-cushioned pilates mat on the way out. I pulled him out the front door and up another set of stairs. Then I pushed a door open and we stepped out to the roof. I wedged my shoe in the door to make sure we wouldn't get locked out.

Will's eyes lit up. There's pretty much nothing like seeing New York City from a rooftop.

We both stood there with our eyes wide, a half-smile on our faces, without saying a word.

After our moment of silence, I took him by the hand.

"And now, for our Birthday present."

He raised an eyebrow at me, curiously.

I kicked my pilates mat to unroll it and looked back at him, seductively.

When I said there's nothing like seeing NYC from a rooftop, what I meant was, there's nothing like watching the stars over the city twinkle while you're half naked and face up on a pilates mat with your equally naked best friend hovering over you.

Happy Birthday to us.

87. The Last Summer

"So, what are we going to do?" Will asked.

"Well, we're going to walk across that stage, and then we'll be graduates." I answered, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, but then what?" I knew he was referring to us, not his post-graduation plans. But I didn't have an answer for us.

"Well, then I'm going to Texas to find a job. And you're staying here for grad school."

We left it at that. We didn't talk about what we were, what we could be, what would happen with us. We didn't even talk in hypotheticals. We just had an understanding that we'd still be the best friends we always were, only we'd be living 200-something miles apart. We didn't talk about a long-distance relationship or the next time we'd see each other. Would we date other people? Well, dating wasn't on my mind at the time. Until I found a job the only dates I'd be going on were one-on-ones with my laptop at a coffee shop. Or interviews, those are like dates, right? Both parties walk away from an interview wondering if there's a future there.

A funny thing happens when you're jobless and living with your parents: You cling to anything that makes you feel like an adult. Talking to Will made me feel like I was in a grown-up relationship. So once I moved back to Texas we still talked every night. Nothing all that serious, we just talked like good ol friends.

We'd talk about how many jobs I'd applied for that day (50) and how many I'd heard back from (0). We'd talk about how this person got lucky finding the perfect job out of college or how that person decided they wanted nothing to do with their degree.

I started nannying so I wouldn't go out of my mind at home. I hadn't been without a job since I was 14, and even then I was babysitting every chance I got. Being a nanny kept me sane, made me feel like an adult. I tried to ignore the fact that people might be saying, "Oh, remember Whitney? The girl who graduated in the top of her class and did all those cool magazine internships? She's a nanny now."

I didn't care. I loved those girls I nannied. And at least it sounded better than saying I worked at Sonic, because I seriously considered going back there. I worked there for 5 years, rollerskates and all (mine even had light-up wheels).

When I wasn't nannying or job hunting, I was lying out by my pool with my mom, because part of me knew this would be my last summer. I was about to enter the real world, the world where there are no summer vacations, no spring breaks, no extra credit assignments to make up for that quiz you missed.

I didn't know where Will fit into that world. He couldn't be my study buddy anymore, and considering the distance, he couldn't be my bed buddy, either. I accepted that.

We thought we were over.

Then he came to visit me in Texas.

Then I surprised him in Oklahoma.

Well, maybe it would end when I moved to NYC...

86. Spring Break Up

Breaking up was probably the best decision we could have made. After that, we were all over each other. Couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Our relationship was better. The sex was better. There had been something wrong with our relationship the whole time we were official. Turns out, it was the title. It felt forced. I wanted to call him my boyfriend so it would justify me losing my virginity to him. He wanted to call me his girlfriend because he’d been wanting to for the past two and a half years. Those were the wrong reasons.

Every spring and fall in college I attended a convention for college journalists with a handful of my coworkers. Every fall it was in a different city, but every spring it was in NYC. I was dying to get back there after the amazing summer I’d had doing my previous internship. This time, I wanted to take Will with me. He’s from small-town Oklahoma, so I couldn’t wait to see his reaction to a city like NYC. It would be like nothing he’d experienced before.

A week before our flight, I received an email from the editor I worked with at my NYC internship.

