Univeristy Confessions 2

[TEF] It took me the 23rd dick...

It took me the 23rd dick to finally realize that hookups and one night stands do not really matter.

This Tinderella has over 7000 matches, met a few of them, and yes, hooked up with most of those she met. There's something about sex that makes me feel invincible, yet vulnerable. I can never explain how making a guy moan makes me feel good about myself. It makes me feel beautiful.

Then came this guy.

I met him on Tinder. Face: 8. Smile: 9. Bio:10. Grammar: 10. Humor: 10. Body: 6. 6-pack abs. That tatted chest, ugh. Who would ever swipe left on that guy? My heart skipped a beat, or maybe two, as we matched instantly. Of course, I got one of the most common compliments I get on Tinder: he likes my braces. "Only if I can touch your braces. But like, with my mouth." He's 5'11, originally from Mindanao, lives in Makati, works at home as a writer. One topic led to another, until we set the time and date for a you-know-what in my apartment.

It was a Monday, and rain was falling fucking hard. I was hungry for sex... no, I was starving. I was practically starving for sex at that time, excited about the kisses and thrusts and moans and cuddles I would get later that night. He arrived around 5 pm, with wet shoes, in blue long sleeves and faded jeans. He had longer hair than he had in the pictures, which gave me somewhat the Ezra Miller-in-The-Perks-of-Being-a-Wallflower-minus-the-crisp-jawline kind of vibe, which was cool, and hot at the same time. 5 minutes after entering the room, we were already literally making out while his playlist in Spotify was playing loud. We had to stop after an hour for dinner.

And there, for the first time in forever, I told myself, "PUTANGINA, SOBRANG SARAP PALA NG MAY KA-HOLDING HANDS SA GROVE." 22 other dicks, and I realized have never really touched anyone's hand in the streets. There's something so tender about holding hands in public, just like saying out loud "She's mine" without even saying a word. I was smiling the whole time. I was smiling when we walked slowly to Doymeals (because he asked me what my favorite is) only to find out that it's closed. I was smiling when we ended up in KFC, even as we were ordering Flavor Shots and admit to each other that we're both basic as fuck. I was smiling when we walked home, stopped on a sari-sari store to buy two sticks of Marlboro. I was smiling when the lady in the store asked me if the guy was my boyfriend, and heck, I was smiling when I told that lady (tho little giggles might be involved) that he's my cousin. We laughed about it when we were smoking those cigarettes, with an occasional kiss on the forehead. I can perfectly remember that, when he was looking at me in the eyes, and I asked why he was doing that, and he said he just loves staring and that he was simply amazed at how beautiful I am. Not that haven't heard it before, but this time, I really, truly felt beautiful. I hugged him. I'm 5'3, so when I hug him, my head is on his chest, and I can hear his heartbeat pounding against my cheek. It was perhaps best pounding I have ever felt.

He had to work that night, tho. He borrowed my laptop and did his writing job, talking to his client via Skype. I was just there, looking at the laptop-lighted, smooth, beautiful face, dazzled and amazed and knocked out
at this perfection. Little breaks from time to time, kisses and hugs in between those times. We were talking while he was working. He has this habit of rolling his eyes when he's talking, which is actually kinda cute. I didn't notice I fell asleep, tho. At 12, he woke me up with a kiss. I was really worried my breath might smell bad, but damn, those lips were fine af, I couldn't help kissing back. Needless to say, we had all night to enjoy all the temporary fun this stupid fucking world can muster.

The sex was good... God, it was really good. But everything else was better.

Morning coffee with him was better. Morning cuddles were better. Morning kisses, never bothered about not brushing our teeth, were better.

Yet the best was what happened when we were about to part. I was sad, obvi. "Thank you for being my cousin," I said jokingly, and he matched it with a poker face. He made that naughty smile he always had, and said "Thank you for being my date." To my surprise, he hugged me. Out in the streets. On the side of the road. While cars were stuck in a traffic jam along Lopez Avenue. In the middle of the day. At 2 pm. And everyone was looking (or so I believed). I felt what I felt when he held my hands along Grove, only 10 times better.

We rode a jeep. He needed to go home to Makati that day, and I needed to go to SM. To my biggest surprise, as he was about to leave the jeepney, he kissed me. He fucking kissed me. I felt all the blood in my body rush to my cheeks. I didn't see it but I knew I was blushing. The other passengers were looking at me. I couldn't help it. I was giggling inside, trying to keep my composure as the jeepney left Olivarez.

And then it hit me.

It's a no-brainer saying that he is a fuckboy. He definitely is. And heck, I am not in love. I am not crazy about ~ him ~.

I am crazy about ~ it ~ .

I couldn't help wondering how amazing it is to have an actual boyfriend who really, truly, genuinely cares. I can't help wondering how it feels to unconditionally love someone and feel loved back. I can't help wondering how it feels to have butterflies, and even the whole fucking zoo, in my stomach whenever someone kisses you and hugs you and treats you right.

Then and there I realized that I am not just a piece of meat, crazy about all the carnal satisfaction a few inches of boners can offer. I deserve to be loved. And I want to be loved. And so I will be.

I promise that the next time I do it, I do it with someone I love. The 24th is gonna be someone who cares.

23, 2013, CEAT