P, my first date in a new city

P has an unfortunate first initial but I don’t really care enough to give him a less urine-related one. He can just stay P.

Out of all the matches I was talking to that day, he was the horniest. And since it was one of those days when it felt like my vagina might eat me, I agreed to let him be my first date in my new city.

I was staying at my dad’s while I found my own apartment and borrowing his wife’s old beetle-green Bronco. They were out of town for the weekend.

I got a little lost on the way to the dive bar P had chosen and had a hard time making the u-turns necessary in the giant old truck with the rosary that swayed violently from the rear-view mirror. My phone kept buzzing with texts from him.

Hey you almost here?

Hey are you lost?

Hey are you ok?

Hey are you standing me up? ;P

When I finally found the parking lot and grabbed my phone to reply that no, I was actually not standing him up, I was just lost in a new city, he walked right up to my borrowed Bronco instead and waited awkwardly as I awkwardly slid out of the really really really tall seat.

He told me I looked pretty. He looked different than his photos, but I didn’t tell him.

Instead, I told him I forgot his name.

Thankfully, he laughed.

I asked the bar tender what was on tap and she kinda side smirked to keep herself from laughing. I got a Corona.

He talked. A lot. A lot.

About his mom and his problematic friends and work and weed and who the fuck knows what else.

And when I finally got a turn to say something about something I care about, he interrupted to tell me how gorgeous I look when I talk this way and then took right over the conversation again.

We drank cheap beer until the bar got too loud and he suggested checking another spot out.

I’m so glad we’re vibing.

My brain was bored and definitely not vibing, but my vagina was like sure, why not.

He put his hand on my knee and gave me directions to the second bar in that casual way lifelong locals do when they forget you don’t know the town as well as they do, all the while making plans for all the future dates he was sure we’d have together.

Next time, I’ll take you to that spot over there. You’ll think it’s dope.

Oh, and we gotta check out that spot. You’ll love it.

I gotta show you a place down that way. It’s just your vibe.

He kissed me after we parked the truck and led me by the hand to a nearly-empty pool hall where he found the perfectly cliched excuses to keep touching me and standing too close.

Let me help you chalk that.

If you turn just a little bit, like this….

Lean over the table and stick that booty out, baby.

He’d pause to turn me toward him and pull me closer and make out. And even though my brain hated this dude and his bad undercut and the way his conversation was peppered with problematic nuggets, my vagina kept betraying me.

Should we get a room?

Back in the truck, back on some freeway, back to the swaying rosary. He said he loved that I was driving this truck and turned up the volume on the Rancheras playing on the radio.

He paid for a room, got the key, rolled a blunt.

I realized no one knew where I was.

Who to text?

My husband was 900 miles away, already dead asleep.

My best friend was even farther, also asleep.

My dad was an inappropriate choice, and probably sleeping.

Fuck.

I texted M, the person I was talking to the most and who was probably still awake, even if he was as far away as everyone else.

Please text in an hour to make sure I haven’t been murdered.

P was so excited to find that I don’t shave my legs and even more excited at the sight of my hairy armpits.

He held my arms up and licked them.

I wondered what he got out of it aside from a mouthful of deodorant.

Let’s smoke some more.

We moved into the bathroom to avoid setting off the fire alarms.

Look at you. You’re so beautiful.

But looking in the mirror, I couldn’t believe him.

Back in bed, I let him finish on my face. Mostly because no one had done that before and I wondered what it would feel like.

He was really into it, but it was just as boring as I’d expected.

I checked my phone while P was in the bathroom getting me a towel.

Hey you ok!!!!

I’m ok baby. But this is just making me miss you.

P was back and I cleaned my face and he lay next to me and told me about how he wanted to get me a latex suit. He’d wear black and I’d wear red.

We laughed about some things and shared some almost sweet moments and got the closest we ever did to any sort of mutual connection.

I fell asleep.

In the early morning, P gave me directions to the house he shared with his mom and three roommates.

I let Siri give me directions back to my temporary home.

And on the drive, the thing I had wondered with M became exceedingly clear.

I was not the type of woman to fall for whoever she had sex with, like all the youth group leaders and singles’ ministers always warned it worked. My soul was not tied to anyone just because we’d had sex.

And I could fuck someone and let it just be fucking and walk away and not feel gross or used or any of the shit they’d told me I’d feel.

In morning light, I found the aux cord and played my music after thanking the virgencita tucked into the visor for keeping me safe.

Singing, I decided to tell M how I felt… even if we’d met casually. Even if he was 900 miles away.