Yesterday, I hosted a get-together. Low key, nothing too serious with three good friends. Well, actually, let me first explain my relationship with the friends in question.
First comes “Audrey”. She is my trap queen, so there’s not much else to say about her. The people of interest are “Shivani” and “Peter.”
The three of us met a year ago in class. Because it was peer orientated, a lot of informal discussion took place, allowing us to grow closer even without seeing each other in a social setting. Throughout the months, Shivani and I remained in constant contact, unsurprisingly so because I tend get along better with girls than I do with guys.
It took me a couple of months and multiple attempts at planning a night out to realize the problem wasn’t me, it was Peter. He just didn’t seem to want to hang out with us. There was one time where we did hang out, but that’s it, just once.
Then, last night happened. The three of us, Audrey was drinking vodka, finished 18 beers and a bottle of wine. We played a drinking game that ended up being unproductive in its purpose, prompting us to embark on a Power Hour. If you don’t know what Power Hour is let me explain: for one hour, you have one beer shot every minute on the minute.
After the hour was complete, Audrey left and Peter stayed a while due to the state of his inebriation. While cleaning the kitchen, we started talking, heavily. We spoke of relationships and the such, in which case he asked me why I’ve never had sex. (The topic was brought up during a game of Never Have I Ever.) He stated that he didn’t care how I “was” (that was the gist of it, I don’t remember his exact wording). This led me to think he was letting me know it was ok for me to come out. But I didn’t.
We took the conversation to the living room where he laid down on the couch and I sat on the love seat. We spoke of his ex-girlfriend and religion, mostly. The conversation got deep.
Seeing him lying on the couch made him look real good. He looked good yesterday in general. He hadn’t shaved in a bit so he had a thicker scruff that had me on another level. The only think I could think about at times was going down on him. I even thought to myself, “Would he stop me if I made a move?” (Remember, I was drunk.)
But of course, my superego stopped these thoughts dead in their tracks.
He ended up crashing on the couch, which was surprising because at this point he was an acquaintance almost. I didn’t know he was comfortable enough with me to do so. I went up to my room and went straight to bed.
Hindsight being 20/20, I am so glad absolutely nothing happened. I imagine myself if I had done something and I would hate myself right now.
Last was fun because we all got to enjoy each other in way we had never done before. Last night was a good night.