Different Area Codes (Part 3)
Dear audience, out of respect for those going through a dry-spell, I will spare you the detailed play-by-play (although the details are juicy) of James’ and my hook-up.
After the fireworks ended, my friend went home early so I was relieved from my duty of being the “responsible” single girl I’d been in the days leading up to this moment. What followed played out like a typical (though raunchy) young adult rom-com: James and I finally got it on. At the post Canada Day party. Although – and I blush as I admit this – our tryst was a bit premature…Yes, my dear readers, I was, not reluctantly, lured into the coat room, pre-party, where we got it on… on the pile of other partygoers’ jackets.
OK, realistically I wasn’t lured (I definitely came – no pun intended – willingly). And it wasn’t the “coat room”; it was the host’s room (even worse! some might say!). There were also no jackets there, because it was a warm summer’s night. However, there was a lot of inappropriateness going down. I was pleasantly surprised that “the game” that I had thought James lacked outside the bedroom, definitely reared its head in the bedroom.
After my Canada Day fireworks, James and I saw one another once more before I left. As my vacation was ending, I invited him to our rooming quarters for the last night that we were there. Despite the fact that my friend enjoyed James’ company and found him almost as charming – and definitely as funny – as I thought he was, she was skeptical of the awkward situation that his presence would precipitate. But James – bless his something – had a plan.
When faced with the obvious wingman situation, it is imperative that you proceed with caution because you never know if your friend and the wingman will get along. There is nothing worse than alienating either of the parties and – James was astute enough to realize this – I wasn’t going to ditch my friend so that he could satisfy all my needs, while she sat on the sidelines, pondering all the things her boyfriend could be doing to her, had she just. stayed. home. So, he brought in reinforcement.
His friend was funny and charming and – in normal circumstance – amazing wingman material. However, there was one thing that made the friend/wingman combination impossible: he was single, she was not. He was a classic wingman and would perform well whilst picking up in a bar. However, he was no match for my friend, who is naturally predisposed to hating men, especially those sent in to charm the pants off of her (literally). I could tell my friend was in no mood to deal with the situation, and that she was putting on a brave face. Against my better judgment, I succumbed to a little bit of insanity, as I allowed myself to be talked into some quick fun while the impossible duo was otherwise occupied.
As some – who have experienced this – know, there isn’t really anywhere to go, to be alone, when you’re living in an unfurnished house with an inflatable mattress for your sleeping arrangements. Keeping this in mind, James and I chose the backseat of his car. Yes, it seems that the whole “young adult” romance theme was going to stick after all. After the steamy session was over (complete with a hand print down the window à la “Titanic”) we both exited the car only to be caught red-handed by our friends, who had been wondering where we had disappeared to, and came looking for us. The night ended shortly thereafter as we were all tired (James and I for the obvious reasons). So, with a quick kiss, a wave good bye, and a promise to get together again, James got back into the car we’d just exited, and drove away.
By the end of my vacation tryst, I knew that – not only did I have a hoe in a different area code – I would definitely be back for mo’.