Tag Archives: vacation

I Was Curious. So Shoot Me.

19 Aug

I was going to preface this entry with a don’t judge me clause, but fuck it.  I’M judging me.  Sooo…do what you must.

So when it came to M, and the now infamous phone call, I did what I needed to do to make myself better.  I cried for a day (or two).  I drank a whole bottle of red wine and cussed him out to whomever would listen.  I hurt my shoulder again (don’t knock it…it took my mind off of him!)  He hasn’t been the first thing on my mind when I woke up in the morning.  Definitely still not thinking about dating, but I was better.


A couple of days ago, around noon, my phone rang.  M’s name popped up on my screen.  I had really struggled with deleting it, but I didn’t.  I told myself it was in case I needed my mechanic down the road.  I can talk myself into just about anything…it’s a talent…

So I answer the phone.  Hello?  No answer.  Heeellllloooo?  Still no answer.
E:  M, I know it’s you.  Why are you calling me?
M:  I have a favor to ask you.
E:  So ask (I figured it was going to be the money I owed him for the parts for my car).
M:  Never mind.  You won’t do it.
E:  Why don’t you ask, and then I will tell you if I will do it or not.
M:  It’s OK, forget I asked.  Just go do what you were going to do today.  I will figure something else out.
M:  I have to go to XYZ to pick up a truck I bought.  And I was wondering if you want to go with me.


M:  I will pay for everything.  Food, gas, a room if we can’t drive anymore.  I thought I would ask you, we could drive and talk.  But if you don’t want to, I understand.
E:  Ummm…I’ll go.
M:  You will?  OK, I will call you in an hour.

I hung up the phone and contemplated what I had just agreed to.  It’s a nine-hour drive.  One-way.  Before I could get too far into those thoughts, M called again.

Esme, is this something you can do?  Will you be OK being in the car with me, being around me?  I don’t want things to get worse between us.  But I would like to see you.

I assured him I will be fine, and that this is mostly fueled by the fact I really needed something to do.  Being stuck in my house with one good arm and pain meds isn’t as much fun as it sounds.  Shocking, I know.  I think I would have gone with the Devil.  And I was wondering if that was what I was indeed doing.

I packed a small overnight bag, just in case.  I drove to his place, pulled into his driveway, and took a deep breath.  This is just a trip with a friend.  This is just a trip with a friend.  This is just a trip with a friend.  My car door opened, startling me out of my centering-my-chi rant.  I looked up at the intruder, and a pair of light green eyes were smiling down at me.  M helped me out of my truck, then grabbed my bag from the back.  He directed me to his car.  I stopped and stared at the front seat, working up my courage.  Esme, are you alright?  I assured him I was good.  I got in, buckled up, and we set off.

We fell into conversation very easily.  We talked, we laughed.  The silences were not uncomfortable, but relaxing.  We talked like we haven’t since we met each other.  I asked about his family, and we talked about mine.  We talked about our childhoods.  We talked about politics and religion. We talked about a friend of his that has been cheating on his girlfriend for months.

E:  Do you think C is going to go straight?
M:  He says he is.
E:  Do you think you could go straight?  (I was teasing when I said this…smile on my face and all.  I know it isn’t something to tease about, but the situation is just fucked up.  I have to laugh about it).
M:  I doubt it.  I think about you all the time.

I couldn’t respond to this, so I kept silent and looked out the window.  M put his hand on my leg, and we drove in silence for a bit.

E:  I was really surprised to hear from you today, M.  Even more surprised you asked me along on this little trip.
M:  I’m surprised, too.
E:  Are you glad, too?
M:  Very much so.  I knew we could get along.  I knew we would laugh and have fun.  And I am glad I got to see you.

