31-50

Back to this again!

31. Quote the nicest thing anyone has ever said about you.
Over the summer, one of the senior bosses was someone I felt a bond with. I enjoyed talking to him and we certainly bonded (he sanctioned my wine drinking and treated me like an adult). He's gay so there wasn't anything questionable there, it was just two kindred spirits of sorts. On my last day at work, I gave out thank you notes and went around saying goodbyes and had a great conversation with him. Later, his secretary (whom I also got along with) sent me an email letting me know that he mentioned something about how "it's because of people like [me] that I see hope for the future". That is hands-down the nicest compliment I've ever received.

32. Are you afraid of the dark?  Why or why not?
Not unless you count being home alone at night being afraid of the dark. That's when every bump and thud makes me paranoid and anxiously awaiting the return of my roommates.

33. Describe the longest amount of time you have ever been away from home.
College. Unless you count it as a home. Which I sometimes do.

34. Write about a recent adventure or travels.
(See previous posts about visit to F).

35. Who did you idolize growing up?
I'm not even sure. I don't think there were specific people - perhaps an actress, perhaps Britney - but it was more about ideals and beliefs.

36. Name a celebrity or famous person you wish would take you out on a date.
Joseph Gordon-Levitt. If he's actually gay, he would still be a great friend to have. If we're including friend dates, probably also Jennifer Lawrence/ Emma Stone.

37. Describe your daily routine when you get out of bed in the morning.
I used to be a lot better at waking up to my alarm instantly, but now I snooze it at least once or twice. I check my phone for notifications and tweets and messages, roll out of bed with some kind of enthusiasm. Then I usually go on my computer and waste time until I have to get to class, when I rush around brushing teeth, eating, packing up.

38. What was the longest amount of time you have spent waiting on line for something?  What was it, and was it worth the wait?
I don't really like waiting in lines, and I can't remember many incidents where I've done so. I suppose waiting for the 7th Harry Potter book with brother (so worth it) and waiting for a music concert with friends (also pretty worth it).

39. Name one thing you have always been good at doing.
Reading. 

40. What is your favourite season, and why?
Monsoon - it was a big deal in the city I grew up in, the whole city would pause as the first rush of fresh rain would come in. It would seem to wash the city of all the dirt and grime, leaving behind only happy people (and sometimes floods).

41. What was the title of the last book you read?
The Fault in Our Stars by John Greene. Young adult certainly, but also with unexpectedly poignant moments and sentences that drew memories from me.

42. List your biggest regrets.
Nothing really. I just realized this! No big regrets, apart from maybe not doing as well on an interview as I would have liked or not working hard enough for classes. This isn't a big regret or an isolated incident though, just a mild general regret.

43. Have you ever seen a ghost?
No.

44. Describe your note-taking style and habits.
I actually don't like taking my notes on a computer, even though it would be a lot more convenient. Once I'm on my computer, I'm sucked into a vortex of unproductivity, and lose focus on class. Also, my computer battery doesn't work too well and my charger isn't too long, so it makes very little sense to take it to class anyway. I have notebooks for each class (or multi-subject notebooks depending on my schedule), and I take copious notes but try to not just write down everything on the slide. I also have this weird urge to conserve space, which leaves me with awkward spaces at the ends of my notebooks each term where there is too little space to reuse them but too much to just throw away.

45. Do you believe that we are all here for a reason?  What might the reason be?
I don't know if we are all here for a reason, but I don't think it matters too much if we aren't. What matters is that we are here, and that we should live to our fullest capacities, while trying to continue to exist (despite ageing population, global warming, and other ways we destroy ourselves and the planet).

46. What comes to mind when someone uses the phrase prolonging the magic?
Trying too hard to make something last beyond what it's meant to. That's a little depressing, but it is what I thought of.

47. Have you ever done something just to feel the danger, or to feel alive?
I'm just not that type of person. I do things because they seem like fun and not too risky, but I've never done something just to remind myself that I'm alive. Little moments where I stop to observe and appreciate the world around me (usually while walking somewhere alone) are far more effective in this respect than anything else. I have always wanted to skydive though.

48. What is your favourite cliché?
I can't think of one. I like tropes - like musical dissonance (peaceful music while chaos rages), or bromances, but those aren't quite the same. I think I don't like them very much because I recognize the complexities of life and the lack of applicability of clichés to many situations. I think time as a great healer, though, is probably one of the more accurate ones I've found.

49. What are all your thoughts on God?
I might have answered this before - I have none in particular. I enjoy all the stories of different religions, yet I think of them more as stories. I grew up with an attitude that the gods were kind of like friendly relatives, and I think that might have continued. I enjoy celebrating many festivals, and have no issue with praying to satisfy the people I love (parents etc.). I feel a sense of falseness when doing so though. Still, I don't really have any objection to those that believe, since there could very well be something out there. I do think of them a little bit as not having explored their facts enough.

50. How do rainy days make you feel?
The first rains always bring a sense of magic and happiness. In places without a monsoon season, the rain represents more of an inconvenience, but I enjoy stepping out in it when properly clad (in jacket, boots, umbrella). The rain outside my window on a dark night or even a gloomy afternoon while I'm staying in is one of the most wonderful feelings, reinforcing my hermit tendencies by reminding me how happy I am to be safe and warm and indoors.

Postscript/ Perfection or Messiness?

Despite the tone of the last post, things weren't too bad. There was certainly a rough phase, but the longer period was struggling with letting go of what had happened.

There was a big part of me that just didn't want to let go. Things had gone so well, how could I just let something like that go? It's like eating a bite of really good cake, and then just being like well, now I'm done, time to throw it away.

And I've never been one of those people who seriously feels like they need a boy in my life. Sure, sometimes I would wonder if I'd been missing out and what I was missing out on. Once in a while I would think wistfully about it after watching some sappy movie. But it wouldn't be like this. It wouldn't be knowing how fantastic it could be to spend time with someone you care about who cares about you and how you can literally be happy just going anywhere and just being there with them. It wouldn't be thinking about a moment and how much more fantastic it might be if he was there.

It's not like I think life is incomplete without a romance, but it's just a pretty rich layer it adds to your life, and it can seem a little colourless without it, even if it isn't really.

I was worried that my standards were too high after the perfection of this encounter. How could anything possibly match up? Wouldn't I be comparing every future boy to him and every future encounter to ours? I think lots of girls would be lucky to have him. Not only is he physically attractive, he doesn't even know it (making him nice), he is quiet and thoughtful, reads voraciously, enjoys cooking, believes honestly in things, is a little bit of a genuine hipster (more than a little), and is even funny in an understated way. He knows me so well, puts up with all my little (and big) craziness, and it just seemed like an effort to build this up with someone else.

One friend said something that helped me in this regard. If I thought about the last guy I'd liked, it wasn't even a similar situation and they weren't similar in many ways at all. The next guy I fell for would probably approach my heart in a different way, but that didn't mean it wouldn't be as special.

It's been a slow progression, but I think I'm actually over him at this point. The fact that it's been about three months has definitely helped. Not seeing him in person and only Skyping once is also a factor. We still talk almost every day (with a few exceptions depending on when I decided to stop talking for a while, which would end up being 4-5 days at most), but it just feels different to me.

Definitely something that's hard to explain to concerned friends who think I might still be dwelling but I just realize in my feelings and actions that I'm acting in a different way towards him. He's still special to me and holds what can best be described as a soft spot in my heart. But it's certainly not the same as it was, which I realize when I look back at the way I felt with a sense of surprise that it's so different from the way I feel now - something I don't actually realize.

Honestly, I'm a little surprised I'm here. But it's not a bad place to be. Might actually get the chance to see him soon, not sure how that's going to mess with this. Not thinking about it right now, there's no need.

There's a little bit of hurt about the fact that it meant more to me than it did to him, but I'm not really letting it concern me. I don't like feeling like one among many flings, but that's just life sometimes and it was special when I was there.

Life is a little more stable now and a little less exciting, and I'm doing good.

Messiness

Note: lots of the post below was written during the worst stages of missing him - the weeks immediately after, as well as the periods in between where it would get a lot worse. I decided to leave it unedited because these are emotions and worth remembering. Editorial notes in italics.

I miss him I miss him I miss him. It comes and goes but whenever it does come it hurts. I was drinking tonight and I just thought that I wished I could talk to him and although I didn't drunk text/ email him it was genuinely a struggle to do so. It's just that there's a part of me that doesn't want to let go because it was so perfect and that part is continually struggling against the more sane part of me that knows I have to let go because it didn't work out and life sometimes just sucks.

I know, rationally, that I should move on and that it's done and I need to continue on with my life and let it go. The hardest part is actually being able to feel that and then let go. There's always a part of me that says 'well maybe at some point in the future' or 'this can't really be the end', but that's the part that I'm going to have to overcome so that I can actually take steps towards moving on. Knowing the logic of something and actually feeling it are unfortunately quite far apart.

It just makes me feels so irrational. I have flashes where I think that obviously I'm overdoing this whole missing him thing and blowing it up into more than it should be - it was a wonderful memory but my feelings over the summer were certainly not as steadfast as I'm probably making them out to be. Of course, there's flashes of missing him and reminiscing/ wishing he was here. There's also the moments when I feel just confused and sad about things and not sure why, and (naturally) me being angry at myself for feeling so irrational about the entire matter.

Moments when I think we could never be friends after this, moments when I want us to be together next year, moments when I see us being casual friends who have moved on.  Times when I'm so sure he cares too, and others when I just know that it's been all me building this up and he enjoyed it but certainly isn't reading as much into it.

I did discover - through things he said directly and indirectly - that he had hooked up with another girl in the spring. It made me feel part of just a line of flings that didn't mean very much. This is not a fun feeling at all. I did know that he thought of it as a fling, and so did I in that I wanted it to be short-term, but I guess I was ascribing more meaning to it because of the amount I cared/ care about him. However, I still know that he did care about me in the moment. The memories are still special. And maybe I don't want to examine that too much further. 

At first, I didn't know why him telling me this bothered me so much, and I had a bit of a freakout. The thoughts below refer to me trying to figure this out.

My midterm went terribly and my friends are not free to drink with me and I'm trying but I can't help thinking about this.

I've figured out why it bothers me. Part of it is just that him not telling me made me think I didn't mean enough to him as a friend, and that bothered me because I thought we were good friends. Which ties into the whole thing of him never really talking about his feelings and me always feeling like it's me putting myself out there and saying/ doing stuff because he just doesn't feel about me at least as strongly as I do for him.

