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that my bag was gone (it was not, I was sleeping on it) and found that the old man who had been sitting next to me had been replaced by a cute guy.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.