The Great Outdoors

I am not a huge nature fan. Don't get me wrong, I love feeling rays of sunshine on my face and raindrops falling on my head. I am always in awe of giant trees standing tall and am speechless at some of the amazing sunsets I have seen across the wheatfields.

But...I am deathly afraid of serpents and they usually go hand in hand with nature. This is why I am not an avid hiker. Also why I did not pursue my kindergartner dream of growing up to be Ranger Rick. (How bad ass was that magazine, by the way?)

You may ask why I am talking about the great outdoors. What does this have to do with my misadventures in love? It just so happens one of my hottest, steamiest, salacious scandals happened in a backyard, the not-so-great-outdoors.

It also just so happens that this great victory in my quest to achieve non self-critical sexual encounters turned about to be a highly self-critical sexual encounter.

It happened one night. At a huge house party some friends were throwing for a combined birthday celebration. It, to date, is the most outrageous house party I have ever been to and probably the best one I have ever been to. It was a theme party, so everyone was encouraged to dress in Goodwill clothes. I threw together a Goodwill ensemble best described as white trash chic.

Before the party, I was hanging out with a friend and we were talking about how we both wanted to just make out with a random guy, not feel guilty about it, and never have to see this person again. We both had just had some disappointing boy endeavors, so this sounded perfect. Right before we went to the party we made a vow to seek out that fun and fancy free hook up.

Well, luck was on my side. Because when we arrived to the party there was a fair share of people I had never met, people who were just visiting some friends. Even better, some of them were uber cute. One even happened to be blue eyed and tall, my weakness.

So of course I proceeded to talk this individual up, with assistance from drinking a fair amount of alcohol.

Now, I would like to state something before this goes on. You may notice that in a lot of my sexual endeavors discussed on here, I note I was intoxicated. This may make you think, wow, what an booze hound. Which I guess in part my be correct, but there is more. I have a brain that is CONSTANTLY running. It yells extremely self-deprecating things at me. It makes me super cautious, extremely anxious, and highly critical. Sober me has a hard time being vulnerable, and I would say that doing sexual things is a highly vulnerable time. Not to mention, as previous posts have shown, I haven't had the best of luck when vulnerable between the sheets. It is horrible to admit this, but I do like to drink to let myself live a little. Be more daring. More confident.

Okay...so...I was feeling more daring, more confident with this guy. We were sitting on the porch together and we were turned toward each other, inches away. I leaned in and kissed him. He responded by kissing back. There were others on the porch, so I whispered, "Do you want to go out back?" He took my hand and led me out back.

Oh, was a I ever so glad he led me out back....

We started hardcore making out. Like, ravenous, hungry making out. He shoved me up against a fence and we kept making out. There might have been some other hanky panky, too, but I do not care to share details. Well, one of his friends came back to tell him he had to leave. So we kissed some more and we parted ways. I went back inside, sure that I looked composed and innocent. Not so much. One of my friends quickly asked me what I had been doing. I responded, nothing, but then she laughed and asked if that was why I had a huge hickey and my hair was super messed up. Well, after laughing at me, the boy walks back in the house. He states, I don't have to leave after all. He looks at me, walks back out, and I follow him for round 2.

Round 2 is too graphic for sharing. We did not have sex, but let it be known that I did wake up the next morning in a friend's bed alone with twigs in my hair and clothes, scratches all over my back from said twigs, and I looked like a hobo from the dirt found on my person. Let it also be known that I was fully satisfied.

This had been exactly what I wanted. I did not know him, would not see him again. It was hot and sexy and just...yum. I did not feel guilty or anything. I was a happy girl.

Until I got the Facebook message. Later that day I received a Facebook message from this guy. It basically said this: I am so sorry about last night. I am a Christian Man and I should not have done that to you, taken advantage of you in that way. I was drunk, too, but that is no excuse. I should have been protecting you from guys like me instead of doing that, putting you in a position where you compromised yourself. I NEVER do stuff like that and I hope you do not hate me or think ill of me. I am sorry that it happened and hope you forgive me.

So much for not feeling guilty.....

I just like this moment in my history because it is too funny. I want to hook up with a guy looking for no-strings fun only to find the ONE guy who is morally opposed to such a thing and obviously looks down on it. It is cliche, but it was just my luck.

That does not ruin this story for me though. It still ranks in my Top 5 Hottest Moments. I may blush about it, but I swear to Pikachu it was amazing.

Which brings me to this point. I think this serves to teach me a lesson. One, you never get something you really want if you go out and pursue it. Don't get me wrong, in some instances that is what is needed, but I think when it comes to love and sex, letting things come to you naturally and not forcing it is best. At least, for me it would appear that way. A great message being sent from "the universe" through irony and humor.

Also, I think Ranger Rick would have been proud of me, exploring and embracing nature that way. :)