Many firsts.

I went to bed at 2am Friday (Saturday morning) and woke at 3am. I’ve never been a great sleeper, often waking and lying there thinking for long periods of time in the darkness. Being in a relationship has obviously not helped. I did get a few more hours of sleep that night, but I wished I could wake up feeling refreshed and excited instead of exhausted and anxious. The knot in my stomach seems to have taken up permanent residence and I’m having trouble eating. And believe me, I really like food and enjoy eating. I’m definitely not the kind of girl who’d pick at her food on a date, and it’s extremely odd to feel like my body just can’t chew and swallow. My anxiety does not normally manifest itself in such a physical way. Ironically, I’d just gotten back down to my goal weight, and a few days of little food has put me even below that. So silly.

So this was my state of being on Saturday. I tried to make myself to relax and sleep late, unsuccessfully. B was doing a walk fundraiser that morning in a neighboring city, and we’d decided that he would come over sometime in the afternoon, but didn’t set a time. My friend had recently joined OKC and was to have her first coffee date that day. I was excited for her and looking forward to hearing all about it. She called me at 10am, sick and miserable, and told me she’d had to cancel. I felt bad for her, and we both hoped that the guy would take her offer to reschedule at face value and not as a brush off. I got to tell her all about the previous night with B.

Then I finally dragged myself up and out to the farmers market, where my peach guy commented that I was late. By the time I got back home, it was already after noon. I tried eating and failed, gave up, got in the shower. I had just climbed out when my cell phone rang. It was B, who was right outside. I told him I needed five minutes, as I was standing there still dripping wet (didn’t tell him that). Very odd, to be rushing to get dressed, knowing that he was a few yards away, on the other side of the door. I put on capris and his blue button up, which was ridiculously large and more comical than sexy. Of course when I opened the door he knew I’d just gotten out of the shower.

We sat on the couch and he put his arm around me, and we talked about our mornings and how tired we still were. And I took a deep breath. I had a plan. A plan I’d been contemplating all week, a plan I could visualize more easily after finally being kissed the night before. I invited him to my room. Everything was set. Bed was made, fan was on low, enough natural light came in that we weren’t in darkness with the lights off, and Lenny and Sergei Vasilevich had been banished (they didn’t need to see this).

We stretched out and talked and held hands and he pulled me close. I love hanging out on my bed. It’s the first queen sized bed I’ve owned, and the first bed I picked out and paid for myself. And you see, my entire body was fully supported. There was nowhere to fall, and it was much more comfortable and intimate than the couch. He held me, he picked a book off the stacks on my night table and read to me. When he pulled me closer I said, “I have guidelines.” It was really only one guideline: anything above the belt was fair game; below the belt was off limits.

Two months ago I wrote, “Will I ever be comfortable? Can I be?” The answer, amazingly, is yes. I want to emphasize how real this question was to me. I’d read others’ dating blogs, and I truly couldn’t fathom how someone could go from not having kissed anyone to making out and having sex in such a short time. How was it possible? Surely, they must just have something I don’t. I think that a full two months spending time together strictly as friends was exactly what I needed.

I was more prepared for the kissing this time, more able to ignore the squelchy noises and the oddness of it all. More able to enjoy it. I’m really glad that B is uninhibited and enthusiastic. Because I want to be able to be that way, too. Just as I’ve always imagined, I loved feeling the full weight of his body on mine, and I loved his hands moving over my stomach and hips. I said, “Do you think it’s time I give you back your shirt?” and I unbuttoned the top button. (Eeek!) And then I undid the rest of the buttons, and there I was, bared from the waist up. And it wasn’t scary or embarrassing at all. It felt like a little miracle. B held his hand in the air above me and asked if I wanted to guide him. “No,” I said. “I trust you.” Eventually his shirt came off too and we were skin to skin.

The hours I spent in my room with B were the only hours of the whole day when my stomach wasn’t in knots. I let him do whatever he wanted, wanting to know what he would do, how it would feel, and how it would affect me. I loved lying next to him and watching him trail his fingers up and down my torso. He checked in with me (Is this below the belt?), we joked, we laughed. He asked if I was ever going to kiss him. “Not yet,” I said, still shy to initiate. “Give me some time. Maybe I’ll have to start like this.” I picked up his hand and kissed it. “Just like Gene Kelly.” Of course the dialogue in the film when Gene is kissing his way up the woman’s arm is “I love you I love you I love you,” so I didn’t say that part. A couple times he said, “I don’t know what you like.” My answer? “I don’t know either.” I guess we’ll find out.

So how were things below the belt? There was a moment when I felt some stirrings. I know it’ll take me a while to relax completely and really get into it. But it’s amazing to feel like sex is finally a real possibility for me.

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