As far as back as I can remember I never liked Valentine’s Day, I can’t remember not dreading it. From elementary school spending an inordinate amount of time writing out those stupid cards, I didn’t want to buy cards to support the day that I thought was stupid, yes even as a five-or-six-year-old, I was a curmudgeon with thoughts on capitalism, even if I didn’t know the word yet. Sharing the cards in school, I just wanted the day to end. A kid would rarely prefer learning math or spelling to getting to sit around sharing cards and getting candy, but I was one of them.
However, if I was in a relationship and the holiday came around, I’d decide this wasn’t a battle worth fighting and would attempt to equal my partner’s enthusiasm for the day, but always dreaded it.
Then I started dating Ray, short for Rachel but don’t call her that, who shared my antipathy for the holiday. We spent the first Valentine’s Day we were dating trying to find a video game that we were of roughly equal skill at. She kicked my ass in one; I kicked hers in another; we were of roughly equal skill in some of the anime-esque fighters but shared a mutual distaste for them. Eventually, we found that we could be competitive in one or two of the other. As such, we played one of those until our thumbs started hurting, switched to a movie or television program to recharge, then back to trying to kill one another in video games.
We didn’t even realize it was Valentine’s Day at first; it was just something we wanted to do.
Damn good times if you ask me.
Fast forward about six weeks to April, and we’re approaching my favorite holiday: Black Day[1] and feelings of worry come over me.
If you haven’t heard of Black Day, I’m not surprised. To my probably wrong understanding, it’s only celebrated in South Korea, but it combines three of my favorite things. See according to my, again probably wrong, understanding of East-Asian celebrations of the day, on Valentine’s Day, the chick gives the dude chocolate, then on White Day, March 14th, the dude gives the chick who gave him chocolate a gift or something. Then, a month later on April 14th, if you didn’t receive gifts on either of the previous two days, you eat soup and complain.
For many years, this combined three of my favorite things about being alive, being single, complaining, and soup, so of course it was my favorite holiday, and while I would enjoy being single, complaining, and eating soup many days of the year, as I liked soup, April 14th always felt special; and by always, I mean starting in like 2011 when I first read about the holiday.
Of course, April 14th felt special as well. For those in the USA, we will remember April 15th as the day your taxes are due. So April 14th is sometimes ‘Oh Fuck’ Day. Just as special if you ask me. Of course, I always finish my taxes early.
Look, if you’ve read almost anything else I’ve posted on this site, you can probably surmise I’m a bit of a weirdo. If this is the first thing you’ve read of mine, go read the other stuff, it’s pretty good, at least I think it is. I'd put links or something here but I can't figure out how, and I think you should finish this story first.
So it’s early April, Ray and I are relaxing in her kitchen with some tea, a little too late in the day for coffee, and Ray plays a small April Fool’s day prank on me, she had sabotaged the tea such that the leaves were loose from the bag, at this time unaware that I normally drank loose leaf, only made the tea in bags (re-usable canvas ones naturally) for her benefit.
“April Fools!” she practically shouted intermixed with laughter as I spat out some of the leaves.
I laughed for a moment, but then shouted “Fuck[0]!” startling Ray.
“What? What the fuck? It’s just tea leaves, you’ll be fine,” She sounded a bit upset.
“No, it’s not that, it’s just. It’s April, and things are going decently,” an understatement said with a facetious inflection, “which means I can’t celebrate my favorite holiday, maybe second favorite if you count FCBD.”
“What’s the holiday, and why can’t you celebrate it?”
I then explained Black Day, emphasizing that I was probably bastardizing the holiday. I got accused of cultural appropriation, which we both laughed off.
After a long pause before Ray said “We need to break up,” she spoke quickly, almost saying the phrase as one word. I probably looked shocked, “That holiday sounds awesome, and if we’re together we can’t celebrate it. Look we can try to reconcile afterward, but complaining, and soup? You’re a good guy and I like you Leon, but as much as I like complaining and soup? That’s a tough call. Now you’re telling me there’s a holiday that involves it. Come the fuck on, you should have seen this coming.”
Truth be told, I did see it coming. Truth be told, if I had planned it, the conversation would have gone exactly like this. I didn’t plan it, but the fact that things were going as they were made me almost wish I had. See, dating someone who didn’t think this was a good idea would mean we didn’t share the sort of absurd way of thinking I had. That would likely mean we weren’t compatible.
“I see,” I said, holding back a grin, “Well, to my understanding, there’s a side tradition of it where people go on blind or speed dates, y’know try to capitalize on that,” I trailed off hoping Ray would pick up where I was thinking.
Ray pulled out her phone, “Hold on a second, I want to verify that first,” she did a quick search for the holiday and saw that yes, speed dating or singles nights were part of it. “Okay, so we break up now and go on a blind date on the day? Is that what you’re thinking?”
