It's In The Stars. Buffy Andrews
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comfortable sharing intimate details. Even though I grew up in a bigger city than Victoria, Frankie and Jada, they know so much more than I do when it comes to sex. I had limited experience in that department and a lot of what I learned, I learned from Sex Week at school.
The university I attended held the event every year. I thought my mom and dad would flip when they heard about the student-led event. But I actually learned some cool stuff, like how to pick sex toys that don’t harm the environment.
My bestie Jen and I bought a pack of condoms one time and practiced putting them on bananas. We’d compete to see who could get the packet open and on the banana the fastest. I always won.
Because of Jen and our condom-banana bouts, I was ahead of most girls in Latexology, which covered when to use condoms and how to put them on. My favorite program was I Love Female Orgasm presented by two sex educators.
Victoria took a sip of her beer. “Don’t look now, but that guy at the end of the bar in the white button-down shirt is hot. And I mean hot.”
“Is he alone?” I asked.
Victoria licked her lips. “Seems to be. Wonder if he’d like company?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Jada said.
We watched as Victoria walked over and slid into the bar stool next to him.
“How much you want to bet we don’t see her the rest of the night?” Jada said.
Frankie pulled out her cellphone to check her messages. “I thought she was with Steve.”
“Only when she’s horny and doesn’t have anyone,” I said.
Frankie shook her head. “So it’s one of those we’re not going out any more; we’re just friends who sleep together situations?”
“Precisely. It works for her and it works for him.”
Jada sighed. “There’s not much action in here tonight. Let’s check out the bar down the street.”
“The biker bar?” Frankie asked.
Jada shrugged. “Why not? It might be fun.”
We finished our drinks and left for the biker bar. Victoria and White-Button-Down Shirt were eye banging like crazy and I figured it was only a matter of time before they left the bar and did the real thing.
Sunday, July 17
You’re reflective today, thinking about past relationships and what went wrong. You’re fantasizing about a former flame who you haven’t forgotten. Time to move on. Good things await. Tonight: Pamper yourself.
My first love broke my heart. I met him my sophomore year in college and I thought we’d be together forever. I dated a lot of guys in high school, but no one seriously. I think the longest I had a boyfriend was six months. But then I met Seth and my world turned upside down. We met at his fraternity’s Halloween party. I was dressed as Thing One and my bestie Jen was dressed as Thing Two. He was dressed as a vampire and he walked up behind me as I was waiting for beer. “I want to suck your blood,” he whispered. I turned around to find dark, sexy eyes staring back at me. It wasn’t long until we became a thing.
He was two years older than me and when he graduated from college, he took a job on the West Coast. We tried to make it work for a while, but the distance was just too great. And we were living in two different worlds. Mine revolved around exams and university life. Seth’s revolved around his engineering job. But I never forgot him. He was my first true love. And, yes, sometimes I do fantasize about him. He married a California girl and I haven’t seen him in years.
I sipped my coffee and read the news on my phone. I hate Sundays, mostly because I have to go to the laundromat. Talk about fantasizing, I think I fantasize about having a washer and dryer more than I fantasize about sex. I’m not sure what that says about me. That I like clean clothes better than I like sex? Dear God I hope not.
Maybe I’ll see the guy I noticed the other week for the first time. When I went to put my clothes in the dryer he’d just finished using, I found a pair of blue silk boxers. For a breath I thought about keeping them. I have a pair of gray paisley boxers I copped from Seth. They’re so comfortable. But I decided to ask tall, five o’clock shadow with a barbed wire tattoo on his bulging bicep if they were his. His face turned cherry red but he managed a smile (straight, white teeth – a plus) and thanked me.
I should’ve continued the conversation. The guy definitely had potential, and his boxers were as sexy as hell. They were soft and slipped through my fingers. I bet they felt great on.
Victoria interrupted my fantasizing when she called to give me the details about her night with White-Button-Down-Shirt. The cliff notes were: his name is David, he’s twenty-nine and single. He’s a mechanical engineer and relocated to the area recently because of his job.
“And he’s a sneaker head,” Victoria said.
“Really?”
“Big time. He told me how when the classic Air Jordan IIIs were rereleased he was the first in line at the store in the mall.”
“I never met a sneaker head before.”
“Neither have I, but David spends more money on one pair of sneakers than I spend on food in a month.”
“That’s some serious cash.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So what did you do after you left the bar?” I asked.
“We went back to his place and talked.”
“That’s it? Just talked?”
“And we kissed – a little.”
“Talked and kissed and nothing else?”
“Well.”
“You didn’t sleep with him, did you?” I asked. “God, Victoria. You just met him.”
“I know. I wasn’t going to but then it just sort of happened.”
“But it always just sort of happens with you.”
“Not true. I didn’t sleep with that guy I met last week.”
“The redhead?”
“Yes, I didn’t sleep with him.”
“Look, it’s none of my business who you sleep with,” I said. “I just don’t want you getting hurt. You give it up too easily. Remember, you get what you allow.”
“Can we change the subject?”
“I gotta go anyway. I need to go to the laundromat and then the store.”
“What are you doing later?”
“I’m going to pamper myself,” I said. “That’s what my horoscope advised so I’m going to take a long soak in the tub.
Victoria made a noise that sounded like a sick cow. “You and your stupid horoscope. How long are you going to follow that thing anyway?”
“It’s not stupid and I don’t know. Maybe forever.”
“God, Sydney, I hope not. There’s something to be said for spontaneity. You’re neurotic enough.”
I cleared my throat. “Well, someone has to worry about things.”
“But you worry too much.
“And you don’t worry at all.”
“Okay, then, it’s a draw,” Victoria said. “Have fun doing your laundry.”
When I walked into the laundromat, I scanned the room. My tall, five o’clock shadow with a barbed wire tattoo on his bulging bicep hottie