Part of it is also because I couldn't initially figure out why it bothered me, and was worried that I wasn't over him even a little. A chunk of it is that I know I have no right to ask these kinds of questions or even be slightly bothered about it and that we will both move on and that has to happen and that it is sad because it seems to be giving up.

This is at least pushing the realization that I need to barrel through the last stage of moving on. What we had was not a relationship, and I can't treat it like one. I'm clinging on to the certainty that I don't want a long-distance relationship (which I both feel and know), and creating a quasi-dependency by talking to him every day isn't going to help matters. While I can't completely cut off contact (with the somewhat weakened idea that I want to keep him as a friend), I can definitely reduce and distract.

And I think this has definitely helped me put him in the 'past' column. Of course, if this were a story, this would be the turning point where I realize all the good things about my life and come to the bittersweet feeling of something important ending and something new beginning. However, much as I try to fit my life into a story, it is not that (which sometimes bothers me). So I'm sure there will be back-and-forths and ups-and-downs and I'll just have to deal with them as they come.

Turns out I don't have to drop the class, but I do have to work hard for the final.

Questions I still have:
- How many friends does he hook up with? Does he regularly hook up with friends?
- Did he have any feelings for her?
- Why did they stop hooking up?
- Why can't he just talk about his feelings more so I don't have to ask him and then feel pushy and needy? Even in telling stories.

There you have it. A stage with many fluctuations, many moments of thinking about him, many times of reading into things he said a little too much, and a stage I don't miss at all.

Vignettes from France

- I felt slightly concerned that I was the one usually wrapped around him instead of vice versa as it had been when I visited over the summer, but it didn't matter enough for me to do anything about it. I was half-afraid if I turned away he would take it as an indication I wanted to stop cuddling instead of that I wanted to spoon.

- On a slightly related note, my cuddling tendencies while asleep meant I kept moving closer towards him, and nearly pushing him off the bed. Sometimes I would just climb over him and switch sides if this was a problem. I told him to feel free to roll/ push me in my sleep, but he was vaguely uncomfortable with this. I was very slightly bothered by the idea that he might not want to cuddle, thus was moving away.

- Before trip, was very very worried about arrival of period, prayed it would come before, hated body when seemed it would come during (would have put damper on most of things). Was incredibly thankful when it didn't, though kept thinking it was.

- At some point during the endless channel surfing, there was one channel that said it only started broadcasting after 10:30 pm. Somehow we missed this channel every day (having already started on other activities by then), and I was determined to find out what it was. I had a nagging suspicion of what it might be (having had experience with European television), but we discovered that it was definitely porn. He didn't quite believe me the first time we flipped past it, but was convinced after going back briefly. There was a mildly awkward silence after this, since we were lying with me wrapped around him (as usual), but it was broken pretty soon with some sort of immature giggle on my part.

- A 'that's what she said' joke was definitely made by him at some point, he clearly knows the way to my heart without even trying.

- I told my friends we high-fived upon his successful completion, but I don't actually remember any more if this is true.

- He does this wonderful thing when I'm half-asleep or he thinks I'm asleep where he gently caresses or pats or strokes my face in a way that brings warmth to my stomach. I can't actually remember what this feels like (or even if it's entirely true) but I told all my friends about it so it probably was.

- He said my tolerance to alcohol was good for 'someone my size', which I wasn't quite sure I appreciated. A part of me enjoyed being called small indirectly, and a part didn't want to be thought of as weak. My eternal internal battle between feminism and norms/ thoughts/ upbringing. His tolerance is remarkably high.

- Nearly every thought I shared on this blog was something I ended up blurting out to him, a policy of complete honesty that worked out surprisingly well and continues mostly to this day.

- At some/ multiple points I told him that I pitied him a little for his taste in women, I believe he just (wisely) laughed.

- One time he was napping and I was awake (not uncommon), and his arm was wrapped around me and we were facing each other, and my eyes were open and I was casually studying his face, trying to memorize little details. His eyes opened and caught me staring at him, something he made fun of me about for the rest of the weekend (mostly flippantly), and I wasn't able to provide any coherent explanation.

- I mentioned that his long lasting was going to be helpful to him in the future (though further discussions with friends have taught me that sex is a whole 'nother ball game).

- My stomach had been vaguely cramping the whole time (probably due to the all-pasta diet of the previous week), and his concern and willingness to do anything to help was touching.

- I discovered what I had suspected for a while, I enjoyed greatly whenever he took more control and moved me around in bed. In terms of lifting or leading or just generally taking charge, that was what I liked most. I struggled a little with this internally - it didn't seem very women's lib to me - before deciding that feminism was about being comfortable with what you like and want. I then communicated this to him at some point on the last day (in less coherent words) and despite his slight surprise, he took it into consideration somewhat.

- The appeal of sleeping in boys' shirts is completely understandable to me now. My dad's shirts never fit me right and I didn't think I looked particularly cute even though I enjoyed the comfort. But this: the smell, the fit, the feeling - everything appeals to me and I even looked pretty nice, according to me.

- We saw a pet store at some point and I nearly died at the cuteness of the tiny puppies playing and sleeping in the window, while being aware of the somewhat clichéd nature of this moment - puppy love in its purest form. I had to drag myself away before I felt as though I was going to explode.

- A discussion we had: "Do you prefer boobs or ass?" (my suspicion was ass since he had shown it more attention). "Boobs." Not even a pause to think. "Really? I don't get why guys are so into them, they're just balls of fat." Have you ever heard a more accurate description? "So is the ass." Of course my response about the ass being functional came to me only far later. I did confess at some point that my ass was probably more sensitive, surprising him in turn.

- He had a Swiss army knife with his name on it that his family had given him, and we used it to open wine. He left it in the room the day he was late in the morning, and I played with it despite being afraid I would cut myself. I didn't, and even cleaned it for him.

- The hotel bathroom was separate from the sink/ shower area, and was behind a closed door but located right opposite the bed in a way that meant the sound of peeing was clearly audible. Once I had heard this I could no longer ignore it and as a guy he could control the trajectory and use the bathroom in an incredibly silent manner, but I had to make him leave the room/ put on my fancy new headphones from the summer in order to be able to pee.

- Didn't actually take any makeup with me on the trip, but took perfume. Priorities?

- I had been worried before the trip that my pajamas might not be cute enough, but this ended up being not a concern at all. When I did wear pajamas, it was usually his shirt with my underwear or shorts - hereto undiscovered levels of comfort.

- Two months before the trip we hadn't even kissed and I didn't even think he liked me even a little.

- I accidentally left my stuffed dog in the hotel room. It was one my parents had given me (some years before) and that I decided to bring on a strange impulse but left on the desk the entire trip facing away from the bed. I thought I glanced over the hotel room before I left but I suppose sadness counts for something. Frantic texts and emails were sent his way, and he retrieved it. Now it is with him, and I'm not entirely unhappy for him to have a continual reminder of my presence.

Perfection

So, after a lot of thinking, I visited him.

On the way over, I missed a connecting flight and lost four hours that I could have otherwise spent with him. I still remember the bitter shock of seeing the closed gate, and the rush of tears as I felt that luck was never on my side. I tried to not hold on to it, merely trying to get my flight rescheduled but pushing tears back so they only glimmered on my eyes, and merely read Crime and Punishment with a façade of calmness at the airport.

Fell asleep briefly waiting for the plane, woke up in a panic that my bag was gone (it was not, I was sleeping on it) and found that the old man who had been sitting next to me had been replaced by a cute guy. Finally boarded the plane and sat next to a very very attractive man whose face I don't even remember, who spoke to me in French to ask me a question. Unfortunately my comprehension was slow and I looked like an imbecile as I slowly processed the question, then blurted out a half-coherent answer about what row we were in. There was no further conversation.

Landed, asked him to meet me at the airport (felt a little selfish) but he missed the bus there. I didn't mind, it was easy for me to find it. Took the bus into the city, thrumming with excitement but listening to headphones and not quite feeling there. On the bus, I strained to catch a view of the city, picturing various situations on how I would meet and greet him.

I walked through a crowded train station dragging a suitcase (with headphones on, which was unusual for me) before he stuck his hand out in front of me and was suddenly there. A second passed while I realized it was him, and then I flung my arms around his neck and launched myself into his arms. He gave a very genuine and wide smile, while I ran my fingers through his hair and remarked on how it had grown (I remember his embarrassed smile at this).

We began walking over to the hotel - he has a good sense of direction and had looked it up and I trusted him - while I scrambled to put the headphones away and hold the suitcase and backpack while talking about a mile a minute. I felt strangely calm but with a distant sense of wild nervous energy, and slightly removed from myself. But I was happy. We continued walking, with me periodically handing over the suitcase while trying to decide whether to hand over my mother's gift of macarons then or later.

While walking through a park on the way over (the walk was about five or seven minutes), I was inordinately excited by the goats in the petting corner. Despite walking past them numerous times later on the trip, somehow I didn't end up actually going up to them and/ or getting the picture of them I wanted for my mother.

I can't remember what we talked about (just the usual conversation between two people who haven't seen each other in a while, with some excited little stories about the last few days by me), I just remember being very aware that I was near him, while turning over variables in my mind like how close we were standing, whether I was letting him hold the suitcase or not.

Felt a little self-conscious about checking in at the hotel, wondered what the clerk thought of us. We were shown to my room (I almost wrote our, but I did end up paying an occupancy tax for him so who knows) by the clerk who he wanted to speak in French with but whom I addressed in English so he would understand me. I remember knowing (without him saying anything) that he wanted to speak in French and thinking about whether I would understand anything if we did.

Gave him the macarons (from mom) and chocolate (from dad) and books to borrow (from me) while dropping off stuff in the room, and heading out immediately. I think I got to town around 7 p.m. (originally was supposed to land at 2 and be there around 3) so we were quite hungry by this point.

We walked around the city for at least an hour or two - he showed me the centre-ville and we went through little streets and all around town and saw a lot of things from the outside. He navigated entirely, and we just continued talking the whole time. I can't really describe the conversation - it ranged from friends to family to selves to stories about our time apart - a normal friend conversation.

At the back of my mind was always the thought about whether I should grab his arm or hand or not. I remember making a half-joking remark about how he kept switching directions and I never knew which way he wanted to walk. I thought that might be the perfect moment to grab his arm at least but some fear held me back. It seems a little silly to me now (wasted time) but I probably would do it again.

