July 13, 2002
Michael Revelry #2
Last night would've found me wrapped in Mike's arms, being rocked slightly, talking about lucid dreaming and our parents and my dating inexperiences. The sweet reverie of my nearly falling asleep would've been broken by his feeling the need to bite me.
So my parents were either suffering from identity crisis' or really really drunk last night, because they not only consented that yes, I could go out after work, they also didn't put up any sort of a fight. So at around midnight, I was changed and on my way over to Mike's new place to join the small crowd that was assembling there.
We arrive. It's all people from Argosy, lounging around, playing with roommate Kevin's huge dog Alex and listening to music. Mike tries in vain to show me all the channels they have on cable, and succeeds only in breaking the remote. I taunt him ruthlessly.
He then gives me a tour of the house, as it is now at least partially assembled. In his room he shows me his little chef incense burner, who, when lit, smokes out of his mouth. We are crouched on his bedroom floor, and then, instead of clamoring back up and going out to join the 'party' he just scoots back and leans against his bed.
"I'm not much of a people person." He says, and I heartily agree. So we sit in his room and talk, and the music comes in all muffled and does not disturb our conversation. He has to close the door to keep the dog out, and I tell him he's not allowed to take advantage of me.
He nods.
Due to lack of sleep and sheer stupidity, what we spoke about escapes me entirely. I honestly don't remember. But I know we talked, for quite some time, actually.
He starts to kiss me. I return the gesture. After a moment he pushes my back to the carpet, and for a brief moment I entertain his hands on my stomach, his kisses on my neck.
Then I push him away and sit up.
He looks at me and reads immediately on my face that which my mouth has not yet conveyed.
"Too fast."
And it was, and it wasn't. Dating is all a progression, as is those activities which accompany it. I'm not ready to get into it with him now, not yet.
This is when Mike gets really cool in being totally understanding, and somewhat apologetic. His arms go round me, the conversation resumes as though never interrupted.
This is why he is cool. Kissing him is lovely indeed, but talking with him is a fair match.
After a while we return to the living room. Roommate Shane has fixed the cable, and is subjecting their guests to VH1 Classic. Mike drowns out the television with the stereo, putting on the self titled Korn album for my benefit.
He collapses on the couch, pressing his chin into my shoulder.
"How can you be so sweet and innocent and listen to Korn?"
I shrug, and he kisses my hair.
He then subjects me to Pantera, and after fumbling through the tracks and never finding the one he was looking for, it is decided that I should probably go home. It's roughly three in the morning. We jest that I could just call and say I'd be going straight into work instead of coming home.
Nevermind the fact that I don't have work until three today.
The drive home isn't long enough, and Mike slows down to 35 miles per hour. Other excuses were posed for this, mainly his desperate search through his twenty cds for one song, but I will continue to humour myself.
We conclude in my driveway that we are just going to live in his truck, that way I don't have to get out. He strokes my hair and down my cheek, whispers that he is "putting me in a trance." I giggle, but keep my eyes closed.
I'm keeping him.
Despite a late night, I was up at regular time this morning, 10:27 on the nose. I feel delightful and can only hope that this feeling will be perpetuated.
Would I be silly if I said that this felt like the beginning of something drawn out and wonderful?
I just don't know what will happen. I think Mike is more than grand. I think I'm going to try my damndest when I start school to keep things from falling apart.
I can't want a poet when I have this boy who sings loudly and tonelessly along to Blues Traveler, then explains exactly why he loves this song, and why he can't not sing along, apologizes for his voice, taps my knee at the key parts.
I tell him it's okay, that I think it's cute.
He thanks me.
astera at 10:50 a.m.