Hey Whitney!
Any chance you’ll be in NYC during your spring break? I just started at a new magazine, and it’s sort of top-secret right now. It hasn’t been launched and doesn’t even have a name yet, but would you want to come intern for us during your spring break?

Did I want to intern at a top-secret start-up magazine? Hell yes I did! I hated that that meant Will would have to do some exploring on his own while I was at work, but in my opinion, that’s the best way to see the city.

We decided to stay in a hostel, because that was the only way we could afford to go. I’d stayed in NYC hostels before, but this one was definitely the strangest. It was called Candy Hostel, and it looked like a demented playhouse. There were lollipop lights on the walls and trippy light patterns on the ground.



It was literally a room with a bed and a shared bathroom down the hall. But that was all we needed. It’s times like these when you start to understand childhood rhymes like “Goodnight. Sleep tight. Don’t’ let the bed bugs bite.”



We dropped off our bags and headed to Times Square. Anyone who’s ever lived in NYC knows to avoid Times Square like the plague. But I needed Will to see it. I needed to see his face light up brighter than any Times Square billboard. And that’s exactly what happened. We came up from the subway station and his adorable little-boy face filed with awe, excitement, astonishment. We ordered street vendor hot dogs and finished the night with a brownie from Roxies.

The next morning, I went to work, and Will went exploring.



We were able to make an appearance at the journalism conference as well. But as usual any visit to NYC, time flew. We visited Columbia because Will had won a grant for grad school, and that was one of the schools that accepted it. We walked around the campus, wondering what it would be like to go to school there.




We also made it to Central Park, because you can’t go to NYC and not take a moment to relax at the park. There’s just something about seeing towering buildings behind the sprawling lawn and layer of trees.



We had sex in our cramped, dirty, hostel bed. Probably the same place hundreds of other people had had sex before we’d gotten there. And I wasn’t too sure when the sheets had been washed last. But when in NYC, you have to learn to expect filth, and rock it.

85. Sex Ed

When it comes to sex, there's a lot you have to learn about one another. What works and what doesn't work. The difference between a good wince and a bad wince. A moan versus a cry. Flexible versus something's dislocated.

Here's what I learned:

1. I was absolutely terrible on top. I lacked any hint of rhythm despite my Cuban background. Oh, and apparently I didn't own quadriceps. My legs would start burning after five minutes, and I'd fight back tears after eight.

2. I didn't like romance. Will would turn on music, and sometimes he'd light a candle. The candle would make it hotter than necessary in the room, and the music only enhanced my complete lack of rhythm.

3. Once you get over the fact that you're naked and spread eagle, you start to enjoy it more. In the beginning, I worried that my stomach creased and made a roll when my legs were over his shoulders. There's just no way to suck it in when your calves are on either side of your own head. I wouldn't want the lights on, because heaven forbid, what if my thigh looked chunky when he squeezed them this way or that? What if our chests suctioned together and made that god-awful farting noise? What if I missed a spot shaving? Finally, I decided, "Fuck it." I stopped worrying and I started enjoying.

4. Sex alone doesn't get me off. I know I'm not alone in this, although a lot of people are afraid to admit it. To this day, I've never once had an orgasm from the basic in and out. If there is such thing as a G Spot, I was born without one. Sure, sex felt great, but it just didn't seal the deal, set off the fireworks, or entice the fat lady to sing. But luckily, thanks to my many years of non-sex experience, I'd discovered other things that make me go mmmmm. Sure, it took a little more coordination on Will's part, but before long we were both closing the deal.

5. Louder is better. I used to think when guy's talked about how loud a woman was in bed, she was either faking it or they were lying. That was stuff of pornos, right? Besides, I'd had plenty of orgasms and never once had I woken my roommates. I didn't realize I was holding back. But with Will I was comfortable enough to open up around him. Little did I know that would lead to me opening my big mouth in the bedroom. I let it all out, I moaned, I ooed, I ahhhed, I gasped. Only then did I realize what an orgasm was supposed to feel like. It also helped Will learn what I liked and didn't like.

