One Man’s Hookup Is Another Woman’s Boyfriend
It’s never my intention to go out to a bar hoping to get laid. I never think, Tonight, I will be balls deep. I just know it! I try to let these things happen with no expectations.
Sometimes, though, there are complications….
I was out with some friends one night. Buzzing after six or so happy hour drinks, I started talking to this guy I’ll call Heavy C. Heavy C had a square jaw, the beginning stages of salt-and-pepper hair, an olive complexion, and he was built–but not in a scary “my head is visibly much smaller than my body” kind of way. He was just right.
We talked about things I don’t remember, and after a few minutes, he cut to the chase.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
“Ugh!” I replied in relief. “I’m so glad you asked.”
“Are you okay to drive?”
I squinted my already non-existent eyes and flapped my hands at him like I had just swatted a fly away from my face. “If I’m standing, then I can drive.”
Heavy C asked me to follow him back to his place, and I was practically high-fiving myself as I walked to my car.
After thirty minutes of following him onto various highways, I discovered that we were on the way to the airport. My first thought was that we were going on an overnight getaway. My second thought was that he was going to shank me in the parking garage.
Finally, we pulled into a hotel garage, where I parked next to him and got out.
“Do you live here?”
He chuckled politely and told me that he was here for work.
Normally, I distance myself from hookups as much as I can. I don’t ask them what they do, what their last name is, or what existing drug habits they have. There’s no point really if it’s a one-time deal.
“How long are you here for?” I asked as we walked into the elevator, searching for something to talk about.
“For another two days. I’m swamped with work, though.” He looked out the elevator window. “I don’t have much time for this kind of stuff.”
He sounded like he was hiding something. Like he had something to tell me, but was too nervous to say it. So, we talked about Walt Disney World instead.
When we got to his hotel room, he offered me dinner from room service.
“I’m not really hungry,” I lied, not wanting to take up any of his time.
“Do you at least want a beer or something?”
I smiled and told him I was fine.
Heavy C went into the bathroom, and I took a moment to to glance around. I noticed a giant stack of paper neatly placed on his desk. Taking a closer look, I tilted my head sideways and realized they were legal documents. On the desk chair was a leather briefcase, and on the floor was a neatly organized collection of shiny shoes.
“What do you do?” I asked.
“I’m a corporate lawyer,” Heavy C replied through the open bathroom door.
I figured as much. The paperwork, his well-dressed attire, a rigid personality, and shoes that made a clack when his heels hit the ground. Subtleties about a person can say a lot about their personality, which is why I’ve always been fascinated by people’s belongings. I’ve always thought of people ultimately defined by what they own.
He came out from the bathroom and asked if I had a condom. I laughed and told him that I didn’t.
“We can still do other things, right?” he insisted.
“Oh, yeah!” I said nodding my head slowly. “I didn’t drive out here just to find out I have to go home!”
We undressed and started making out. Heavy C was packing in his pants, and despite everything else that turned me on about him, he had body hair almost everywhere. Thankfully, his tan skin didn’t make the hair look noticeable, so it wasn’t as shocking as a hairy guy with pale skin. Now that’s scary.
After we came, he hopped into the shower, and I went to go pee before saying anything else.
“Sorry about not shaving,” he said almost regretfully from behind the shower curtain. “It’s annoying.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you knew I would be over.” I flushed the toilet and went to wash my hands. “Some guys are into that.”
“But my girlfriend loves it.”
I scrunched my eyebrows together and looked at the mirror as if he were standing in front of me.
“You have a girlfriend….”
“Yeah, she doesn’t let me shave, but I think it’s gross. Especially with summer coming.”
How does it all add up? I thought.
“Hey,” he said after a moment’s pause. “You there?”
I didn’t say anything right away.
“Does she know you hook up with guys?”
“No way! I only do this when I’m out of town.” He turned off the water and asked, “Do you need to shower?”
“I think I’ll be okay. I’m going for a run when I get home.”
It’s never bothered me when a man does things on the side without his significant other’s knowledge. I’ve always looked at it as the couple’s problem to deal with, not mine. It doesn’t justify my fooling around with a guy who has a girlfriend, but this time, I was unaware of it. Had I known he had girlfriend, I probably (probably) wouldn’t have hooked up with him.
Of course, this reasoning has made me reluctant to become committed myself, because I know that my boyfriend could potentially do the same things Heavy C did to his girlfriend. Call it trust issues, insecurities, or paranoia, but these things can happen to anyone, and I know I’m not ready to fall into that again. Maybe Heavy C was a testament to my belief that not everyone is ready for a relationship. And this was a man whom everyone probably thought of as “professional.” A man who had his grind together, but just wasn’t happy in one part of his life insofar as he was cheating on his girlfriend with other guys.
After Heavy C stepped out of the shower and dried off, I hugged him and thanked him for having me over. I’ve never found the right words to say to a guy after I hook up with him, as my usual parting words are “see you soon.” Obviously that wasn’t an option with Heavy C, so I whispered, “bye” just as he was closing the door.
He was genuinely a nice guy, fantastic in bed, and it was a shame that he didn’t live locally. And since neither of us had exchanged numbers to meet up again, I was bummed out we didn’t actually have sex.
I walked through the hotel lobby to get to the parking garage. The back of my hair matted to my head with a rather large hickey on my neck. I felt like how I always did when I leave a guy’s place: 25% dirty, 50% satisfied, 15% empty, and 10% ready for bed.
This time, however, I was also pissed, because I didn’t leave a hickey for Heavy C. That way, at least his girlfriend would have known to leave him.