#most of the time we're hanging out on the balcony while they smoke up

[thedreadvampy]

I fucking love my friend!!!!!!!

[over-dramatic-diary]

the first time i knew i was in love.

I really enjoyed the format of telling y'all a story from my life that defines me as a person. So we're gonna do that again. I give you, the first time I knew I was in love.

I was seeing this young man who we'll call Spencer. So I had been seeing him for about two months, though we had recently decided to only be friends because his mental health was not the best at the moment, and he didn't want to cause himself much else to worry about for that time. But we never were only friends. We kissed and talked deeply, and told each other things we probably shouldn't have. In the end, on the night of his birthday, I had tried to plan a little board game night, but it had been last minute enough that he and I were the only attendees.

So we played stupid games, drank more than we should have for a Tuesday night, and skipped over to a friend's apartment for a brief birthday smoke session. After, we got Canes, where he got a large sweet tea and then proceeded to spill all over his living room. We watched the both most idiotic and funniest sitcom of all time. In the end, we were playing my family's somewhat stupid secret card game, and decided to play Two Truths and a Lie. We got down into the game, and my options were as follows:

I cannot count how many cousins I have on two hands

I broke my spine because I fell off the playground age 8

I've never been in love.

Was the final option somewhat leading? You bet your ass it was. But I believed it to be true. But, as I was getting ready to head home for the night around 1 am, I stood up, Spencer kissed me, and I stopped before heading to the door. I looked at him and told him that I might have fibbed a bit that night. When he asked what I meant, I responded as such:

"I fibbed when I said I've never been in love. Because I think I'm a little in love with you."

I meant it, too. I thought I was falling in love with him.

He kissed me again, and said "Let's leave it at that for tonight." And so I left.

The next day, we had work late together and Spencer asked if I wanted to go to his apartment and watch some tv after rehearsal and just hang out. I swear on the stars, I didn't think anything would come of this hangout other than maybe a short makeout session, and talking. Boy, was I wrong.

We go to his apartment and continue on the aforementioned dumbass tv show. We watch an entire season, and then we start bouncing back and forth cueing up and playing songs that we would show to an alien if they asked us what human music was like. I played Dreams by Fleetwood Mac and You Matter to Me from Waitress. Spencer played Hallucinogenics by Matt Maeson and Lana Del Rey.

I heard a thundercrack outside the window. I check from his balcony, and it was pouring, and the weather app says it's not stopping for hours. I was planning on walking the two blocks back to mine, so I ask him if I could sleep on his couch. He says sure, so we go back to music and stupid videos. I realize something a little while later:

He doesn't have a couch. He has a loveseat. And I am either stoned or bold enough to remark out loud that I just realized that I probably couldn't sleep on his couch. He looks me dead in my eyes and says "Oh. We both know you're sleeping in my bed."

DEAR LORD. I didn't know a man could make me feel so looked at. He gives me sweatpants to wear, and I take my earrings out as he puts on one last episode. He turns the tv off and heads into his bedroom. He takes off his shirt. Then his pants. That's when I knew I would be learning more about Spencer than I thought he would let me.

We get into bed. We kiss. Spencer asks how far I wanna go, and I tell him I want to go his speed, as far and as slow as he wants to. Soon though, there isn't a single layer of fabric between us. We spend the entire night tossing and turning, taking breaks to talk. That man told me things in his bed that I will take to my grave. I shall say no more on the subject, except that we only got about three hours of sleep that night.

It was the first time I had ever made love or spent the night in another man's bed.

I woke up the next morning, and we agreed to hit snooze for five more minutes. I lay my head across his chest, and we hold hands before either of us is fully conscious. Soon, I pick up my head, lean on my elbow, and stroke his chest gently to wake him fully. He turns his head to me, and just as he opens his eyes, he moves them into a shaft of early morning sunlight coming through his blinds.

This is the moment I knew I was in love. Fully and truly and indubitably. I knew because his normally dark and bottomless eyes were suddenly the most intense hue of gold that I had ever seen. It was not a color or a shade or a tint. This gold was far too piercing and sparkling to be anything but its purest form. I will never forget the way they both looked and looked at me.

I am feeling nostalgic and reflective tonight, and I thank you for listening to it.

Goodnight loves.

- Jackson