I nodded, “Yes, but I think we should pretend to be strangers. We should also take this break-up seriously. If we decide to reconcile, it should be based on our pseudo-blind date. No communication.”
Ray pursed her lips for half a second before saying, “I agree. Now pack your shit and get the fuck out of my apartment, I never want to see you again!” failing to restrain laughter at each word.
I then proceeded to fake crying, clutching my chest, “I can’t believe you would say that, I thought we were going to be together forever.”
“Well you were wrong, now quit crying you wimp, and mail me my shit from your place; I don’t want to go over there and see you,” we were both laughing now.
I packed up everything I could fit in my backpack and briefcase and trudged out to my car, pretending to be sad the entire time. She followed me around, her arms crossed over her chest trying to look angry but utterly failing as I cleaned up.
I reached for a pair of her clean underwear and asked, “Can I at least take something to remember you by?”
“No,” she said sternly, “I don’t want your creepiness near any of my stuff. Get away from those you perv.”
The next two weeks passed without incident. We neither called, texted nor spoke to one another. This proved surprisingly easy, even without telling anyone else about our fake-up. We weren’t a couple that spoke or texted every day, to begin with, and we both had plenty of things to occupy our time.
April 14th came around I dressed to the nines, by which I mean I wore a clean t-shirt and jeans, and drove to the Ramen joint we had agreed upon at the agreed upon time. I saw that Ray had already gotten to a table and was looking at her watch angrily.
I walked over and said, “Hi, Rachel?” I extended my hand for a shake.
She frowned; I knew she hated being called Rachel, always Ray, but as this was a first date, I felt I needed to use her full name, “Leon? You’re late. and I go by Ray, not Rachel.”
I checked my watch, “I thought we agreed on 6:30?”
“We said 6:25,” she said defiantly, lying through her teeth.
“Sorry, I thought 6:30, anyway how’s it going?” I asked sitting down.
She sighed, “Alright I guess. I just got out of a sort of long relationship, it’s taken me a few weeks to get back into things but y’know how it is.”
This was almost word for word what she said when we first met, except that time it was for coffee, not soup. I was five minutes late that time, but it was because of traffic, and I got lost on the way there.
I shrugged, “Not really, most of my relationships don’t last particularly long, and I tend to bounce back pretty quickly.”
This was almost word-for-word how I replied when we first met. Not a great first impression, I know.
“Really? Why don’t things last well with you?”
I shrugged again, “Just a general sort of incompatibility I guess. It rarely takes too long to figure out I’m not a match for whomever I meet up with on those sites. Then no hard feelings,” do I need to say it?
“So does that mean I should start planning an escape?” She asked sarcastically.
“You don’t need to fake an escape, I take no offense if half an hour from now you say ‘fuck off and die’ walk out and leave me with the bill. We’re still strangers who met on the internet, and I’m not one to care what strangers on the internet think of me.”
“Wow, you’re just Teflon aren’t you?” she sighed, “I think we’re getting off on the wrong foot. Let’s start with you apologizing for being late.”
“Sorry, I got the times mixed up I guess. I could have sworn we said 6:30.”
“Look, it's fine, five minutes it happens. I was getting worried you were bailing. I’m also just kind of in a shitty mood, and it’s not fair to take it out on you.” She shook her head.
We continued to exchange pleasantries as though we were meeting for the first time before the real fun started, when we began complaining about our exes, as in, each other.
“So, the guy I was dating that I just broke up with? So annoying! If we played a game or something, he would never go easy on me. I mean if you’re a hardcore gamer you should go easy on the person you’re facing off with, and maybe even let them win,” she complained.
Except she regularly beat me in most titles I hadn’t become psychotically good at.
I shook my head sighing, “I know the feeling. My ex never let me pick the music whenever we were together. It sometimes drove me up the damn walls.”
Except, my taste in music was painfully limited, electric guitar-driven indie rock, while Ray had a much larger breadth of knowledge and wanted to introduce me to new stuff, which was by my request.
“Also, my ex, rarely cooked, and even when he did, it was the same three things; I got kind of sick of it.”
Except, I was really good at making those three things, but terrible at almost everything else that required more than one bowl/pot; no matter how hard I tried (and still try) I’m bad at cooking. Also, Ray loved cooking and was typically happy that I could help out with basic tasks.
“Plus his taste in décor was terrible. All these posters, it was ridiculous,” she continued to complain between mouthfuls of soup.
Except, my posters are awesome; I will hear no argument to the contrary, and most are autographed by the artist to me.
“I can’t really imagine both of those,” I confessed.
We ordered our soups, splitting the check since it was a blind first date, and continued our complaints about each other in the silly manner above. Though the conversation changed once our meals arrived to the semi-normal borderline nonsensical conversations Ray and I would have as normal. These included things like who would win in a Battle Royale between Bonds (I said Dalton, her Craig,) how many bee stings it would take to kill an adolescent elephant (a lot), and if a Dragon could beat Cthulhu.