It took a while to decide where we wanted to eat since I was reluctant to not appear picky and make a decision for him and pick too expensive a place, but didn't just want a cheese sandwich (one of the only vegetarian options in most street places). Eventually, we picked a crêpe place and ended up getting the same galettes (with tomato paste, mushrooms, and onions). My devouring of the meal was a lot more messy than his, but I wanted to mix together all my ingredients. We got cider with the meal and it was about as delicious as it sounds - very. I wasn't hungry as we ordered, but became hungry when the meal came around.

Again, I can't quite remember what we talked about. I remember him telling me something about him crying when his brother sang at his (brother's high school) graduation that just melted my heart because of his shy smile as he said it. There was a silhouette/ etching of a model's face on the sign for a hairdresser that I could see from where I was sitting at dinner, and I spaced out while staring at it and thinking about whether we would hook up or not. He asked what I was thinking and I blushed (as much as I can) and made up some story about the guy I was sitting next to on the plane and how I fell asleep on his shoulder (I did not do this). I think I never actually told him the truth about this, making it one of the little things I thought of that I didn't end up blurting out eventually.

On the way home, we resolved to buy wine and he directed me to a little Turkish store where we did so. I believe he insisted on paying but I covered it the next night so I wasn't too worried (and finally heeding advice to let other people do things for me). I was holding his arm at this point. We passed by a Middle Eastern bar where men were sitting at tables on the street, and one of them called me 'fraîche' as we walked by. I burst out laughing a second or two later because I thought he meant frère and was referring to F as my brother in some joking manner.

However, F clarified that he had meant fresh/ sexy, and seemed mildly bothered by how the man had been not very respectful and somewhat protective (using the 'tu' form instead of the 'vous' form). A few steps later, I decided I would grab his hand, and a few steps later decided to make sure that it was okay. In my usual rushed outburst of words when concerning such matters, I asked whether he was fine with this, and reinforced that it was fine if we didn't and that wasn't the reason I had come. He cut me off (thankfully) to explain that it was fine, but I obviously didn't know how to be normal and continued by comparing myself to a creepy old man (I think I said that I always felt creepy around him because I made so many moves and he should just let me know if he wasn't fine with it). He was fine with it.

On the rest of the way home, I remember a discussion about why I cried at the party on the last night of our last trip together (where we met) - it was really because I had had a lot to drink and people were being incredibly nice and I lost my wallet and felt stupid (I got it back but lost 35). But I told him it was because some guy I didn't know creeped on me on the way back from the bathroom and got in my personal space and tried to kiss me. [I think I have a problem. In real life, it was a (somewhat) nice guy who merely told me that his friend thought I was really awesome] In return, he told me a story about being a club with his friends in the city he was in, and how this guy was creeping on his friends, and then smacked his butt as he was leaving, and how he almost got in a fight but decided not to.

Back in the room, we sat on the bed and watched TV. A dubbed version of Black Swan was on, and we caught the last twenty minutes. I sat pretty close and snuggled into his back/ side during tense moments while we continued to drink wine and swap stories. I was somewhat worried about red wine on white sheets, especially given me, and sure enough he moved his elbow at some point and most of the paper cup ended up on the sheets. I called for new sheets and he remade the bed (not entirely, but moved stuff around sufficiently) as I stood around in a moderately drunk haze. I left a tip the next day for housekeeping and a note apologizing.

Some of these memories are vague because I had consumed a good amount of wine and beer through the course of the night. However at no point was I nauseous/ unclear about decisions I was making, I was merely a little less inhibited, which is always good. At some point I changed into my night shorts and t-shirt and brushed my teeth, but continued to drink.

He started playing music from his computer (a Wes Anderson playlist that I greatly enjoyed), which continued to play as everything else happened till around 2 a.m. when his computer was nearly completely drained of battery.

(Non-existent readers, if you happen to be young, you might want to avert eyes at this point).

At some other point, we began kissing (which is one first move he usually makes). I was on top as we were making out, and frustrated at his hands never actually reached where I wanted them to go (aka my chest). I appreciated him being a gentleman, but I am apparently no lady, because I paused to exclaim "Oh my God, can you please continue" and whipped off my shirt and flung my bra across the room.

(Here we paused to chuckle briefly, while I sat on his lap facing him and reflected that now his clothes needed to come off to make it even. His response was that there was really no equivalent - brief gender discussion - to my shirt being off, but he obligingly enough took off his shirt and pants and we continued).

I did share at some point that he was my first actual kiss, which he was visibly surprised by. I suppose my evident enthusiasm and willingness to move further seemed uncharacteristic, but it just felt right.

My memories of the night are of a darkened room, tangled limbs, switching between being on top and bottom, and feeling really good. We didn't have sex (not even close), but his mouth was all over my upper body in ways that made me curl my fingers in his hair and make sounds I didn't have any idea I could make (despite half-trying to stop myself) and still catch my breath a little when I think of it. I remember being mildly concerned that I wasn't being fair to him, but he seemed intent on pleasuring me even when I communicated that concern. I do remember slipping my hand in his underwear and holding him, but he distracted me from that soon. He was a little rough with his mouth at times, but I didn't mind. Especially since I had decided I wanted a hickey and indicated thusly to him (while claiming I didn't bruise easily, which I knew to be patently false), and enjoyed the feeling of him giving it to me.

Slightly less fun was discovering the two dark semi-connected bruises the next day and having to try and use my hair to hide it the whole weekend with mild embarrassment and some pride. He felt worse about it than I did, but fortunately my parents didn't notice - or say anything - when I was home. I fell asleep without a shirt on, cuddled up next to him (I remember being mildly concerned about this but he questioned why and I decided passing out was more important).

During the night, I did wake up and put on his shirt, which was soft and smelled like him. When he woke up the next day and got ready for his first day of class, he gathered my shirt from wherever it had landed and brought it to me (and chuckled slightly when he found my bra in a corner and put it on the hanger for me). I switched shirts and he sat down on the bed to put on his shoes then kissed me goodbye in a forceful way that left me wanting more.

Couldn't fall back asleep after he left, wandered around vaguely brushing my teeth and worrying about my period coming (a major concern through the trip that fortunately didn't materialize until safely after) and getting ready and eating the food my mother had packed and watching TV and texting friends. He was supposed to be back around 11:45 a.m. after class ended at 11 and I waited half-asleep and unable to concentrate and grew impatient around 12:45 p.m. and sent him a mildly irritated one-line email just as he knocked.

He smiled as he entered and knew immediately that I had been sleeping. The delay was because he had been home showering and eating. He had also brought me water as requested, which helped with the dehydration from drinking. He got into bed and began watching TV as I immediately cuddled up, but decided to leave so we could see the city. He was somewhat remorseful as I pointed out the hickey(s), but I reassured him that I didn't mind. It did seem to weigh on his mind a little for the rest of the time, which I can't say I didn't enjoy. To me it felt like a badge of honour - something that made me feel happy but slightly awkward that others could see it.

This time we saw the city cathedral (outside which we ran into someone from his programme who he waved to somewhat awkwardly), fountain, mayor's house, main square, side streets, observation deck (though we couldn't go up because it was closed), and other sights. Around 2 or 3 p.m. we were tired and hungry, but it being a Monday and that time we were unable to find inexpensive restaurants that were open so we decided to just visit the main castle instead first. It was a cold and windy day and I was slightly chilly and worried about my skirt flying up.

We wandered around the walls of the castle and he tripped on his way up a stair and fell and got up and fell again and then sat on the steps nursing his knee looking sad since only his pride hurt. I remember wanting to kiss him then but for some foolish reason I didn't and settled for ruffling his hair gently instead. I also spent an inordinate amount of time leaning out of a window that gave me a great view of people in the square below and letting the wind whip through my hair. When I looked back in he was gone and wasn't behind me but quite a ways ahead so I smacked him somewhat moderately when I caught up to indicate my half-worry and sadness that he left me, but apparently he thought I was ahead.

By the time we were done, I was hungry and somewhat drained but somehow restrained from taking this out on him and being grumpy - which my family and friends still refuse to believe. There were certainly periods of silence, but they were more comfortable. By now I was willing to accept even a cheese sandwich for lunch and leaned on his arm more than usual as we finally located a place near the hotel. I felt much more myself after I devoured the fries that came with the meal, and we soon returned to the hotel for a well-deserved rest around 3:45 p.m.

Periodically through the afternoon I wondered whether I should hold his hand or not (somewhat regretted not doing it when his friend from study abroad saw us) but never quite did. I think I held his arm a few times during the later phases of the afternoon. I also tried to adjust my hair to hide my neck, but the wind in the city was against me on that quest. Wandered near Sephora for a while but ended up deciding not to buy concealer.

Alternated between napping and watching TV all evening. I was only able to sleep around him for about half an hour at a time during the trip - I guess I was excited given the limited time we had. I grew slightly impatient with this at times, feeling as though we should be doing more talking and sharing and enjoying each other's company.

So I would try and wake him, he would proclaim he was awake or suggest we sleep longer and promptly fall back asleep anyway. Waking him up has always been a difficult process. Since I vacillated between not wanting to be pushy and being fine with just relaxing and feeling like we were wasting time and that I was bored, I had mixed actions. I would alternate between trying to wake him and giving him a break, not making any concentrated effort but hoping he would wake. Therefore, he would only partly wake, and I would let him fall back asleep, and want to wake him again.

Eventually that evening, I grew somewhat tired of this - I felt like he didn't want to talk to me, and I wanted to leave for dinner, and I got a weird mix of melancholy where I realized I'd be gone soon and saw that I could indeed be irritated by him sometimes (it felt like the end of the idyll thus far), and I just turned away and stared at the ceiling. Though I did position myself where he could see me and know that I had my eyes open. I might have sighed a couple of times as well...

He did notice (which I very much appreciated), and asked what was wrong. I thought about it, and didn't see any point in telling him. It wasn't anything that I could express in simple words, and telling him I was sad about leaving would put a damper on the trip that was pointless - I had to leave, I might as well be glum only after I did.

So I said, "nothing." He asked again a little while later, probably noting that nothing about my posture or attitude had changed. I responded in the same manner, but realized a couple of seconds later that I was being silly and needed to let it go.

So I turned to face him in bed, moved closer, and pressed my face towards his neck. I didn't say anything, but he got the hint and put his arm over me and pulled me close and kissed my face gently and kissed me. It was different from the way we had kissed the previous night, which had been a lot more passionate and frantic, this was far more tender (an awkward but accurate word) and I basically melted into him. He didn't ask again what was wrong, which I appreciated. He asked if I wanted to leave, but I asked for ten more minutes, and he eventually had to get up to make me inclined to move.

