Y’all remember skorts, right? They were pretty popular in the 90s and looked like skirts, but had shorts built in, so that the boys wouldn’t see your Little Mermaid panties when you hung upside down on the jungle gym. Well, I’m here to tell you that if you ever find one made for an adult, it is not proper zoo date attire.
Me: “It’s actually a skort and has shorts sewn in… they don’t usually make them for adults. I got it at Goodwill for three dollars.” :: Fuck. Why am I telling him this? :: “I just didn’t have any shorts and I didn’t want to wear a dress to the zoo.”
Jake: “Why not?”
Me: :: Because my thighs will rub together all day like Jiminy Cricket and I won’t be able to walk tomorrow. :: “Um. It just sounded really uncomfortable.”
If you decide to wear a skort on any date, shut the fuck up about it. Bee tea double ewe, the skort didn’t even help. My thighs still looked like raw hamburger meat the next day.
Jake and I had a really great date at the zoo and it was my treat this time. I received a free pass for two when I gave blood, which admittedly had a steeper price than originally thought, when I passed the fuck out on our last date. I managed to make it through the zoo, however, despite the insane heat, with just the one asthma inhaler stop. As much as I want him to come up with an idea occasionally and didn’t want to discourage Jake from doing so, the zoo was pretty much the worst idea for July in the South. Yeah, yeah, all of the animals were out and Jake realized that my reaction to every single living creature is pretty much “It’s so cute! Look at the ears!” We had plenty to talk about and I got to tease him about his hunting… sometimes inappropriately for a public place.
Me: “It’s a LION! Put away your gun… wow… I said that really loudly.”
It was also a lot of walking in the heat.
Boys just don’t think about this stuff, particularly ones who work outside, but I’m a librarian, y’all. I have pretty much zero reason to be outside right now unless I want to, which usually involves a pool. So, while I had a great time and Jake humored my desire to look at every animal, never complaining when we got lost and backtracked, I was just a bit self-conscious by the time we left. Worse, when we went to lunch, I was shivering like it was fucking Winterfell.
Jake: “Are you really that cold?”
There’s just no hiding what an indoor girl I can be, folks.
After lunch, we went to another movie, Trainwreck this time. While the movie was absolutely hilarious, I am so glad we didn’t see it on an earlier date.
After the movie, Jake also bought dinner (there go my bragging rights about covering the zoo) and took me home. At this point, I asked him to come inside and was quite proud of myself for not clarifying that this was not a sexual invitation. I’d just cleaned and organized my apartment to a point no man would even realize, so I was comfortable having him in my space and we all saw how our last porch conversation turned out…
I’m just gonna pencil this in under Shit I’ll Never Live Down.
Jake suggested we watch a movie and we sat on my couch with his arm around me and watched two terrible horror movies on Netflix. Regardless of poor quality, I scream like a fucking banshee at the slightest provocation in horror, as Jake had already seen on date three, during the Sinister 2 trailer.
Me: “Last time my neighbors saw you with me unconscious on the ground and tonight they saw you go inside and heard screaming. ‘He didn’t even have the decency to drug her this time!'”
:: cop gives previously uncooperative girl ice cream and she starts talking ::
Jake: “So all you have to do to get the girl to open up is give her ice cream?”
Me: “I’d open up for anyone if they gave me ice cream… not physically… that’s what they really mean by ‘we all scream for ice cream.'”
That’s right, Belle. Keep talking.
After the second movie, Jake turned off Netflix and finally kissed me… on date six. One thing led to another though and kissing pretty quickly led to making out. Honestly, it was a little awkward at first, which was most definitely all my fault for not knowing what the hell I was doing and overthinking technique. You know what doesn’t really lessen that awkwardness? Apologizing for it. Jake was really sweet, though, and when I pulled away to tell him that I didn’t want things to go too far, he completely respected my wishes… quite a bit more than I did. Yeah, I was a good girl and said the words, but the signals I was sending weren’t exactly aligned. Still, while Jake could’ve easily taken things a little further, he pulled away and said we should stop. It’s a good thing, too, because while I’m comfortable with where it went, I would not have been had things escalated.
Though it was around 1:00 in the morning at this point and Jake needed to be up early, he stayed and talked with me for at least an hour. I’d told him that he was essentially the second person I had ever kissed and I think he could tell I was feeling a bit vulnerable. It was nice and I walked him to the door, where he kissed me before he left. I texted Gail and we made plans to go out the next day so I could give her all of the inappropriate details.
Now, I love my Gaily. She’s my best friend and my sister in every way that matters outside of a chem lab. My first inclination was obviously to tell her everything. My second, though… well, my second was to call my mom. Things with my mom aren’t good and I just don’t think we’ll ever heal that rift unless she gets treatment for the severe mental illness she insists she doesn’t have. I know that… but I still wanted to call her up and tell her all about the boy I met and how he opens doors and he gets my humor and he wasn’t turned off that I apologized for being a bad kisser. In every way, Gail’s the better choice, be it for the initial gossip or the three days later reassurance that the fact that Jake had only texted twice that day didn’t mean he thought I was a whore and never wanted to see me again.
Still, I, the girl who insists that emotion belongs with the last fucking Horcrux…
Me: “I actually miss him, which is just disgusting. Ugh.”
Gail: “Oh, yes. ‘Emotions! Ewwww.‘”
… cried some genuine and gut-wrenching tears that I couldn’t experience the joy of sharing this moment with my mother. I did so while watching That 70s Show and sniffling to the dog that I wished Kitty Foreman was my mom… a ritual I usually save for birthdays and holidays. Then, I dried my eyes, went out with Gail, and shared and laughed over every detail… perhaps a bit too loudly.
:: pulled up to a stoplight, with the windows down ::
Me: “I wasn’t wet. I was hot. It’s… the way the fabric goes. It was like a WEDGIE. IT WAS LIKE I WAS DRY-HUMPING A WED—.” :: look out my window to see the driver next to us has his down as well and is staring :: “Go forward. RUN THE LIGHT.”
Me: “You’re going to tell Terry about this, aren’t you?”
Gail: “Oh my God. I’m going to tell my seventh child about this! I am going to have seven children just so I can my seventh one about this.”