Occasionally the talk would come back to us, but it was never anything heavy.  It was truly just an easy-going drive.  We stopped for dinner and joked about how we looked like we were on the edge of Deliverance.  We laughed when a man in his sixties tried to pick me up.  A small disaster struck when I was walking out of a gas station. Someone slammed the door in my face-I thought they had seen me and would hold it open.  NOPE.  I put out my arms to avoid getting my nose broken, and my shoulder popped out.  DAMN…I knew I should have worn my sling.  I yelled out and doubled over in pain.  M heard me and ran over from his car.  He tried to help me stand, but fuck if he didn’t grab the wrong shoulder.  He inadvertently popped it back in, causing another yelp of pain.  Since I wasn’t going to have to drive for another four hours, I took some pain medicine and relaxed while he drove.

We finally picked up his new truck after the 23 year-old barely dressed hottie he bought it from tried to cause drama.  Small tangent here:  When I was 23 I wore clothes, and didn’t offer sexual favors for money.  But I digress.

By the time we hit the road, it was after one in the morning.  My shoulder was hurting me, I was tired, and we were still seven hours from home.  I finally texted him:  I need to stop.

After some back and forth, I agreed to drive another half hour to a college town, where hotels would probably be cheaper.  We found a small place, and I fell into bed fully dressed.  M stripped down to his boxer-briefs (way sexy, might I add), and climbed in next to me.  I made no move toward him, even when he put his hand on my hip.  Are you alright, E?  I told him I was, that I was just exhausted.  I wanted to turn around, and take cover under his arms.  But I didn’t.  Instead I climbed out of bed and put on my pajamas.  I got back under the covers, my back toward him.  His hand found his way back to my hip.  I sighed, and snuggled further into the bed.  He wrapped his arm around my waist and slammed me into his chest.  I wiggled to make myself comfortable, and that was the kiss of death.  I don’t need to write what happened next.

The next morning we got up, showered, dressed, and headed out on our way.  An hour into the drive we stopped for breakfast/lunch.  After we ordered our food, I took a deep breath and dove right in.

E:  Soo…what happens next?
M:  I don’t know.
E:  We really crossed a line last night.
M:  I did?
E:  No, we.  I could have said no.  I didn’t.  I’m just as much at fault as you are.
M:  This is true.  I don’t know what’s next.  I know I love you.  I know I want to spend time with you.  I am just having a hard time making it work.
E:  You made so many promises to me before.  And none you delivered on.  I have to wonder if you have been telling me what you think I want to hear, or the truth.
M:  Do you think I lied to you?
E:  I didn’t say that.
M:  I don’t need to lie to you to get sex.  I can get laid if that’s what you want to hear (he was angry).
E:  I put my hands on the table, leaned forward, and got in his face.  I just wanted to know if what you said was genuine.  And this is a hell of a lot more than just sex to you, so don’t you DARE sit there and tell me that it’s JUST.  SEX. I can get laid just as easy as you can.

M looked at me for a long minute, measuring my reaction.

M:  You’re right, Esme.  It isn’t just sex.  It’s a lot more than sex.  And that is what makes it so hard.  I want to have more time to spend with you.  I want to do things with you.  It hurts me when you ask when I can see you again, knowing I have next to no free time.  I thought it was better if I just cut you out all together.  It didn’t work.  What is it you want?
E:  I want you to not call me tomorrow and tell me you can’t do this anymore.
M:  I won’t.
E:  And I want no more promises, unless you intend to keep them.
M:  I understand.
E:  And I am not saying I am down with this anymore.  I’m not sure I can do it.  I like having you in my life.  I like that we get along.  I like the way I feel when I am around you.  But I also liked that you WEREN’T around all the time.  I liked that I could have my own life without you.  I liked that you don’t question what I am doing.  I was OK with all of it.  And you killed it.
M:  I know.  I still can’t promise you time.
E:  I know you are busy.  That was never an issue.
M:  How about this.  What if we just take it as it comes?  What if we can just agree to be relaxed about it?  Take a ‘wait-and-see’ approach?
E:  As long as you know that I won’t sit around and wait for you.  I’m not waiting for you to call.  And I am done waiting for you to figure out your shit.  If you can understand that, then we are all good.
M:  I do love you.