We walked lazily towards dinner, eventually deciding on a Middle Eastern place where I got a falafel sandwich - again, he got the same - and felt filled for almost the first time since I'd been there. Our legs tangled a little as we ate at a little table outside the shop, and after we were done, we picked up some wine on our way home once again.

Back on the bed, we sat next to each other and just talked while sipping wine from paper cups. We went through the two bottles we had at a quick-slow pace because I wanted him to drink twice as much as I did so he would be as drunk as I was, and I went through the first cup quickly but nursed the second for a while.

While recounting some high school story, he was demonstrating something him and his friends did that he called a 'Poy', which was basically the way a guy from his high school greeted people, involving a hooked finger. When I asked what that meant, he decided to demonstrate by flicking my chest with his hooked finger, making me jump and spill wine on the sheets again. Fortunately this time it was less, although there was a little on my shirt. I resolved this situation by simply taking off my shirt, well aware that I was wearing my most attractive bra. Upon playfully drawing his attention to this, he blushed slightly and said he was trying very hard not to stare.

As we were doing this, he showed me a video on Youtube (I actually can't even remember which one), tried to show me Wrecking Ball (but I refused), and then went on Facebook. At some point soon after, I took the computer from him in order to try and stalk his family on Facebook since they were all friends and in each other's profile pictures and obviously very close, promising him any favour he wanted in return. Now naturally I had tried to do this on my own, but his account gave me unprecedented access, and I took full advantage and managed to find some younger pictures of him that he was duly embarrassed by.

He tried to take the computer from me at some point, but I somehow prevented him (and enjoyed tussling with him over it). However, at some point he decided it was time to take the computer away and took it from me. I felt a surprising rush as he overpowered me because I enjoyed it, since I felt safe and enjoyed his use of strength.

After the computer was gone, I decided I wanted more wine. I think we were done with the current bottles but not particularly buzzed and didn't have anything much to do and caught onto a whim. He asked semi-seriously if I really wanted more, and on my affirmative response said he would just run and fetch it since the store was five minutes away and then I could just 'stay and be warm'. Though I appreciated the sentiment, I wanted to go with him and insisted on doing so.

Since we were both somewhat tipsy, we continued this semi-argument about why I should go - he said he could just run ahead and get it, and I agreed while sarcastically suggesting that I would just walk past the creepy Middle Eastern bar by myself late at night in my tiny shorts, thus he reluctantly continued to walk with me.

On the way back, we continued to bicker about me walking with him until I finally admitted that it was because I would rather spend time with him than sit alone in the room, which he thought was 'really cute' and caused me to deny it in an embarrassed manner as he pulled me in for a kiss as we stood close with his arms around my waist and mine around his neck.

Another semi-argument continued about the favour I had promised him, as he said he couldn't think of anything to ask for. I was shocked by this (and a teensy bit offended that he didn't want anything from me), to which he retorted that most guys would ask for a blow job or sex, but he didn't need that. I understand why he didn't ask for that as it would constitute pressuring me into making steps I might not want to. I could think of at least a dozen non-sexual things I would want, and said as much. Obviously he asked, but I said I had not earned it and couldn't tell him.

I did, however, ask him to kiss me in the street (something I always wanted to try that I thought would be more acceptable in France, I remember me saying something along the lines of 'kiss me' and him going 'really?' but obliging anyway). On the way back from the store, wine bottles in hand, we stopped again and I stretched up on my toes and pulled him down for a kiss. This time we got more into it, and I remember wriggling in slight recollection that we were on the street as his hands slipped inside the back of my shirt and down towards my butt.

Before he got there, he seemed to catch a hold of himself and pulled away, pulling me down the street towards the hotel. I remember giggling at his embarrassment and calling him an 'American' for his reluctance to kiss on the street. Outside the hotel, we discovered the gate for the complex had closed and had to call the reception to get in (though there was a place I could have put in my key card, but just didn't know about, and felt embarrassed when I found out).

I cannot actually recall what we did when back in the room, though I know more wine was opened up. I woke up with a start at 5 am realizing I had absolutely no recollection of how or when I fell asleep, though I was wrapped around him once again and both our shirts were off. I vaguely remember taking off mine once we were back in the room, and I wasn't concerned or anything, I was just very disappointed that I (we?) had wasted such a promising evening by passing out. And I very much hoped I hadn't fallen asleep in the middle of anything.

Did consider waking him up, and might have whispered his name a couple of times. He either didn't stir or wisely chose not to respond. After shuffling around a bit and checking my phone, decided the urge to fall back asleep was overpowering and cuddled back up and didn't wake up until the next alarm (his, for class).

He snoozed it and pulled me closer, as per tradition, and we might have exchanged a brief conversation about how we fell asleep (he didn't remember either and I established that we did not fall asleep during anything). I remained wakeful, enjoying the moment.

A short time later, he checked his phone, let out a muffled exclamation and jumped out of bed in a rush to get ready (yet still took the customary two minutes to adjust his hair in the mirror). As he wandered around the room shirtless, I took a moment to appreciate his upper body - which was broad, muscled enough (but not overly defined), and his slight tan shone golden in the sunlight peering in through the gap in the curtain. Then I promptly felt like a huge creep. Pretended to be somewhat asleep, with the sheet somewhat artfully arranged to leave my upper body visible.

With a quick explanation that his class was supposed to start at 8:30 (it was 8:30 when he woke), he soon left. I resumed my customary routine of lazy rising, got a tray of breakfast items to take upstairs from the buffet downstairs (some pretty delicious plain pancakes, green tea, toast, butter, cheese, strawberries, water), continued casually munching on things as I got ready, watching TV in the background and texting friends.

All that was left for me to do was shower when I heard a knock on the door around 11 am. I opened it thinking it was housekeeping (like the previous day), but he stood there almost sheepishly, apparently having decided not to stop by his host family's place to change etc. Since it was the first week of class, he was able to get away with reaching there at 9 am and pretending that was when he thought class started.

Taking a shower was slightly awkward because the bathroom was an open layout, and apart from the very second you got out of the shower, you were visible from the bed. However, he was passed out (after eating the rest of the bread, butter and cheese on my plate), and modesty was less of a concern at this point. I still remained relatively hidden, and changed back into pajamas after the shower and went right back to cuddling in bed.

At some point soonish after, I decided that we had slept enough and it was time to go out and eat. Towards this end, I directed my efforts at waking him up in the same half-assed manner that I had done the previous day. I would want to give him more time to sleep and then just get impatient and try waking him up again, and waking him up this ended up lasting about an hour and a half.

Around 1:30 pm, he finally let out a half-exasperated exclamation about how I was "like a puppy that needed to be let out", laughing as he realized I wasn't going to give up on leaving. I smirked in satisfaction, and we finally headed out. Despite the misty rain outside, which he pointed out in the hope that it might convince me to stay in.

I believe we got crepes - he got a sweet one with lemon cream and I got a savoury one with eggs and potatoes and cheese (got very excited when I discovered the egg, especially the yolk). There was green salad with a little too much dressing with the meal, but it was good anyway. Ate with my legs slightly tangled with his underneath the tiny table. Noticed some sort of documentary-style filming going on at a table nearby and craned to look, but couldn't really make it out until the way out.

Is what we talked about important? It was definitely an enjoyable conversation (as ever), but nothing out of the ordinary. As we left, I might have made some kind of joke about walking around the town, since I knew he wanted nothing more than to return and sleep once again.

So we were back at the hotel around 3 p.m., at which point even I was ready to take a nice nap. As I did, while he watched football on TV. When I woke about half an hour later, he was still watching, but now my urge to nap had passed. I had drooled a little on his shirt though, which I jokingly apologized for. We continued the half-asleep TV watching while alternating cuddling positions, though I don't think I fell back asleep.

A while later, I decided to resume trying to wake him up, because I once again felt we weren't spending time talking to each other, and were thus wasting time. So for the first time, I tried to wake him just to talk instead of just for food. He agreed in principle to talking, but kept falling back asleep since his urge for sleep overwhelmed anything he might have had to say. I wasn't bothered by this phenomenon, just mildly concerned we might be wasting time.

Around 4 p.m., I nuzzled against his half-awake face but couldn't think of anything to say, so we ended up making out instead (#classy #butalsoawesome). I might have actually been reaching over him to get the TV remote, but I can't quite remember. Also classy.

While I was on top of him, I noticed - actually observing this for the first time - something firm pressed against my leg that wasn't his leg, but decided to ignore it for the moment. Although my hands weren't really tired a little while later, I claimed they were because I was hoping he would get on top, and rolled off him.

Somewhat to my chagrin, he picked up the remote again and continued to watch the TV (which had been on in the background the whole time). I was mildly offended by this, and smacked him with a pillow in order to indicate this, huffing to the other side of the bed and placing another pillow between us. "Seriously?!" "Well, I can't go back to sleep now." (much celebration on my part for this somewhat late but extremely useful discovery)

This lasted all of a few minutes, during which texting friends convinced me that I might be somewhat unjustified in my righteous indignation. I soon removed the dividing pillow and reluctantly rolled back to snuggle against him once again. Despite some moderate whining on my part about how resting on his chest while watching TV was making my neck hurt, we had a pretty pleasant evening. And this way I got to make lots of jokes about his abandoning me for TV.

After some TV-watching and lying around and just cuddling (something I remember is that he put and left his hand gently on my leg that was lying on him, which somehow made me feel really cared for), we left for the last dinner. I decided I wanted Asian and was less hesitant about communicating this, leading to a relatively quick decision on where to go. It was a little Pan-Asian place - much like every other one ever - with a little girl helping her mother behind the counter, a slightly impatient server (the mother), vaguely ethnic wall decorations, an aquarium, a reddish-purple colour scheme, and mostly non-Asian people.

I believe I got noodles with veggies, which were pretty good once doused in the spicy sauce. I felt somewhat relieved that I was finally getting some more balanced nutrition (the week before I had eaten almost entirely just tomato pasta). He got some form of curry fried rice, and I enjoyed my dish more.

During dinner, he got a text that made his face scrunch up in a weird smile. My mother had texted him (a number I had given her only for emergencies) because I had left my phone in the hotel and hadn't responded to texts as quickly as I usually do. I know my mother and was in a good mood so wasn't too annoyed at her, just mildly embarrassed. He seemed a little weird-ed out but didn't really seem to mind and I dictated a text back.

After dinner, I decided on a sake even though he didn't get one. The taste was a little too sweet for me, but it was the serving cup I remember. Slightly larger than a shot glass with a generic floral vaguely Asian pattern on the outside, I discovered a very explicit picture of a naked Japanese woman at the bottom of the cup. He was very amused by this, as was I. Once I'd taken my shot, the picture was gone. I figured out that it was probably some sort of refraction, and he insisted on using the last bit of his water glass to test this. I was somewhat thirsty/ still needed to wash out the taste of sake, but I let him and later drank the sake-flavoured water upon correctly proving the hypothesis. It was gross.

