Peter Goodman has never been in love. He disregards other's emotions including his own. He lives his life being a wingman, with no attachments and meaningless sex. It's a tiring life, until one day he decides that maybe instead of sleeping with the...
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Throughout my short life, I had heard two versions of having sex. There was fucking, and then there was making love. The first time I had sex the idea of making love immediately turned into a myth. There was no way I could connect to someone in another way that wasn't merely physical. The girl I had sex with moaned like a pornstar and had a daddy kink, which despite popular opinion was a total turn off. How could a fourteen-year-old get turned on by getting called daddy in a high pitched voice?
By the third time of having sex with a no-named girl, I had an epiphany, the best way to have sex was having meaningless sex. Girls in high school put up with my asshole ways up until my senior year, by then all the girls I had hooked up with expected a label. Thankfully when college came around everyone was used to one night stands so my worry with having to settle down was over. Everything was great, I was almost a sex addict, it got to the point of sleeping with different girls every other day. When I met Benny my sleeping around escalated, we became each other's wingman. I slept with the ugly friends while he slept with the pretty ones one day and he the other.
The pattern repeated over and over again until the meaningless sex spread and everything I did seemed to feel meaningless too.
Then I met Sandra Luna.
I didn't know she would turn my life around at first sight. I will be honest and say I could have never guessed she would. Back then I was a superficial jerk who thought all there was to a woman were her looks. She made me realize that looks aren't everything, that a smile could be more attractive than a tiny waist, that the reflection of yourself in someone's eyes can give you stupid butterflies. Sandra made me realize that the line between beautiful and ugly could blur because at the end of the day ugliness is the real myth. There's no such thing.
Without either of us knowing Sandra made me happy, genuinely happy. I found myself laughing with her, smiling at the little things she does. I found myself admiring her flaws and memorizing every detail of her face and body.
I fell in love with her. She gives my life meaning.
"I texted Paola, she said she's cool with staying with Andre," Sandra sucked on her bottom lip and avoided eye contact. Her shyness was infectious, I could feel my heart racing and my hands begin to sweat.
I'm not a fucking virgin, for god sake!
My pep talk did nothing as my nerves increased with the sight of her. She looked at me with her famous doe eyes. Her thumbs fiddled together, while her hair caged her face like a curtain as she looked down. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to." I didn't want her to think we had to be intimate because of the things we had done, I was willing to go as slow as she wanted.
"I want to." Her eyes met mine and held me captive in their warm hues. She kept me steady, a feeling of passion and belonging engulfed me as she smiled, her deep dimple reminding me that with her everything will always be okay. I can't picture myself ever looking at anyone the way I look at her.