So back to what I was saying. I had a lot to learn, and I had to be comfortable with the person I was going to learn it from. I would have been mortified if I'd come to some of these discoveries with people I didn't trust as much as Will.

But things with Will weren't perfect. There was something missing in our relationship. We were best friends by day and lovers by night, which sounds all well and good. But something was off. Neither of us could put our finger on it. By this time it was March of our senior year. We were graduating a two months later and I assumed we'd just enjoy each other until graduation. I had no plans of basing my post-grad decisions on a boy, and he knew that.

One month later, Will broke up with me.

84. Losing It

A lot of girls grow up with this vision of what it's going to be like to lose their virginity: After a year of withholding, they finally lose it to the man of their dreams, with candlelight to bounce their shadows against the walls and slow playing music to keep rhythm to. Oh, and of course it would end in joint mind-blowing orgasms, with both of them finishing at the same time.

I was never one of those girls.

I wasn't a wait-for-marriage kind of girl, either. I mean, really, would you buy a pair of shoes without trying them on first? That just seemed silly. I wasn't waiting for "The One." I wasn't expecting my first time to start with an appetizer of chocolate-covered fruit or chocolate-covered body parts.

I only had two requirements: I wanted it to be someone I cared about, and I wanted to have no regrets. Oh, and I wasn't going to share. So I cared about Casey, but I'd have to share him. I didn't so much care about sexy Dane, but that's probably because I didn't know anything about him beyond how to get him off without my hands.

Before Will, no one met all three requirements. And surprisingly, none of the guys I messed around with before meeting Will pressured me about having sex. I suppose I got lucky, in that sense. Part of that was probably because some guys are scared to death of virgins. You know, the whole Stage 5 Clinger bit. Sure, I was always the only virgin in the room, so my friends liked to give me crap about that every now and then. But I'd always win when it came to "Never Have I Ever."

So when Will and I finally did have sex, there was no music, no candlelight. We were in my bed, and we both had class the next morning. For some reason, I knew this time the foreplay was going to lead to something. This time I was going to lose it. To my best friend.

He was hovering over me and my legs were shaking. The condom looked like it was cutting of his circulation, and it almost made me giggle. He looked into my eyes and asked, "Are you OK?" That was Will, always making sure everyone was comfortable. Had I told him, "No! Just kidding! Mission abort!" he wouldn't have complained. Anything to make me comfortable.

But instead I met his eyes and nodded. "Go slow."

As gentle as he could, he started to push himself inside of me. Slow and steady.

I grabbed his arms on either side of my head and winced. "Wait."

He stopped without asking. My legs were still shaking and my fingertips were turing white from gripping him so hard. His face filled with concern.

"It's OK. Just give me a second. It hurts, but I'm sure I'll adjust."

I tried to calm down so my body would relax. I took a few deep breaths and begged my legs to stop shaking. I loosened the grip on his arms and the feeling came back to my fingers. I thought about Will and how much he cared about me. My legs slowed to a tremble. Will leaned down and kissed me. My body was still. He put one hand on the side of my face and pulled back from the kiss. He looked me in the eye and I nodded.

He pushed in a little farther and I winced again and he stopped. I lifted my head off my pillow and met his lips with mine. I concentrated on his kiss, his lips, his tongue, while he slowly eased himself in. I trailed my hands down his sides and gripped his hips.

He broke the kiss and said, "You good?"

Then I realized he was all the way in. It hurt, but when I relaxed the pain gave way to a slight discomfort. I felt full. I know that's a weird way of describing it, but that's what I was thinking at that time.

Slowly in, slowly out. While I was kissing him he couldn't see me wince. If he saw me wince, he'd stop. I didn't want him to stop. So I kept kissing him and concentrating on how perfect his lips felt on mine, how smooth his skin was under my hands. The more I thought about that, the less it hurt.

Faster in, faster out. He had a good rhythm going, but he had to break the kiss to give his arms a break from the constant push up. I closed my eyes and concentrated on keeping my face wince-free. I started to wonder if everyone's first time was like that, or if it was my curse for liking black guys. I decided on the latter, otherwise why would anyone ever do it again?