It was slightly rainy outside as we left, the misty kind of rain against which an umbrella or rain jacket is no use. You think you're only getting slightly damp and find yourself soon soaked. I slipped my hand into his (the frequency of our hand holding had increased through the trip) as his was in his pocket, and he immediately said his pocket was more of his personal space.

"Fine, I won't hold your hand!" I responded, trying to extricate my hand from his, exaggerating jokingly to hide my mildly offended reaction. (Wisely) he held on and we continued walking without any hands in pockets.

On the way home, we stopped for gelato at a place that I'd been eyeing since the previous night. We shared a mango sorbet (as usual, he let me pick the flavour), and I started off holding the cup. A couple of mishaps with my almost dropping the entire cup or flinging small pieces of sorbet around (spoons are hard to use) occurred, leading him to commandeer the cup, deciding I couldn't be trusted. He gave it back soon, not that I minded, but another - somehow Fate loves me - small mishap meant he took it.

As mentioned, I didn't mind. I merely steadied his hand when I was reaching for it, and we took a leisurely walk back in mostly silence. I was shivering a little because of the cold from the ice cream and thinking about how sweet my lips probably tasted (I engineered this somewhat intentionally). I might even have mentioned this, with some vague plan in mind to taste like gelato when he next kissed me. Foolishly enough, I didn't just kiss him and soon grew impatient, licking the ice cream off my lips while commenting on how sweet they tasted.

After stopping by the Turkish store for the last time for more wine + beer, where the owner probably thought we were semi-functional alcoholics, we headed back to the hotel. Once back in the room, we fell into our routine of TV and cuddling and talking and flirting. I took out my phone to show him something and he began playing with it and appreciating it (he doesn't have a smartphone), and I somehow ended up revealing my phone unlock code even without him directly asking. I'm weirdly private about locking my phone and computer, and giving it away somewhat casually to him is a testament of how comfortable I felt.

He ended up going on Spotify through my phone and (without my realizing what he was doing) creating a playlist for me that he titled with my nickname for him. Of course I entirely melted when I found out, but he made me promise not to look at the songs until the next day. They were songs I enjoyed and that will always be special, though I couldn't listen to the playlist for a while after. I added a few as we talked in later weeks and he gave me recommendations. Later I realized how special that gift was, since he mentioned that he only shares music with special people and somewhat reluctantly since it feels as though he is giving away something very personal to him.

Soon we moved to making out and for some reason I thought it was appropriate to stop and go change into my matching underwear (well change my bra to the cuter one I'd been wearing the previous day that happened to match my underwear) before we resumed. I cringe a little when thinking about it, but he agreed quite seriously that he appreciated it.

The topic of the 'blank cheque' I had given him came up again, and I ended up somehow telling him that I had always wanted to try the running and jumping into someone's arms for a hug. So we did in the dark, by the bed, and I jumped up instead of climbing down (which I had thought would be easier). It was pretty darn fun. He dropped me on to the bed slightly roughly after, but upon my protest explained that it was to do with my stated preference for liking his taking control.

I let him take off my bra this time - joking with him that he would have to do it - he was pretty quick. Though I was definitely having fun, I was more insistent this time that I reciprocate and focus on him.

If I haven't already mentioned, the atmosphere was absolutely perfect. There was no real awkwardness (the drunkenness probably eliminated that). I felt entirely comfortable and safe with him and all times and completely respected (honestly I might have preferred a leeeetle less respect and a little more taking control). Still, I was comfortable enough to tell him exactly what I wanted, and it seemed like he grew more that way also. We - mostly me - kept pausing to talk and joke as we normally did, but with the added fun of making out in between. It was relaxed and never felt too serious or awkwardly intense, but it didn't just feel like we were joking around.

Every step along the way felt natural and never forced or for the sake of it. We didn't have sex, but at some point when I was on top of him making out with everything but our underwear off (including bra), I asked in some way if it was okay if we went further. Of course I mentioned it was totally fine if he didn't feel comfortable and we didn't have to, but he said "I'm open to it" and so I kissed my way down his chest and started with a blow job.

Lotion (which we decided to use, fortunately the hotel brand was there since I didn't want to always think of him when I put on my own lotion) was consumed by me in somewhat copious amounts, but I bore it and continued since it was necessary and my mouth didn't seem to have enough saliva. I have a pretty good sex education, but somehow nothing had taught me that blow jobs take quite a while. I switched between using my mouth and hands, but both would get tired and I would worry that I wasn't doing it right. Once I knew about the length of these, I kept noticing allusions to it in popular culture/ the internet, but at the time I was very worried that I was doing something wrong and being inadequate.

Though it was true that I had no idea what I was doing, which probably contributed. I used what I'd learned from written and video porn (somewhat limited and unrealistic) and it seemed to work even though I don't think I was particularly good. I asked for feedback (there's a weird sentence) and he did tell me what worked and didn't as I was doing it - mostly in short burst like "faster" or "just keep doing that" - it fit with the atmosphere and never felt out of place or odd. He also helped with his own hand, while I took a break to kiss him at that point.

I even texted people during a slight pause to ask for advice (though I told everyone but my friend R that it wasn't actually during). I was drunk and this embarrasses me horribly now to think about.

I made a remark at some point about how his being vegetarian was helpful because it made the taste sweeter supposedly, and he laughed and said "Well, that's another thing to tell people when they ask why I'm vegetarian."

My stomach also randomly cramped up (I was drunk but in a strong amount of pain) and we had to stop while I groaned in a way that in the back of my mind I thought sounded vaguely sexual. He was very concerned, held me, and was willing to stop entirely, but I was determined and insisted on continuing once the pain had passed.

Eventually - what was around an hour later I think but didn't feel too long - his hips bucked slightly and his almost utter silence was broken by a gasp or groan or two (this actually happened a couple of times) and he said "more", and I had done it. I expected more of an explosion but it was pretty low-key and I almost didn't realize what was happening. I swallowed most of it since I wanted to try and it felt natural. Can't remember what it tasted like - nothing I've ever had before - but it didn't seem particularly pleasant, probably all the lotion.

Felt a sense of victory after, would have felt terrible if I hadn't managed it. Moved up to kiss him and then hesitated and asked if it was okay, saying I could go get water. He took a second to process and then psht-ed somewhat and pulled me down firmly for a kiss.

Immediately after, he went to the sink, got me water, and cleaned up, all while I sat up straight in bed in the dark staring at nothing and trying not to think about the taste of lotion and other things maybe hair in my mouth and consuming copious amounts of water. Once he came back to bed, he seemed very struck by sleepiness and passed out almost immediately (a stereotype that is entirely true and I expected). He was cuddling up to me this time though, and I felt warm and safe and successful and happy, though a little sad that the time was done. I wasn't too sure if I wanted to go further (mostly worried about hair in unwanted places), but a tiny part of me regretted not exploring it. We both fell asleep almost entirely naked (my underwear was still on but my little sleep shorts had come off for the first time) although he was on the opposite side of the bed to where he usually was.

I felt as though I got to see an incredibly intimate side of him. I guess that's the point of sexual encounters, but I know this is something no one else has seen, and I have that.

Again, I put on his (grey, V-necked, short-sleeved) shirt at some point during the night. The next morning, we were both somehow awake and lying together before the alarm and he didn't even need it for the first time. We didn't really say much, just lay in silence, both knowing that this was goodbye. When he got up out of bed, he took care to take the towel with him so he was covered up (that he had wrapped around himself the previous night after cleanup and was somehow in bed) and I remarked lazily on how "weird" he was. He got ready as I lay around the bed as usual.

When he came to ask for his shirt, I remarked that he was going to have to get it, and he got the gist surprisingly quickly. He got in bed next to me and began kissing me in a decisive way that made me get lost in the moment, slipping his hands inside the shirt and coming close to the front without quite getting right there. A short while later, he slipped off the shirt and I felt a little exposed and pulled up the blanket. He kissed me again, then I buried my face in/ under various pillows to conceal my emotions as he continued to get ready.

I felt strangely dry emotionally, but with a veritable tide of emotions somewhere in the distance that I could sense. I think I made a couple of weird half-choking noises under my pillows/ as he said bye that made him look at me questioningly, but restrained from crying. Part of me wanted to so that he would understand my feelings, but I'm never very good at appreciating goodbyes during the moment so I would have had to push myself into it and it felt embarrassing. It was a somewhat emotionless and standard goodbye with a little bit of awkwardness - neither of us are very good at goodbyes.

Might have cried a little right after he walked out of the door (could probably still hear), but can't remember if I just wanted to or this happened. Climbed up to the window of the room facing the entrance of the hotel and called out as I saw him exit a bit later (I think now he might have waited outside the door for a little while). He turned around at my second call, and I waved enthusiastically as he returned it somewhat confusedly. Watched him walk out the gate and down the street and away from me.

Another interlude

Our conversations after I left were still fun and more affectionate. Once in a while he would say things about how he missed me and was "wishing [I was] there so much" and how I was "like #1 on [his] list of people to see", which I always loved. I let him know that I thought he should stay for the year for study abroad, though he had the option to come back after 3 months, because I knew that was what he wanted.

I decided to continue my new policy of embarrassing honesty whenever I was worried about something (aka wanted to clarify this feelings for me etc.) and did so to surprisingly successful results. We established that he had guessed that I liked him before the summer even started, and that he knew he liked my company and could like me if he let himself, but he was trying to be cautious since he didn't think he could "make something of it" and didn't want to hurt me.

We both established that we had no regrets about the situation, and he confirmed that he knew I liked him once I held his hand but just "wanted to enjoy it for a while" before he asked questions.

I would go through slightly stressed moments and there was an incident where he said I was asking too many questions (because he was trying to do too many things at once, he immediately apologized and felt terrible). He also compared me to the dog from Up when I said "FRIES" about some food, and we stayed up some nights while texting. He helped me pick thank you cards for coworkers and we encouraged each other about our endeavours and shared random facts about our lives - similar to our usual conversations but definitely a little closer.

He once said something about how much he would miss me and how much fun it was when I visited (even though he thought it wasn't fair that it was just one weekend). I sent him a goodbye text about how much I had enjoyed talking to him and getting to know him and spending time with him and having him "assuage my overthinking" and how I knew he would have so much fun abroad.