I just smiled, and finished my meal.  I love him, too, but I couldn’t tell him.  I’m not sure if he caught that or not.

M:  I still want to take you out for that dinner.  As long as you want to go.
E:  We will see.
M:  And you know you still owe me for the work I did on your car.
E:  I am not paying you for that.
M:  What?  I don’t think I heard you right.
E:  Yes you did.  I am not paying you.  I cried over you.  NOT PAYING.
M:  Is that how it’s going to be?  I do work on your car, then you cry so you don’t have to pay?  I see how it is.
E:  Glad we have an understanding.

We finished the drive without incident.  By the time I drove his new truck into his driveway, I was in tears.  My shoulder was so incredibly painful.  He loaded my bags into my truck, and gave me a long hug.

M:  I am so glad I asked you to come.  And I am so glad you went with me.  I had a great time.  I truly did.

I was in so much pain that I could do nothing but give a half-smile.  I didn’t even say good-bye. I left and drove straight home.  After I was properly medicated, I texted him and apologized for my bitchiness.  I also told him I had a great time as well.

His response?  You’re not, and I’m glad.

That made me smile.

Well…shit.  Just…shit.

Love, Esme


This Just Takes Too Much Thought!

14 Mar

BCM really does take too much thought.  I went down and stayed with him a recent night.  We went out, he introduced me to people, we had a lot of fun.  The next morning we were getting hot and heavy…when he got up and took a shower.  THE END.

What.  The.  Fuck.  I just stayed where I was at, and stewed a little bit.  When he was done with his shower and out of the room, I got up, got myself dressed, and got ready to leave.  BCM walked back into the room and said ‘You are mad’.  No, I replied, not mad.  Frustrated, hurt, incredibly pissed, but not mad.

Esme, he said, you drive me crazy.  I really really want to have sex with you.  I was about to do things to you that may not have been OK.  I had to get up and cool off.  (I just stared at him through all of this).  Listen, he said, you are leaving town to go visit friends for a week out-of-state.  Let’s get together after that, OK?  Let’s just wait and pick it up then.

BCM, that is the girliest thing I have ever heard a dude say.

I know.  But it feels right.

I sighed, because what else am I supposed to do, fucking jump him?  He walked me to my car and gave me a kiss goodbye.  So whatever.  It has to be easier than this to get laid.

Anyways! Last night I went out with Jake and some of his friends for his birthday.  I had an absolute blast.  We saw someone famous at the restaurant we went to (go us).  We checked out hot guys.  We went to the gayest Irish pub EVER.  I laughed more than I had in a long while.  I needed it.  And when I told Jake about BCM, he told me I am way too awesome to sit and wait for a man.  Awww…

So with that, I am headed out-of-state for a week.  It is already shaping up to be an interesting visit.  Case in point…Mr. Hottie texted me.  Hey, heard you’re coming to town.  We need to get together for that drink. Damn.  Damn damn damn damn FUCK!  The one I can’t turn down!  Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.  I am fighting this one with all I’ve got.  This is just bad juju. Stupid fire service…news travels faster than in Payton’s Place. Telephone, tell a friend, tell a fireman.

So with that I am off to pack.  I will of course update you all during my vacation!

Love, Esme


Finally! I know you want to know…

22 Oct

…and I can’t wait to tell you…

Read on Dah-lings…

I have been back in town for a few days, but my internet was on the fritz (hate fucking technology).  I venture to Starbucks, even though I don’t drink coffee, to get that new ORGASMIC salted pretzel caramel hot chocolate every morning.  I lugged my laptop with me one day-and one day only.  I looked like such a fucking tool sitting there at my little round table with my little white cup with the little white lid sipping my little sips so I don’t burn my tongue on this FUCKING deliciousness, that I couldn’t stand it.  I decided to never be that person again.  I don’t make million dollar deals, I don’t need to have technology at my beck and call (although I am sad to say I like it), so I decided to wait for the internet company to get off their fat asses and come fix the problem at my house.  Hence, the late post, and this way-too-long tangent.

