He didn’t hold a place in my heart as Aaron* and Ezra* did, but he was a key component to my young-adult life crisis. He was the man with whom I had my first, and probably last, one night stand with. He was the man who got the goodies without a date, without a bond, without a like. And with that begins the rather brief but deep story of Marcus*.
I wasn’t too aware of his presence at work until about 4 months in. He was one of the many security guards that worked at my job; his father owned the company. I always found him to be very weird and so immature, but intriguing at the same time. He just turned 22 the previous month, was a skater guy, smoked a lot of weed, and had his own apartment (funded by his parents).
He was a free spirit.
How we started talking is truly a blur to me because I really don’t remember what led to it. We chatted here and there at work, but it wasn’t that deep. One night, however, he said, “So, how are you going to know if I’m ok or not on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday when you’re not here or I’m not here?”
I was so over it.
I had grown to not have patience with people. I really did prefer directness over everything. I knew that that was his way of asking for my number, so I blurted out, “What? Do you want my number?” He looked at me with a goofy smile and said “Yup!” like a happy little kid and wrote his number down on paper with a smiley face next to his name.
Sixth grade or nah?
Over the span of a few months, we hardly talked about anything. It was mostly random check ins or him randomly asking me personal questions, but other than that, there was nothing. After a while, I became uncharacteristically excited to see him at work. He instantly became this ‘eye candy’ type of thing for me. There were times where I would catch him staring at me and/or standing right behind me. I thought it was weird, but then I began to think that maybe he liked me. He started calling me Purple. He’d always ask why I worked so much. He’d hide the cart of go-backs from me when I was on the floor. He’d stand in front of my register to prevent people from coming on my line so he could chat with me. Then he started asking me for hugs. I only hugged him once, but from there, I knew something was brewing.
A week after the ‘brew’ commenced, he started calling me Purple Lips because of my lipstick (Shout out to MAC’s Cyber) and saying that I should watch out before he kissed me. *side eye*
We started texting just a bit more and going a bit deeper into our personal lives. I, with the impulsive curiosity that I have, asked when we were going to hang out outside of work. Of course, he took that as me hinting that I liked him. I didn’t say no, so I may have set myself up.
It was a Friday night. I had just gotten in from work. I was in my pajamas and sipping on some tea when I texted Marcus. He usually came to work on Fridays, and I didn’t see him, so I was curious to know where he was. Strike one. He began asking me what I was doing for the night… It was nothing, of course… Well, so I thought. He invited me to come ‘stay‘ with him. As much as I wanted to stay home, me being intrigued by him weighed more. I didn’t think anything would happen but I knew that there was a possibility. He wanted me to spend the night as I questioned him more. I could’ve been displaying poor judgment, but hey, what are your 20’s for, right? I agreed to ‘stay‘ with him. Strike two. A little after midnight, I was walking to the 2 train with Marcus. On our way to his house, we spoke about school, work, his parents, my parents, pizza, the long ass blocks we had to walk, and his favorite, weed. His neighborhood was nice-looking and quiet. Big trees. Stuff I admired. As we approached his building, I didn’t know what to expect. Actually, I was expecting a nice room…
*crickets*
It was a nice room minus the sheet as a curtain, the yard-high stack of Dutch Master boxes, the tv on top of a box, the Super Nintendo (who still got that?), the unmade bed, the black garbage bags full of clothes, and the pile of weed scraps at the side of his bed. I then began to question my sanity. Why was I there? He went to take a shower as I sat and ate my Sicilian slice, examining my surroundings. He came back, requesting that I change my clothes and turned off the light. (I had a ‘spinanight‘ bag. Well, more like a change of panties and pajama shorts. Who was I?) We were laid up watching Harry Potter, when all of a sudden, he asks me to turn around. Strike two and a half. I’m already frustrated with myself for being there and he starts to ask for a kiss. I interrupted him by talking to him about relationships and suggesting (or not) that he not touch me. He tells me I’m crazy and I’m ‘not ready’ anyway. He got up to smoke a blunt. He mellowed out. I thought it was cute (the remnants of previously being with a chain smoker *cringe*). I started rubbing the back of his head. *deep sigh* Strike two and three quarters. I don’t know how we got to the next thing, but we did. All I remember is him saying, “I don’t know if you’re gonna kiss me”. I turned to face the wall, he started kissing on my neck and BAM, I gave in. *deeper sigh* Yup! That’s me. We were kissing like there was no tomorrow, he climbed on top of me, took his clothes off (I took off my pajama shorts), slipped on a condom, and BAM, he was inside of me.
For about three minutes…
Until I busted out crying.
Think Insecure; Issa crying in Nathan’s mouth.
I don’t know if it was from being overwhelmed by the situation, guilt because I had just seen Aaron, sadness because I wasn’t quite over Ezra and the fact that he was the last person that I’d made love to, or the fact that I was doing something that I lived to never do. Maybe it was all of the above mashed together. I cried like somebody died, while Marcus sat up saying that it was ok, and that he understood. I gave the guy blue balls for God’s sake. It wasn’t ok. I took his offer of ‘staying‘ with him and gave him a bit of the goodies and my emotions snatched it away. Did I give him the wrong idea? Maybe. Did I have the wrong idea about this ‘stay’? Well, uh… All I knew was I wanted to run up out there quick, fast, and in a hurry. But then. I remembered.
It was like 4:30 in the morning.
I laid there apologizing for what seemed like a million times while he went to clean himself up. I couldn’t believe I was laid up, half naked, crying in this dude’s bed. This dude that I’ve known for a hot second. This dude that I only saw outside of work once (this moment). This dude that could possibly be a great guy, but judging from the situation, might not be. I was so confused. He came back asking me if I was ok. All I had was, “I don’t know.”
After laying in silence for what seemed like lightyears, I fell asleep, miserably. I woke up after three hours and reached over him to get my fully charged phone. I texted Laila* telling her that I had something urgent to talk about, then laid back down. He turned around and hugged me, saying that he was ‘in the mood’. The hell? Had he not learned anything from a few hours ago? Ain’t nobody thinking about doing you. I just wanted to leave. On our way to the train, I told him to pretend this never happened and that I wasn’t even at his house. He promised he would but then mentioned my ‘dialogue’ (let your imagination roam). Oh hell. This was real. If only I could’ve scrubbed our brains of it.
Moral of the story is for the first, well second, time in my life, I felt like a hoe. (More on that later) I felt like this was a life defining moment. Of course, I’m not a hoe and it wasn’t that big of a deal, but hey, I’m Miss Dramatic.
People have casual sex every day, B. *Mitch voice*
Back to Marcus.
I was still very intrigued by that man after that. I wanted to learn more about him. With no shame, I actually wanted to ‘do’ him again. *wide eyes* I know. Pathetic, right? But he was good for those three minutes… and well ‘endowed’. From this guy’s outer appearance, you would’ve never thought it was giving that. Anyway, I wanted to give him another chance. If you know what I mean. Was that wrong? Perhaps.
But hey, what are your 20’s for, right?
Til the patterned VS hiphugger flies,
Ella.
p.s. it did happen again a year and some change later. Let’s just say, we haven’t spoken since.
*Names changed to withhold the razzle dazzle.
The Daily Ella 