Once I left, we didn't talk very much for a little bit as he packed up and transitioned into moving. He was in the same time zone again, and we exchanged a couple of emails and he flippantly said something about how I should just visit (in response to me encouraging him to) and I suddenly realized this was possible.

After establishing clearly that he was serious and it wouldn't be an inconvenience, I checked with my mother (who knew most of the story). She was nothing but encouraging about me actually going for something that wasn't the most sensible. I did reassure her that we weren't going to be having sex (I thought it would be too much commitment) but she was more concerned about me making decisions I was comfortable with. My father, too, didn't have many objections beyond safety.

So I looked into things and it was possible. We continued to exchange emails leading up to my visit, and he made very clear that he was looking forward to it and we joked about drinking wine and sleeping most of the time. His host family invited me to stay, but I had already booked my hotel and decided this would just be easier.

The Visit

So I deliberately left the last post on a suspenseful note, to force myself into writing the rest of this. I've had this terrible sense of lethargy for the last week or two - I can't motivate myself to work or do anything even halfway productive. And so maybe doing this somewhat-productive thing will spur me into working.

(Note: I'm actually writing this quite a long time later, after I've finished later posts that in the story timeline. Procrastination ahoy! Parts of this post are also slightly PG-13)

After the incident of 'no game', I was left with a lot of regrets. I just hated missing out on a potential opportunity. I wouldn't have minded if he had said no/ nothing had happened but I knew that I could have totally invited him to my room to at least talk without it being awkward so I just felt like that was stupid of me to not give it an opportunity. This was an unfamiliar feeling for me - I've never felt like I clearly missed a chance.

As I may have mentioned, I spent the summer in a different place. However, I did get to visit from one Wednesday night-Sunday afternoon. He met me at the airport because I asked him to since my mum wanted someone to meet me if I was taking a night flight, and I decided to be brave and ask him to be this person. He was a little bit late (as ever) but I didn't mind. When he got there, I was sitting at the coffee shop and we just hugged - after a little wave from him and a "Really? You aren't going to hug me?" from me. The first thing he noticed was the height of my heels (that couldn't fit in the suitcase I had stuffed with things I planned to leave there). 

In the taxi home, we talked about the usual things - books, people, lives, stories - and I sat in the centre of the back seat with him to my left, acutely aware of his presence and feeling a bit of wild nervous energy slightly in the distance of my mind. I was staying at a friend's place and some friends had gathered there to welcome me, so he just joined us there after he helped me carry my stuff up.

That was something I appreciated - since all my friends have known each other well for quite a few years and can sometimes be a little insular and it's hard to hang out with a group of people that all have known each other for a while and meet all of them at once. Additionally, they all (of course) knew who he was and kept trying to give us time to talk meaning they didn't make as much effort to talk to him.

So we were all drinking and he was somewhat quiet and we sat on a couch a little bit to the side and I tried to include him in conversation and give him some time to interact on his own. I got pretty tipsy after not feeling it for a while, and the night passed pretty quickly. When people were heading out, I decided for some reason (probably because I wanted to spend more time with him) that I wanted to walk him home because he was the only person that lived a 15-minute walk away and I felt bad about him walking back alone.

It was probably around 2 a.m. at this point, and my friends were pretty concerned as they didn't know him particularly well and weren't sure whether he would actually allow me to walk back drunk by myself after dropping him off. However, I am no less stubborn when drunk and insisted on leaving with him and two other friends (both of whom immediately and impressively disappeared once we went down the stairs, aided somewhat intentionally by my going to look for them on the wrong side of the back road). I was at least wearing flats (flip-flops to be precise) at this point.

We walked over to his place in the balmy summer weather, with tipsy me partly using the liquid courage in order to hold on to his arm and lean on him. At some point, my hand slipped into his and my heart did a frantic dance ('WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!!') but I had no reaction on the surface. We continued walking, his grip getting tighter as we passed through deserted back streets that I knew but he was unfamiliar with.

I acceded to his request and we moved to the equally deserted but more central road. We were still holding hands and I was enjoying our leisurely stroll very much. I can't remember if we were even talking, but I remember him stopping me to tell me that there was someone following us whose shirt had changed colour from black to white.

I was pretty confused and sure he was drunk, but upon turning around discovered that he wasn't completely inaccurate - there was indeed someone in white that appeared to be following us. Weirdly, I don't remember being scared at all. Maybe I felt safe with him. I think he wanted to try and turn around and confront the person, but (remembering every lesson from every horror movie ever) I yanked his hand pretty firmly to prevent him from going back. Instead, I pulled him forward and we continued at a slightly more rapid pace.

A few minutes later, I turned around again, and this time thought that I recognized my friend. This was one of the friends that had left to 'walk' with us, and I assumed he was following to make sure I was safe. I didn't mention this to F because I wasn't particularly sure and preferred to leave the element of suspense a little bit. I did shoot off a text to the friend, and grew increasingly more sure as we kept walking (though I didn't receive an affirmative reply until morning).

I did continue to turn around periodically during the rest of our walk, both to check whether the person was still there and try to recognize them, and to make him see that I was potentially worried about this. These times he kept tugging on my hand to keep me walking.

Once we got to his place, I said something to the effect of "Well, bye!" but he refused to let me walk home alone. I argued this with him for a while, and he agreed that I was perfectly capable but still wouldn't let me walk home alone. To be honest, I have no idea why I was having this argument - if he had actually let me walk home alone I would have been both disappointed and hurt. And the town really is very deserted at night, especially over the summer. I remember uttering something to the effect of "What was the point of walking all this way if you weren't going to let me walk home alone?" (my friends had a lot of responses to this question later).

So we walked back towards where I was staying, albeit using a slightly different route, still hand in hand. This way took us past more of campus, and I remarked on how beautiful and quiet it was during the summer, and we somehow hit upon the idea of going to visit the lake near our campus. I think I remember him tugging me in that direction, but it was a pretty mutual decision.

I remember stopping at some point to turn around and look and see if we were still being followed (we were not after leaving his place), partly because I wanted to stop and see if he would come back for me. He did somewhat, or at least called me forward and I shook aside my foolishness.

When we got to the lake, I left my blazer and phone and shoes next to the pile with his backpack before we climbed over the fence to get to the rocks near the lake. I assumed we were just going to sit on the rocks and talk for a while, and was definitely taken aback when he started pulling off clothes.

He then jumped into the lake with only his underwear on and I was incredibly confused and somehow felt pressed for time and a little unsure and ended up jumping into the lake with my dress on. It was a light cotton tank dress so it wasn't the worst situation, but it was still not the best idea. And I was even wearing cute underwear...not sure what the confusion was about. Probably alcohol.

The lake was cool but not too cold. Before I jumped I was a little worried that this would be one of those stories where drunk people made poor decisions and bad things happened, but the lake was shallow for a long way so we were basically just sitting in the water. We paddled around (he went a lot closer to the shore, we jumped in on the side, somewhere near the middle) not particularly near each other, and I enjoyed relaxing in the water doing my own thing and paddling around. I paddled out to see if it got deeper, and felt the water get distinctly colder and sensed it was about to get deeper and stopped there. Mostly I just enjoyed paddling and floating around as he did his own thing.

Definitely distinctly thought that this would be the perfect moment for him to kiss me in the lake with the moonlight and signs looked promising, and yet it felt like a distant thought and not too real. And he didn't, but I wasn't really disappointed. We chatted a little also. A while later, he got cold, but I was happy paddling around and didn't want it to end, so he had to ask a couple of times before I was ready to go.

When we climbed out, my dress was completely soaked, and I was rather chilly. I sat on the fence we had climbed over for a little bit and he stood in front of me as we waited for our clothes/ selves to dry a little bit. He was shirtless and cold and I remember I hugged him for a while in an attempt to keep warm as he stood facing me and I leaned my head on his shoulder.

It was chilly and I didn't want to ruin my nice work blazer with my wet dress, so I convinced him to give me the striped blue button down he was wearing over his white v-neck, then wore that as a jacket over my dress, despite feeling guilty about his chilliness.

He needed to use the bathroom, so we headed towards the nearby student centre, which was obviously closed. Upon finding an open door in the basement, we snuck in, and decided to go upstairs to some student offices on the third floor that he had access to, after he went to the loo. Unfortunately, the door to access these areas was locked (as it often is at night, especially over the summer). We moved to the service elevator, which would get us inside, but got distracted upon discovering that there was a fourth floor hitherto unknown.

With a vague aim of getting the the roof, we went to the fourth floor, which was mostly dark and used for storage/ pipes. The drunkenness did not help us locate the roof, though I did climb a ladder somewhat reluctantly (in front of him, so he could catch me in case of trouble; complaining about my anxiety with heights) only to find that whatever trapdoor it led to was locked. We didn't get much more of a chance to explore/ were leaving when he warned me in a whisper about a guard and began running.

The guard, who might have been upstairs to check out mysterious figures on the security camera, missed him but made eye contact with me, at which point I began running too. Somehow we found the stairs and sprinted downstairs, only to find locked doors. We ran to a different route (at this point my flip-flops were out and in my hand) and finally made it out of the front door without incident. I have no idea if the guard in the safety vest was even following us, but I didn't want to get caught and find out. I did have a plan to tell him I went to another university if caught, which worked since I had no id on me.

After we ran down the slope outside our student centre, I slipped my shoes back on and we switched to more of a walk, holding hands again. I think at some point he slipped away for the bathroom again, while I leaned on the bridge and watched the lake and thought about not very much at all (apart from the fleeting thought about him washing his hands).

Still, we kept walking in the direction of where I was staying. On the way though, we passed by the entrance of one of the underground tunnels on campus, which both of us had wanted to explore (or at least I had, now that I think he might have been there before). I guess neither of us was quite ready for the night to end, because we ended up climbing down to them.

I went first and commented on how he was always making me go first (especially since this was into a dark pit), to which his counter was that I wouldn't be able to lift the entrance covering back in place. On my way down, I felt reluctant about jumping down from the bottom of the ladder to the dark floor, so I squatted on a large pipe running along the wall with the same sense of zen I sometimes get when drunk. After he came down, he helped me jump down, and we walked along the somewhat uncomfortably warm tunnel.

My greatest fear was a rat running along my foot, as I mentioned as I followed him along the tunnel. They were too narrow for us to walk side-by-side, so I followed him while remaining close to his backpack for safety's sake. It was just a long path that eventually led to what I recognized to be the basement of one of our campus buildings. I led us upstairs and then we took the back door out. He seemed a little disappointed that we had only gotten to a building he knew.

