He was the second, and last, person I met off POF. New to WA himself, he was looking for friends, and being that he was also from So Cal it seemed it was fate we had met. We texted pretty heavy, mostly about music and movies, finally setting a date to meet. He only had one picture on his profile, stating he refused to take another, so I had little idea what to expect. Feeling anxious, especially after my last POF date disappointment, I was thankful to be meeting publicly and not for sex. It was safe to say, I had no idea the impact this man was about to make on my life. I had no idea that we were about to fall in love.
We met at the movies, which was also my job at the time. He came wearing black pants, a denim jacket, with band patches and a black beanie. I wore a sundress. He was much more my type than the pictures had conveyed, making me instantly panic. Sweating a little, I led him into the theater with little convo, moving awkwardly, evading his glances. As I sat next to him I remember staring at him out of the corner of my eyes, anxiety and excitement building with each glance. Trying my best to hide my grin each time our eyes accidentally locked.
When it was over, he asked what I wanted to do next. “Well, if you have the time we could go to Seattle? We can go on an adventure?” He instantly agreed. We spent the entire day together, exploring and talking, until it was dark and chilly. Going from the Troll Bridge, to overlooking Seattle at Gasworks Park, ending the evening at Carkeek Park where we watched the sunset over the Puget Sound. It was one of the best days I had had in a long time, and I could tell he felt the same, especially when he suggested we keep hanging. We went back to my apartment where exhausted and sore from the day, we cuddled up in my bed and quickly fall asleep. Right before I dozed off I remember thinking that it was like I had already known him forever.
We hung out for 48 hours straight. Just smoking, eating and binge watching Netflix shows from my couch. He had yet to make a move on me despite the obvious attraction and having shared the bed with me for the last two nights. So even with our apparent connection, I could heard my best friends voice in my head screaming, “If it seems too good to be true, the dick probably sucks.” I knew I needed to find out before pushing forward. “No one this awesome just exists,” I though. Oh, was I wrong.
I start kissing him heavily and slid my hand down his shorts, only to come in contact with what is still one of the best dicks I've seen. I immediately look at him excitedly. He laughed and pushed me on the bed while sliding off my panties. Eating my pussy till my legs shook and clamped the sides of his head, then threw my legs up over his shoulders as he slid it in. Umphhhh. To say the sex was amazing would be a true understatement. Taking my breath away with each stroke, each re-insertion. Rolling around all over the bed, dripping sweat from the summer heat and lack of WA central air. Transitioning from him on top, to me, then back to him. Stroking it just right until we came, coincidentally, at the same time. As his body dropped on the mattress with my stomach covered in cum, I just laid, staring in awe. We had cum together. Which up until now, I had thought was only a thing of romantically inaccurate fairy tales. A few days later he told me he loved me and without hesitation I said it back.
I knew I loved him. It was like for the first time ever, I genuinely cared how someone's day was. And I don't mean that in the way it sounds, but I wanted all the boring details and bullshit work drama you can't truly understand unless you're there. I just wanted to hear him talk, honestly, I loved everything about his words and mouth and hand motions. He cuddled and kissed me with purpose and although he didn't really convey many emotions well vocally, he listened. It was like I had met someone and for the first time I was actually heard. I had a voice. I mattered. He was always checking menus for vegetarian dishes before suggesting restaurants and then, when I got the stomach flu, he slept in the hallway to make sure I was okay. I knew details about his life, his small habits, preferences, and he knew mine. And for the first time ever, I was cumming every time we fucked. I had fallen hard and could not get up.
It was hard to care about each other as strongly as we did, especially considering where we were in our lives. His primary focus was becoming a chef. Mine was, well, mine was just trying to figure out anything I'd want to possibly do career wise. So after an awesome 8 months of dating, I decided to start a new adventure on the east coast. I needed something new and he needed to focus. We weren’t accomplishing either together despite how strong our connection was. We spent our last night together on the floor of his bedroom. Evading each other's glances and carrying awkward conversations, just like the first time we met. Only this time with no excitement.
He was the best boyfriend I've had and for that I will always be tremendously appreciative. So cheers. Cheers to the boy who taught me what I wanted in a partner.
Cheers to the boy who showed me that I deserved more.