Alright!  What was it I wanted to talk about?  Ahh yes…my little trip…

Nice Guy, henceforth referred to as NG, called me the morning I was set to leave and said we were going to go to a nice restaurant when I got into town.  Would I need to go back to his house and change?  Rule number 2 of being a bad girl?  We are always fucking prepared.  No, I wasn’t going to need to go back to his place.  I would be good to go.  And I was.

I walked off that airplane fucking ALL SYSTEMS GO.  I strutted in tall boots with 4-inch heels, form-fitting jeans, a deep v-neck sweater in a deep purple that really complimented my pale skin and dark hair.  I had straightened my naturally curly hair for an edgier look, and had given myself some rock star make-up.  People were moving the fuck outta my way as I was walking through that damn airport.  I walked out as he was pulling up (just like I had planned it…this bitch waits for no one), got in, and we sped off.  Damn did he look delicious.

At dinner he made sure he was sitting perpendicular to me.  He was holding my hand, running his fingers up and down my arm.  At one point he was staring at me while I was talking.  I stopped and asked ‘what?’, thinking something had happened.  He actually rendered me speechless…

‘I have no idea what the hell you are talking about.  You just look so fucking amazing tonight.  You have always looked good, but, WOW.  You are sexy.  I can’t stop staring.  I can’t stop touching.  The whole place just disappeared while I was sitting here looking at you.’

WOW, right??  Can this man talk a good game or what??  I actually broke a girl code…I had no response.  I smiled, blushed while he brushed my hair behind my ear, and leaned in for a kiss.  Fucking speechless.

He kept me speechless for a majority of the 5 days while I was there.  The next morning we went on a road trip to one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to in my entire life.  I got to watch ocean life frolic and play.  Take romantic walks along the water.  Sit on the patio of our hotel suite and listen to the waves crash on the shore.  Watch the almost-full moon glisten off the ocean in the middle of the night.  Eat some delicious seafood.  Drink a lot of alcohol.  Snuggle and kiss more than I ever thought possible.  Fall asleep in his arms each night.  Wake up each morning covered in kisses, and with laughter.  Spend my days and nights with someone who made me feel safe. And yes, dear readers with the dirty minds, we finally got down to business.  And it was fan-fucking-tastic. We definitely have no problems in the intimacy department…

It was, all in all, a very successful vacation.  A vacation-that unfortunately-left many more questions than answers.  I left with more feelings than I went with.  Fuck.  I left with more of an appreciation for him then I went with.  Fuck.  We never discussed the feelings or the expectations.  Fuck fuck fuck.  I didn’t realize them, however, until I got home and I woke up the next morning.  I rolled over in bed and stretched out my arm to the other side.  In my sleep-induced haze, I expected him to be there.  When it was empty, I had an overwhelming sadness.  FUCK!  FEELINGS!!  I hate feelings.  They are sooo…girlie…and to be honest, I never expected to find someone I wanted to share my bed with on a regular basis…

So here is where I stand on it…I don’t.  I’ve said before that I don’t think we will wind up together.  Every once in a while I find a job in that state I am interested in, and I apply for shits and grins.  Just to see.  Hasn’t happened.  He will never say ‘Move here and be with me’.  We are both stubborn ass-hats who won’t make the first move.  But I can tell all of you out there…and some of you may understand…I have finally met someone who I want in my life.  And I will take him anyway I can get him.  Even if it is just as a friend.  But, I will share this as well…I was talking to him yesterday and he sounded so…down.  I asked him what was wrong and he said he was dealing with me leaving.  I said aawwwwww.

Inside, I said FUCK YES!!!!!!

Yes, a fucking phenomenal vacation.  I loved it, needed it, craved it.  Gotta love anyplace where you get to rock your bad self…

Love, Esme