As we exited, we jumped down from a little ledge and I hesitated a little, mostly because of the flip-flops. Without much of a pause, he just reached back and lifted me, setting me down as though I weighed nothing. While none of the other random lifting up and down from ladders had been particularly noteworthy (but nice), this somehow made my heart skip a beat a little.

After this, we did finally end up walking back to my friend's place since it was 5 a.m. at this point. She had left the back entrance open but I had no clue how to find it so we walked to the front and I had to call her boyfriend to wake him to let us in as we sat on the stairs outside her place half-asleep. I offered to let him stay and he half-asked where and I mentioned my friend had two couches. I changed and we passed out almost immediately - on separate couches. I kind of wanted him on my couch but didn't know how to ask without making it perfectly obvious that I was into him so I didn't.

At the back of my mind the whole night was the thought that it would be the perfect moment for him to make a move, yet a part of me didn't expect it at all. There was still a possibility that the holding hands thing was friendly and had nothing to do with attraction on his part, since it could be merely rude to just let go.

I kept thinking that it would be the perfect minute for him to make a move and he didn't. I mean he did stuff like lifting me up and down from ladders then we walked back to my friend's place where I was staying and he crashed for the night but on a separate couch. and I kind of wanted him to be on the same couch but I didn't know how to ask so I didn't.


The next day, he woke and left for work relatively early (but I was up before him for some reason texting my friends about my night). I spent most of the day just relaxing since friends were at work - couldn't really nap for one reason or another - and he came over again that night around 11:30 p.m. since I invited him to another party my friends were having.

This time it was for one of my friends who was transferring schools (a shock for many of us), and by the time he got there my friends were rather spectacularly drunk. I went downstairs to meet him mildly buzzed and we went upstairs where we sat and drank for a while. I hovered near him while conducting various conversations with friends and making sure to talk to him and get him drinks once in a while.

Rather soon, my friends decided to get to the roof of the building so we all clambered up ladders onto the roof with no railings and my friends worried me by going close to the edge. I sat somewhat leaning on his knees, clearly in his space, while I went around at intervals preventing friends from drinking too much and going too close to the edge of the roof.

Again, it was a little awkward since I had conversations with friends who all knew each other and I didn't do a very good job of including him. After the roof (which he left a little early to use the bathroom), we began all heading over to the lake (but another part) on the drunken impulses of friends. On the way over, my hand somehow slipped into his as we walked behind almost all my friends and he conversed with one of them. I recognized this as a somewhat encouraging sign and enjoyed it.

At the lake, friends scattered on the grass and the rocks leading up to it. I collapsed into a pile of friends and we fell asleep on the grass with one friend with his head on my stomach and another with her head on his stomach. My head was on F's chest/ arm, and we woke nearly 20 minutes later as some friends roused us to leave. On the way home, my drunken male friends formed a circle and began singing 'Titanium' incredibly loudly while I worried about noise levels. Fortunately, he was on hand to exhort me not to worry about it and somehow I decided to stop mothering my friends and just kept walking with my hand in his and left. The next day, I found grass stains on my orange shorts and he found that his keys were gone. Still, it was a pretty successful night.

Once we got back, I followed my friend's suggestion (this was brilliant) and as he was about to pass out on the other couch I told him that the friend I was staying with and her boyfriend had had sex on that couch. This was plausible actually but totally false, and somehow drunken me came up with an elaborate lie about how I had just found out about it and it was when the two of them had built a fort (good lies always mix truth in).

He asked "What should I do then?", and I told him it was fine if he slept on the other couch where I was sleeping. I then felt creepy for tricking him into the same bed, and decided to not make any kind of move despite my incredible affinity for cuddling, so we just went to sleep. 

Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the middle of the night to find myself wrapped around him (subconscious me, damn you) and decided it was warm and nice so to just let it be. However, the conscience kicked in a few seconds later and I decided to move away. Fortunately, he cuddled me from behind once I did this and I fell asleep happy and spooning.

We got to bed slightly earlier this night - around 3 or 4 a.m., but he had to wake up around 6 a.m. for work unfortunately. He kept snoozing his alarm and returning to bed and cuddling me again, as I grew more worried about him missing his last day of work. I was very happy about the cuddling but I knew by now that he had a tendency to be late and I didn't want to be the reason he missed work. This emerged as me saying, "Don't you have to go?" He responded with a "Yeah" and left shortly after...

And he still hadn't made a move. Of any sort. I was not particularly hopeful.

On Friday (the same day), he came over in the evening and we watched Requiem for a Dream, which I had mentioned that I had wanted to see and he had mentioned in the previous days that he had gotten from the library. It was a very good movie, but I was a little conscious about watching it next to him, and kept moving around a little during the movie and wondering whether to lean on him (doing so partly). I pretended to fall asleep on his shoulder with about 10 minutes to go. I was tired since we had both gotten 5 hours of sleep in two days, and I was sitting next to him while partly leaning on his shoulder and sitting/ half-lying on the couch with part of our feet dangling off the end.

I'm not sure at what point he noticed I was asleep, but he sat there for a while even after the movie ended. A few minutes later, he got up to put the movie disk and computer away and I merely readjusted to curl on the couch. He was fiddling with his backpack for a while and I was afraid he was going to leave so I 'woke up' with a start and gazed at him. He came back and lay next to me as we had been during the movie, but I moved away in order to lie so that I was lengthwise on the couch instead of my feet dangling off. I was afraid he would take this as a sign that I didn't want to lie next to him, but I was glad when he readjusted so that he was lying next to me again.

At this point, we had the most chill conversation that is incredibly hard to describe. For the first time I wasn't worried at all about whether he was interested or not. Instead I just lay on my side with my nose kind of nuzzled in his hair, facing him on his back. I played with his hair idly, draped across him a little bit. This conversation would probably be how I define young love, clichéd as that sounds - we didn't discuss anything particularly deep or open our hearts - it was just incredibly relaxed and comfortable. We weren't talking the whole time - he drifted in and out of sleep a little, but I was uncharacteristically okay with the silences. 

At some point an hour after the time he had said he had to go, he said that he needed to leave. I used my arm to prevent him from getting up and asked for five more minutes (also incredibly uncharacteristic). A minute or two later, I felt selfish and said he could go if he needed to, but he said the five minutes weren't over yet and continued lying there (to my delight). Definitely over five minutes later, I felt bold enough to kiss his ear and tell him he could go. He got up, having promised his brother he would be at some sort of religious study, but returned after (late, as usual) as promised for yet another party I had coerced my friends into hosting.

By this point, I was really wondering why he hadn't made a move. I was in a state of zen after this conversation, but I wondered if he didn't like me. I felt as though I had made every move - holding his hand, cuddling him etc. - and although he seemed to be reciprocating, I was very worried I was just pushing my feelings onto him. 

There were no moves left for me to make except kissing him, and since it was my first kiss and I felt pushy already, this seemed like too big a step. I considered telling him I liked him (encouraged heavily by my friends, one of whom was nice enough to spend considerable time convincing me at least telling him was mature and a good idea and that I was 'not 13 years old'). It still seemed like a big step and something I had never done before. If I had even come close to doing this with X, we could have avoided years of pointlessness.

At the party - more relaxed and smaller-scale than the others and both of us were exhausted anyway - we drank mostly whiskey and he got to know my friends better. Beer pong was played, and he sat next to me with his arm on the couch behind me (as I was told). He went to the bathroom at one point (recurring theme), and one of my friends from high school called me and was upset and crying about relationship drama. I walked past all my friends in order to take the call behind the house, which somehow none of my friends noticed.

They began calling and texting me as I was on the phone with this friend, probably having noticed that I had vanished. I had an inkling as to what this might be about, but decided to let them worry for a little and focus on my friend. He happened to be the one to come out behind the house and find me (a stroke of fate I really appreciated) and I was almost done with the call by then. 

I felt a little flat and exhausted and out of it after the emotionally draining call, so he was nice enough to get my bag after I told him that I wanted to leave. Once he did, I realized I should probably say goodbye to my friends and went inside to reassure them I was okay while he waited behind for me. 

On the short walk home, we were holding hands again. The alcohol and tiredness and convincing from friends somehow combined in order to build courage within me. I stopped, faced him, and said, "I really like you, why won't you make a move??" (only slightly paraphrased). I continued, "I've made all the moves and I mean it's fine if you don't like me but [continue word vomit]". 
Him (laughing slightly): "Of course I like you (actually not too sure if he actually said this), but there's a lot of reasons."
Me, tactful as ever: "What reasons?"
Him: "Well, whenever I've dated really close friends in the past, it hasn't really worked out and ruined the friendship. And"
Me: "You're also leaving."
Him: "Yeah, I mean I don't want to start something right before I go, and distance is hard."
Me (taken aback): "I don't want distance, I just want you to make a move!" (Trying to convey that I didn't want a long-distance relationship with someone I'd barely been in the same city as, but I liked him and wanted to enjoy our time together). "We can still be friends after."
Him: "Oh, okay."

At some point during this conversation we had transitioned to standing with my hands around his neck with his around my waist, which I periodically used to support my weight and enjoy the sensation of leaning back. We continued to talk, as for some reason I went over all the thoughts I'd had in the last couple of days about his actions (including the lie about the couch and the lake having been the perfect moment for a kiss) and he laughingly attempted to defend himself.

To be fair, once we had talked I could understand why he hadn't made a move or brought it up, since he obviously assumed I wanted a relationship. It made sense to not want to get into long distance - this is also what I wanted. He couldn't assume that as his friend I just wanted to hook up, so it was a good thing I brought it up since he is too nice to just make a move he wouldn't be able to follow through on without knowing what I wanted.

I realized we couldn't actually go 'home' because my friend and her boyfriend were occupying the place, and since I had instructed them to take their time in order to give us time (and didn't even let him know immediately once they were done), we decided to go for a bike ride. 

Accordingly, we stopped briefly at my friend's place (running into two other friends on the way who had apparently been trying very hard to avoid us and were a little awkward) where the party had been (with some drunken boys throwing a bottle near him on the way) while I used the bathroom and he got his bike. The first thing I apparently said when my friend opened the door was "He said he likes me!" in a beatific tone. I quickly took a courage shot and updated this friend, who had been the one to encourage my telling him. Unfortunately once he got there I also told him to leave for a minute before me so that I could "talk to my friend about you". Questionable decisions...

During the course of the night, I also confessed that I thought he was both cute and hot, my anxieties about him not making a move and making all of them, and that he was the first guy I had told my feelings to (this in a tone of shock). I also said something on the bike about how we weren't having sex. Apparently honesty and alcohol are a dangerous combination...I still cringe a little.

