We got to the hotel and he handed the keys to the valet. I was doing my best to think this was completely normal.
He reached out and grabbed my hand and led me to the elevator, carrying my bag for me. I was speechless. The doors closed and he was there in front of me, the lips I’d craved for so long… touching mine. Inches off the ground and perfectly lined up with what I always dreamed of. Here he was… my everything… with the hands I’d always wanted to touch… pulling me to a hotel room in paradise.
How in the hell did I get here?
He opened the door to our room and poured me a cup of rum. I told him I thought I might be allergic… but it’s been since high school and I need a little liquid courage. He’s teaching me to chase it with guava juice. I’m laughing because I drink vodka on the rocks- so this is a little more sissyfied than I’m used to. Whatever- I can hang.
He kisses me… I set my rum down… and he smiles…. and I get it. I know what every bad date was worth because I love this man so completely I can’t breathe. He’s my everything… and I admit to it immediately.
J- I love you.
T- I love you too.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzip…. and my dress falls to my feet…. and the rest is too graphic to share. Regardless of the outcome I can honestly admit that it was the most amazing connection I’ve ever had- and intimately it will be hard to beat. I give credit where credit is due, and this man has his bases covered. Sexual warfare… nuff said.
He showed me beautiful things… he took me beautiful places… we giggled and laughed and fell in love over El Hamburger and sunshine. It was magic.
He fished a J shaped piece of coral out of the ocean and handed it to me while wrapping the chubby thighs I’d been so self conscious about, around his waist… kissing the saltwater off of my lips while I thanked God, all the angels & saints.
Eating the most amazing food, drinking the most amazing drinks, and having the time of my life in paradise with the man of my dreams. I can’t very well regret something like that, can I?
The second to last night… things turned a little. Shit got real….
We’d been at the beach all day and were clearly not going to make our dinner reservations. He rescheduled and started drinking rum. He only poured a glass for himself and I was content curled up next to him… lost in sunshiny salt-water sweetness. Stupid in love… and a movie came on.
He pointed to the actress on the screen and said…
T- That’s my favorite line on a woman. That definition in her six pack… that line…
A line that I clearly do not have. Huh.
T- Let’s go out. I’m hungry. You’re buying.
I got ready in ten minutes and he was still in his boxers… still drinking. I was worried about him driving and did NOT want to drive.
J- Baby what about room service?
T- No. You’re taking me out tonight. I get to be the girl tonight.
We got in the car and I was worried. I kept thinking about them really having to tell my mom I actually did DIE in Puerto Rico… I knew she was worried…
He was driving 35 mph over the limit… and looked over and smiled at my stunned wide-eyed face… and took his glasses off and put them in the center console.
J- Honey put those back on. Please.
T- They’re only for looks.
J- No they’re not… I tried them on yesterday!
He’s not negotiating… and I’m wishing I had four more seatbelts.
We get there… and go out… and the restaurant is closed but he asks them if they’ll make something anyway. I’m horrified… but they agree and we sit down to eat the weirdest fried chicken and fried cheese, ever. He doesn’t ask me if/what I want… and I pick at the chicken a little… but not much.
He’s making a big deal about being the girl on the date, and telling me I need to ask for the La Quenta… I’ve gone to Mexico every winter since I was a kid, I know how to ask for the check in Spanish… I’m just shy in front of him and he is only making it worse. He starts to pick me apart.
T- You need to want more. You need to be more successful for your kids. You’re not doing what you should and I don’t know if you ever will. You need to write your son off. Fuck him. He needs to understand what it is to feel your cold shoulder.
I start to cry.
J- I can’t. I love him. I miss him every day. I can’t leave them. I won’t leave them. Even if he hates me, he’s still just down the street. My daughter is the center of my life. I’ll never leave her.
T- You need to live your own life. I like being the girl on the date. Let’s go. Ask for the la quenta…
I tip them 50% of our tab for making us food after they were closed, and we move to his favorite martini bar. Tantra. Every drink on the menu is based on the Kama Sutra and they all have rose petals floating in the glass. Beautiful and delicious. I have a stress headache and he’s making it worse. He starts talking about the Indian girl’s body and how sad it is that “none of them have tits”. I’m uncomfortable and he’s only getting worse. He starts in about the la quenta again and I’m only too happy to leave.
His other favorite bar is closed and he’s pissy. We walk into another one, and sit at the bar. The bartender is busy making drinks and my charming date starts to snap his fingers. I’m horrified and beg him to stop and he starts to clap. I want to dig a hole and climb in. The bartender walks over to us…snaps his fingers once and asks what he can get for us.
T- We’ll have two Caipirinhas.
J- No. I’ll have a double Goose on the rocks.
T- Ohhhhh feeling feisty? I’ve read about you and Grey Goose.
J- Yeah you’ve read about Veruca too, and you’d better brace yourself because Veruca on Goose is not funny.
He orders me another one… and I’m tipping the poor bartender $10 on each round. So embarrassed and so insulted that he would be so rude to someone that does the same job I do. Disappointed and offended. We leave and make our way back to the car and at this point I know he’s going to be the death of me. I pay the parking and he asks the parking attendant if he wants me, because I don’t want to go anywhere else with him and I’m making him go home. It’s 3 in the morning and I’m exhausted and unhappy. Moderately drunk, but more disgusted than anything.
And he can’t remember where he parked the car. 13 levels of cars in the wee hours of the morning and I’m in my favorite stilettos with my drunk asshole boyfriend and I snap.
J- Are you fucking kidding me? I cannot believe you tonight. You told me I didn’t want to meet your “Tommy” personality and I can definitely agree with you now. You’re being a jackass.
and he find it… and we drive back to the hotel in silence, and I head straight to the bar and order a drink and he ignores me. He sits for a while in the lobby… then sits on the opposite side of the bar… and stops to say one thing to me on his way out…
T- Ya know… this isn’t even a tenth of Tommy and you can’t handle it. That concerns me.
I start to cry and he walks away, flinging a room key at me. The guy next to me picks it up from the floor and sets it on the bar.
What have I gotten myself into?