Suddenly I felt his body pulse. His muscles tensed, but his body went completely still above me. I watched his face as he got off. Call me crazy, but I love watching a guys face in this moment because he has absolutely no control. He's completely vulnerable and completely lost in the moment. Then he collapsed on top of me and our sweaty bodies slide against each other while we breathed together.

I didn't get off, but I knew I wouldn't. He rolled off of me and let his hand slide down my stomach. He wanted to even the score. I grabbed his hand.

"No. That's in Time Out for a week."

A good friend of mine once described what it was like when she lost her virginity, and I'll never forget her words:

"Well, you know when you accidently stick the Q-tip too far in your ear? It was like doing that over and over again."

Couldn't have said it better myself. But I'm glad I can say no regrets.

83. The Giver

Valentine's Day, my senior year of college: Will and I had been dating for a month or two. We weren't officially together yet, but it was still new. I usually hated Valentine's Day. Always had. I think it stemmed back to high school when girls would carry their bouquets of flowers and teddy bears from class to class, and all I had was the heart-shaped box of chocolates my parents bought for my sisters and brother and me. I didn't do the whole boyfriend thing in high school. High school boys didn't chase after the smart girls, that's for sure.

So it was my first Valentine's Day with an almost-boyfriend. I had to give him the perfect gift. If he were just some guy I'd only been dating a couples months, I wouldn't have given him anything more than a box of candy hearts. But this wasn't just some guy. This was my Will.

I hate giving someone a gift if it's not the perfect gift. If all I can come up with is a gift card or a picture frame, I usually just go with nothing. In my own weird way, not getting someone a gift is more of a compliment than giving them a half-assed one because it says, "You're too good for just a giftcard." But I can also see how this can be construed as me being a thoughtless bitch.

But if it's the perfect gift, the gift that I know will make their eyes light up and say, "How did you even think to get me this??" then I absolutely love gift giving. I get so excited I usually can't wait until the day of the celebration (holiday, birthday) to give it to them. Remember the Blue Moon Ice cream disaster? That was the perfect gift.

I had the perfect gift for Will. I dug around my room until I found the napkin he stole. I stretched it around a textbook and pulled it tight by tucking the edges into the flaps. Then I pulled out my trusty Sharpie, and wrote:

Three and a half years ago
I never would have guessed
that we would be together.
That I would try my best.
To be the girl You fell for.
A year and a half ago.
When you put your heart out on the line.
And I just let it go.

I finally came to my senses.
I’m sorry it took so long.
For a person who's used to always being right.
It was hard to admit I was wrong.

I used to hide my ring from you.
I'd turn it inside out.
But now I wear it everyday.
Because I know what its about:
Friendship, intrigue, passion, devotion,
commitment, hope and love,
potential, desire, excitement, emotion
and your family up above.

I hope I meet their standards.
I hope I’m good enough
For her son who's always caring.
For his brother who's always tough.

It's only been a few weeks, it's all still new,
but there's something I have to say.
I couldn't be happier than I am with you,
and Happy Valentine's Day.

Others might have seen it as a cheesy poem on a napkin. What kind of gift was that? But to Will and me, it was an expression of my feelings and an apology for any hurt I'd caused in the past, all written on a memento from our first date.

I don't remember what Will gave me that Valentine's Day, but not because it wasn't a good gift. The gift I remember is the look on his face when he saw that I'd kept the napkin, and the emotion on his face as he read the poem. That was all I needed. (But I'm pretty sure he also gave me the flowers and teddy bear I'd always wanted. Sadly, my dog decapitated the bear.)

Will loved the poem so much he framed it and hung it on his wall, right next to the pictures of his family and the plaque memorializing his mom and brother's death.

I hoped Will would ask me to be his girlfriend that night. As soon as he asked me out, I'd planned on cashing in my V Card.

I woke up the next morning still a virgin.