Once we left, I discovered his bike was the kind that you need to stand on the back of. This was something I'd never done before, and my general sense of balance and drunkenness didn't help raise my confidence in this endeavour. However, I didn't say anything and got on, and it was surprisingly easy. After some debate about where to put my arms so I didn't choke him, I slipped them under his arms and up around them so that I was like a human backpack.

We rode fast through the deserted streets (in the back of my mind was the concern about a car appearing but no such thing happened) and I mentioned my slight worry about the speed. I feel like he went a little bit faster because he could tell I would tense up as he did and cuddle closer towards him, since he jokingly remarked on it. I was legitimately mildly worried about the steep slope near our library, and buried my face in the back of his neck as we went down. We reached our destination without incident, which turned out to be the lake.

I hadn't really thought about where we were going, but was fine with the lake once more and didn't think too much of it. This time I actually took off my jeans and shirt so I was in my underwear (basically a swimsuit), commenting on how my underwear had been cuter the last time around. I also made some sort of comment about how this would ruin my hair, which I had conditioned especially because I knew it would be in his face when we slept, which he seemed to amusedly appreciate.

The lake was a little colder this time, and I ended up somehow sitting in his lap facing him (slightly scandalous since both of us were in our underwear) as we cuddled and talked. I knew very clearly suddenly that he was going to kiss me and was immediately very afraid about being terrible at it - for inattentive non-existent readers, this was my first kiss. 

So I indirectly staved it off, not awkwardly by moving my face away, but through sensing the mood and burying my face in his neck or kissing his nose instead and generally avoiding it. 

Then he put his hands on his face and kissed me. It was kind of smooth, given my jokes about how he hadn't made the perfect first move in the lake (somehow I failed to predict this until right before he was about to kiss me). Unfortunately I was really freaking out about being a terrible kisser and having no idea of what I was doing, so I froze up a little and noticed the unfamiliar sensation of someone's lips moving against mine.

The moment was perfect and the kiss certainly wasn't disappointing, just a mix of terror and unfamiliarity. For days, I couldn't think about it without being embarrassed (he commented later while I was teasing him about making moves that I hadn't actually responded much at all, which I remarked was because I was terrified because "it was you!"). I pulled away relatively quickly and he was freezing so we got out of the lake.

Naturally, on my way out, I slipped on a mossy rock and fell with an audible thud onto my bum. I sat there and began laughing hysterically at this, since physical comedy always amuses me, but he was very concerned about my well-being. There weren't any scratches but I was a little bruised and sore the next day and he felt bad and I got some backrubs out of it. I didn't mind at all - it was my fault and I thought it was hilarious, but he blamed himself a little.

Once we were home, we just went to bed very quickly and fell asleep cuddling. He had to nudge me towards the bathroom to get me to change and not pass out in my wet clothes, which I then did. We definitely got sand from the lake all over my friend's bathroom - I felt pretty bad about this the next day but she said she didn't mind.

The next morning we were finally able to sleep in more, and cuddled most of the morning. I enjoyed this greatly. I woke up a little bit before him as usual - I couldn't sleep as much around him - and was basically texting/ IMing my friends about the night as I lay in his arms with his nose against my ear. I checked carefully to make sure he was actually asleep though.

I woke him around 11, as my friends were lazily making their way towards brunch. I asked him if he wanted to go to brunch, informing him on his affirmative response that all my friends would be there (his taste in women is inexplicable). He was a little embarrassed but still fine with it, though he insisted on going home to change before.

He joined us there a little later - it was a large group and things were boisterous but very enjoyable. My friends were their usual inappropriate selves (competing to drink more coffee, discussing various bodily functions), and a fun time appeared to have been had by all. I wrapped my legs around his under the table as we shared a veggie omelette and hash browns that I ate very little of despite having been hungry earlier.

After brunch, we all stood outside while I asked him a little awkwardly on the side what he wanted to do. He let me know that he had to go but (maybe) muttered something that sounded like a reassurance that he cared about me, which he refused to repeat and I didn't really hear. He helped a friend pack during the day, and they eventually slowed down and watched TV. I resented this a little since I wanted him to spend as much time with me as possible, but it wasn't too big a deal since I watched a movie with friends and we slacklined in a park and ordered Indian food and wandered around the town.

That day (Saturday), he came over before the party in the evening. This level of partying was abnormal for all of us, but it was the only weekend in my summer I got to be with friends so I made them throw parties and some occasions also fell during this period. We just lay there cuddling as it grew dark outside, and I wanted nothing more than to just stay there and fall asleep. He encouraged me to do so, but I was determined in my motivation to see some friends I hadn't really seen.

Everyone was pretty exhausted, and the party was even more low-key. It was a little awkward also because G (remember him?) was there. It's not like the two of us ever really dated or were even interested in each other, but it was a little awkward because he knew F and we had mutual friends, none of whom I wanted knowing about this given that it was a short fling. So I tried to keep it subtle around G.

We spent a lot of time just talking in the kitchen by ourselves during the party, although we did join the larger group for some games in the living room. We sat on the couch with my hand slipped in his in between us in a subtle manner, and he seemed to be having fun talking to my friends. My friend asked me an odd question during a game about "Top or bottom?" and I said "Top" but managed to clarify with a comeback that this was because it was a "stupid question and I'd said the first thing that came to mind". Studiously didn't look at him at this point.

I wasn't really feeling engaged in the party, and I felt bad making him leave since he seemed to be enjoying himself, but we ended up heading out pretty early. Once again, though, we were waiting for my friend and her boyfriend to get back (and they had been instructed to take their time) so we just walked around the town talking and with his arm around my shoulder (I put it there) or in mine. We also stopped a few times to stand with my arms around his neck or with his arms around me from behind. 

We were walking in slightly removed parts of my town that I hadn't really been to before, and it was actually pretty great. We stopped by a children's park to stand and talk on the play bridge, to grab some kind of fruit from a tree (this was all him; one of them was bad) near a house, and just generally around town. At some point he thought he saw his older brother in a car passing by and immediately dropped my hand and moved forward to check it out (which didn't really bother me at the time but is a little prick of hurt now).

Honestly, in telling this story I feel as though words are slightly insufficient because they sound clichéd and incomplete and so incapable of encompassing the moments and emotions behind them. I hope your mind will be able to fill that in.

The part of our conversation I do remember (most of it was me spilling my thoughts about him to him) was that I told him most of my friends knew about the events between us. I believe it was in response to something he said about how he never discusses this kind of thing with his friends. I responded with surprise, and revealed many of my friends knew. He asked whom, and I listed about ten of my closest friends, to his mild consternation. I obviously then checked if that was okay, and told him that I obviously kept some details to myself, but he said he was fine with it.

Eventually we went back and kissed a little bit in the dark on the bed (initiated by him), and this time I was more enthusiastic and appreciated it more, but we passed out quickly. We cuddled all night (fun game: count how many times the word cuddled was used in this post).

We woke up around 8:50 a.m. when my friend and her boyfriend were heading out for the day and were saying goodbye. Fun fact: the first time my friend had walked in the previous day while we were cuddling, he had quickly jumped away, but by this point he was probably accustomed to my friends and didn't even move from where we lay spooning as my friends walked by.

It was only when my friend said goodbye to me (I knew I wouldn't see him for six months) that I jumped up to hug him, after which they left and we returned to being wrapped around each other. He had said he needed to leave at 10 (while I had to leave for the airport at 12), and it was about 8:50 a.m. at this point.

I felt like we should do something instead of just sleeping the morning away, and said as much. Of course his response was just "whatever you want". At first I had some vague desire to go get food or something, but then I realized I was perfectly happy to lie there and casually talk and cuddle.

He made a move at some point and we essentially made out off and on for about two and a half hours (he ended up actually leaving around 11:30 a.m.). This time I was a lot less worried about being terrible at it because I was getting more practice and was a little more prepared, and it just felt good. I finally understood why people do it all the time. 

I did forget at the start to stop breathing/ taking breaks to breathe naturally and got a little bit lightheaded (amateur) and had to stop for a brief pause, where I began laughing and said something about how he was making it hard to breathe (then paused and was like "Did I really just say that?" as he laughed). I also said something in one of the pauses about how I heard [the city where I was for the summer] was a really nice place to visit. He just said 'hm' or some such thing, and a few minutes later I corrected this by saying that it was actually not a very nice city (he was like yes I heard there isn't much to see there) but that the city where my parents live is actually very nice. This was strategic since this was where he was going to study abroad, and he said some sort of yes. After which I reiterated that there was no pressure to do this, and he laughed and we resumed.

Another little moment I remember is when I was somehow on top of him (I think I was trying to get to the other side of the couch) while making out. I was resting most of my weight on my arm by his side and complained a little about my arm hurting. It took him a second or so to process this, but when he did he just swung me over him so that we switched and he was on top. This I especially enjoyed because I love when he takes the lead and moves me around a little like I weigh nothing.

We didn't do much beyond kissing - his hands were in my shirt but just on my back and most places that weren't my chest. My hands were mostly wrapped around his neck or in his hair, though a couple of times I placed them a little awkwardly on his back. I wouldn't have minded if he went further but I didn't quite know how to ask beyond pressing myself against him (which I did). I think I told my friends we got to second base. He did do a lot of stuff that made me feel like he cared, like making the first move, and kissing other parts of my face in between and cuddling me and playing with my hair. All of which I greatly appreciated. 

I still cringe when I realize that I hadn't brushed my teeth at this point even though I got up to use the bathroom. It wasn't an issue on his part since he got up at some point to freshen up, but I was just tired and disinclined to move. I later discovered that this was because I was literally just about to get my period, but it's still not the best thing.

When he finally had to leave, I got up to say goodbye and he kissed me goodbye - I realized this was the first time we'd kissed standing up. I was sad to see him go, since I wouldn't see him again before he left for the year. We didn't really comment on it much, just kissing before he left.

After he left, I realized I'd gotten my period (fortunately I expected it a little), and just wandered around in a haze of pain and sadness, packing. A few of my friends came over and brought me soup as I updated them, which I appreciated and made me less sad and flat-feeling. Then I left around 12:40, uncaring about missing my flight - though I didn't. 

That was it. We continued texting while we were able - for the next three weeks until the end of my summer, and there was a little awkwardness when I thought he didn't want to talk any more (I was reading too much into things as usual) but it was generally enjoyable and I was still clearly into him. We had established clearly that we were still going to be friends, which helped. I wasn't too sad, but there was a week or so of dejection with little to distract me as I thought of the summer that might have been.