#roosevelt oom

I am a highly sexually charged person (if you couldn’t tell), and I talk about sex openly. I check out men and women, and I am not afraid of experimentation. This a good thing in my estimation. Unfortunately, I haven’t mastered the art of emotional detachment in the sex department. I tend to think of this as a good thing; however, it would be a very helpful skill in this situation. The funny part is that I got my orgasm back after we had an honest conversation. So not only am I having sex with a man who doesn’t want to be with me, but the sex is fucking awesome now. 

We had our work holiday party on Friday. I planned the shindig at Speakeasy, a bar that stays true to its name and has a certain gritty, underground vibe with lots of leather chairs, a bowling alley and a pool table. I wore a ridiculous glitter dress, true to form, and I think the boss’s wife hates me. Way to play the “hot personal assistant’ card. Good job, me. (More of my awesome critical thinking skills in action.) I played pool with WC’s assistant against the boss’s wife and another guy’s wife, and I miraculously shot the winning 8 ball into the pocket. That never happens. WC’s assistant gave me a creepy hug, and it was then apparent that he wants to sleep with me too. What an interesting threesome that would be. Later, I told WC my concerns about his little protege, and he already knew that the other guy wants me. He said that he might have to have an awkward conversation with him at some point.  Does that mean that WC wants to lay claim to me? So many mixed messages. 

WC and I went out with a few co-workers after the party, including WC’s boss, our sexy hipster graphic designer, and the designer’s 23 year old girlfriend who I would like to kidnap for a wild threesome with WC and I (see: Unicorn). She is this sexy little blonde girl with an attitude who originated in Sacramento. A California girl after my own heart, really.  WC got a little grabby at the bar, holding me around the waist and touching my back. His boss who knows about us told me that she would have guessed our involvement based on his body language if I hadn’t already told her. In any case, she’d never seen the two of us together like that, and for some reason I feel some sexual tension around her and him and me. I am not sure what that means, but it is an interesting dynamic. After the after-party, the three of us went back to my place where we listened to music together and drank more beer. When she left, WC and I had wild, drunken sex until we exhausted ourselves and fell asleep next to one another. WC and I spend a lot of time together for two people who aren’t together. 

The morning after our holiday party, I woke up in his arms still drunk, and we decided to carry the party into brunch. We had bellinis and frittatas at Taverna on 2nd street, which has mediocre food and the best $2 champagne drinks in town. The waiters there are incredible -- I think that morbid, off-color joke-telling skills are apart of the job interview process. Our waiter that morning told us that he’d like to request “Jingle Bells” as the soundtrack to his funeral and talked shit about the fake blind guy who wanders the street in front of the restaurant dancing and yelling at people. You’ve got to love a fake blind guy almost as much as you love the waiter who maligns him. It was a hilarious breakfast, to say the least. 

Over mimosas, I told WC that he’s actually my frenemy because all we do is shit talk together. The strange part of this exchange was the look he had on his face when I called him a frenemy and the heart pangs I felt when he looked at me that way. It was as if I hurt him by saying that. I carried the joke into the rest of the morning and afternoon. We went to the Google Fiber station in downtown, decorated picture frames with little kids, and took raunchy photos inside of a holiday snow globe. Then we coaxed the morning into afternoon by drinking whiskey and cider at bars all across Austin. He admitted that I tick a lot of boxes on his woman qualification list, and I admitted that I don’t believe any one person is capable of ticking every box. We talked about my full relationship history -- the sordid part -- and I don’t think that he was particularly perturbed. After our afternoon of drinking, we ordered espresso coffee concoctions and kissed indoors while watching the hazy, Saturday drizzle. We have a lot of fun together, and the ease with which we talk and enjoy each other’s company is unreal. It’s like he’s my person. 

Because we drank all day, I had the genius idea that we should take the molly that was left over from the gypsy caravan that crashed at my house. I thought it would be brilliant if we enjoyed the trip by walking a few miles to the Trail of Lights, a giant christmas light show in Zilker Park. Apparently everyone in the entire city decided to go to the same destination. We showed up rolling, feeling nauseous, trying not to step on any small children. We were very high and very uncomfortable in the 75 degree freak-heatwave on Saturday night. It was overstimulation at its finest, and it was terrifying. After the trail, we headed to the giant Christmas tree that was fashioned from the moon tower and over 3,000 lights hanging from the top. If you spin beneath the tree, it looks like an immersive light-up top rotating above your head. WC was too tripped out to spin, but we were both giggling like crazy. We stopped laughing long enough to share a kiss beneath the tree. It was wildly romantic. This might be the MDMA talking, but that kiss felt like everything. 

We walked back to my house after the Trail of Lights, and we were pooped after a four mile walk and a crazy night. We tried to go to sleep, but instead of drifting into oblivion, we ended up having the most mind-blowing sex of my life. I had the biggest orgasm in recent memory. OMFG. 

I drove him back to his place around 11 am today after we enjoyed breakfast tacos and espresso drinks at Dominican Joe’s around the corner. We were both wildly disheveled after our weekend of sex, drinking and debauchery. He told me that I am beautiful today, and I couldn’t take the compliment. After I dropped  him off today, I realized a terrible thing. I may be in love with him, and he doesn’t want to be with me.