Editor’s note: Virginia Plain is the pseudonym of a twenty-something woman living in New York who just ended a four year relationship. Read her previous posts here, and check back next week for more.
My first post break-up hook-up happened. And it was… kind of magical? But maybe also annoying. I honestly can’t tell. It was a weird night.
It all started after the concert (because I don’t really go anywhere else these days.) My roommate and I were casually loitering around when she mentioned that she thought the drummer in one of the opening acts was cute. But she wouldn’t go talk to him despite the fact that he was standing just a few feet away. I decided this could be good practice for both of us. She’d get to talk to a guy she thought was cute. I could finesse my winging skills.
The drummer, we’ll call him Cuff Pants, was extremely nice and very cute (and Australian!), although a little awkward — just my roommate’s type. We helped him pack up some of his equipment and as we were heading out the door I was swept up in a bear hug by the lead singer of Cuff Pants’ band.
“You! I’ve been looking for you all night! I saw you in the audience,” he said as he pseudo-smothered me with enthusiasm. I stepped back and shook it off, said something coy and dismissive and pranced outside. “Don’t go too far. I’ll meet you outside!” he called after me.
And a few short minutes later he surprised me yet again by swooping me up in his arms and twirling me around much to the chagrin of a gaggle of fan girls. Now, I’d like to remind you that I don’t know this guy at all. To have so much physical contact with someone you don’t know and are just kind of meeting is completely unexpected. And maybe a little thrilling. He was wearing a vintage velvet jacket, no shirt and he had a shock of riotous curls. Let’s call him Crazy Jacket.
It wasn’t long before my roommate and I were escorted to the tour bus by Crazy Jacket and Cuff Pants to enjoy lukewarm Miller Light. The boys told us about Australia and we gamely asked questions, laughing at their incessant barrage of weird jokes we didn’t quite get. At one point we were talking about how they have Twix cookies in Australia and I said something pithy in response (if only I could remember what.) And then Crazy Jacket exclaimed,
“Oh my god, I’m in love. I’m in love with this girl, what I am going to do?”
The world stopped. Here were the words I had been desperate for Real Estate to utter for four years, words he stubbornly held on to because he either didn’t feel them or didn’t know how to express them. And here was I guy I had met only a few minutes prior who was already declaring his love for me. Now obviously I know he doesn’t love me like complete-madness-soulmate-love, but the irony wasn’t lost on me either. What had I been waiting around for? Clearly there were men in this world who could say those four little and oh so potent words, why had I tethered myself to someone who couldn’t?
The rest of the evening, and it was the entire rest of the evening, carried on with good old fashioned make-out sessions on top of cabs and in bars. But that wasn’t the only thing going on. Despite Crazy Jacket’s dramatic and wild behavior, we actually talked a lot. About him, his life, his family. And about me, my life, my family. Things we hoped for. What our spirit animals were. The conversation was peppered with him interrupting to tell random strangers that he loved me or how pretty I was and how he could look at my face forever. I had only just met him but I believed every word.
My roommate was hitting it off with Cuff Pants and wanted to bring him back to the apartment which meant Crazy Jacket would be coming back too. I was fine with that except I really didn’t want to hook up. I had a lot to do the next day and as attracted as I was to Crazy Jacket, he also sort of made me nervous. Plus, I’ve actually never brought a guy back to my apartment and I was a little worried that he’d expect, you know, things to happen.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. After talking for another long hour I told him point blank that I wasn’t sleeping with him to which he replied, “That’s OK. All I wanted was to make out and cuddle.” And that’s all that happened. As dawn crept through my window he pulled me close and held me as we slept through the early morning with nary a hand creeping north or south. It was completely lovely and exactly what I wanted.
The next day they were off, back on the road and I have no idea when or if I’ll ever see him again. We’ve been emailing a little (he doesn’t have a phone…because he’s Australian), but I can’t help but wonder. The whole night I felt I was being a little standoffish, more than I meant to be, because he was so intense and clearly into me which I haven’t really experienced in years.
Do I like him? I might. Hell, I might love him. I can’t really tell. We had a connection for sure, something deep and strange, but I have no idea what it means. I just wish I could see him again to know.