So remember that phone call I made to Bobby? And that super duper uber promise that I made myself to not date anyone for a good long while? It was like the 5th time I promised myself… but this time I meant it! Or at least I thought I did.
I invited Bobby to come hang out with some of my friends who live in the apartment complex down the street. We all hung out, played cards, got drunk (well I don’t really get drunk… but tipsy in the least). Anyways, at the end of the night Bobby was going back to his friend’s place to crash for the night, and I invited him to just come back to my place instead. I told him how I knew it was breaking all our promises, but we wouldn’t do any funny business, we would literally just sleep. And that’s exactly what happened… except not exactly.
A promise to yourself is the most fragile of promises. I think of it like opening a bottle of soda. I promise myself that I won’t drink the soda. But it’s lovely to look at the soda. And perhaps if I were to only unscrew the top, just enough to hear that satisfying hiss of gas whizzing out of the pressurized bottle… that’s not breaking my promise, right? The cap is still on! Well now that the seal is broken, it wouldn’t be that bad to unscrew it all the way off. The bottle sits in front of me, no cap, and I decide that letting it sit would be a waste, so I drink to soda. Oops. Breaking a promise to yourself doesn’t just include the action that actually broke the promise. The breaking happens with that initial unscrew of the cap, and once the seal is broken (before the soda is even consumed), the promise is broken.
Bobby sleeping over that night was like hearing that hiss of a broken seal. Even though we didn’t do anything that specifically violated my self-contract, it sure as hell got the ball rolling. The next night he slept over again, because we’d already done it once and it was fine, so why not, right? He slept over 6 times that week. The last 5 times, we did so much more than sleep. Oops.
I can’t keep myself off of him! Seriously, hooking up with Bobby is like skydiving with a mouthful of PopRocks (And just for the record, hooking up to me means everything but actual sex). Seriously, the chemistry between us is breathtaking. I have no idea how we haven’t had sex yet. The main thing holding myself off him is the fact I’m not on birth control. If I could get ahold of the pill without my parents knowing, it would be game over. We kiss, he touches me, I touch him, I moan, he moans, we breathe, its like synchronized swimming. I distinctly remember one night when things were getting particularly heated. I’ve given Andrew a few BJs, and didn’t particularly enjoy them. I had given one to Bobby before too, and again I didn’t like it. But this night I decided to try it again, and I actually kinda liked it! And he (of course) was so into it. The whole time he was moaning “f**k yes”, which is super hot because he’s such a gentleman and never cusses. After some more heavy kissing and touching the night came to a sort of climax, and then finally settled back down. We lay down on the bed, out of breath actually, and Bobby exclaims “HOLLLLY SH**. Where the hell did that come from?!”. Every time I think about that night I get butterflies! If we ever have sex… we’re going to tear the house down.