I’ll spare you those conversations.
“I had a lot of fun tonight and I’d like to see you again. I’m kind of busy next week, how do you want to handle it?” I asked.
Ray pursed her lips, “Me too, but I’m thinking a bit sooner.”
I cocked my head, “How much sooner?”
Ray smiled wickedly, “I was thinking about thirty-five minutes at my place. I’ll text you the address.” She jabbed a finger into my chest, “Don’t be late.”
If I were into BDSM, I’d probably be deliberately late, but I’m not, I share that because the thought occurred to me on my way to my car from the restaurant. I could probably have gotten to her place in around fifteen-twenty minutes, but in keeping with the blind date/first meeting role-play, I opted to swing by a pharmacy for contraceptives, we had stopped using them a while ago.
Despite the diversion to the pharmacy, I still managed to make the trip in less than thirty minutes. I parked, still having the guest pass for her building, and rang the doorbell. I was buzzed in almost immediately and began to start towards her apartment, and knocked on the door.
“It’s open,” she called from inside, and I let myself in, locking the door behind me.
“Ray?” I asked unsure of where she was.
“Bedroom,” she called out.
I walked over and saw the door closed, so I opted to knock.
“Shit, come on in,” she said.
I opened the door and saw she was mid-changing, she still had on her undershirt, bra, and pants, “Do uh,” I struggled to find words.
She sighed, “No, I was just planning on changing into something a bit sexier, you got here a bit earlier than I expected, I feel like I hit every red light from the restaurant here. Plus I was expecting you to be late.”
“Do you want me to wait a bit?” I asked, I’m pretty patient when it comes to most things.
“Nah, we’ve gone two weeks, and I’m really fucking horny, plus I was just going to remove it all.”
I cocked my head, “What are you talking about two weeks? We met just a couple of hours ago.”
Ray chuckled, “Right, oh I meant, oh it doesn’t matter,” she began to remove her jeans, she had opted for women’s this time, though she usually wore men’s since she liked having pockets, I found out later it was for the blind date, I didn’t remember that she had worn women’s clothing when we first met in person, but wouldn’t have noticed now if it hadn’t been pointed out to me. Fashion just doesn’t interest me.
She tossed her jeans into a nearby hamper, followed by her undershirt. She stared at me in her bra and panties, “Well?” She asked expectantly.
“Sorry, just admiring the view, your ass looks like I could bounce a coin off of it, and your boobs, are just magnificent, I’m almost speechless,” an involuntary and almost certainly goofy-looking grin took over my face.
Ray shook her head in frustration, “While I appreciate the compliment,” she paused and rubbed her forehead and brow, “work with me here Leon.”
I started taking off my shirt and looked around for where to place it, opting for a chair in the corner, “Normally I don’t hop into bed with someone the first day I meet them, but for some reason, I’m unable to say no to you.”
“The hamper Leon, not the chair, come on,” she said frustrated.
“The hamper?” I raised a quizzical eyebrow while removing my jeans, “are you going to do laundry in the morning? Oh god, you’re going to keep me here as a slave, stealing my clothing so I can’t leave and keep me chained in the closet, only allowing me to move for your pleasure, slowly starving me to death, then you’ll dispose of my body in the Susquehanna[2] River, making sure to travel at least three states away, then toss me into the river, making sure to weigh me down with non-metallic substances, but also coating me in something to attract the fish to incite them to devour my flesh.” I started rapidly gathering my clothing, my jeans around my ankles.
Ray darted over to me, grabbing my arm she said, “That’s right, but you know too much. I have no choice but to let you have your way with me in exchange for your silence, allowing me to continue my fiendish, diabolical, and systematic practice of seduction, sex, and murder.
I wrenched my arm free and kicked off my jeans from around my ankles, leaving myself in just my underwear, “Neat, I’ve always wanted to have sex with a killer. Am I staying the night?”
“Depends, if you’ve got a good dick and are good in bed, then probably, but if you’re not good, I’m kicking you out,” She said flatly.
“There have been some complaints about my performance in the past,” I said truthfully.
Ray face-palmed, “Oy vey Leon”, she said walking over to kiss me.
I would have smiled if she hadn’t kissed me, ‘oy vey’ was one of several phrases I introduced to Ray, and it always made me happy to hear her use them.
Feeling her lips against mine made me realize how much I had missed it. I had gone years without kissing in the past without missing or caring, but as her tongue teased my lower lip, a profound warmth, and contentedness coursed through me, followed by lust and desire. I wanted her more than I wanted my next breath.
She wrapped her arms around my neck while I put mine below her ass. I broke the kiss to lift her up, she gasped in shock at the sudden lift before giggling a bit. She wrapped her legs around my hips, taking a bit of the weight off my shoulders and back before pushing her onto the bed, covering her body with my own we kissed again feverishly, my lips crushing hers.
I broke the kiss and lifted myself up from being close to on top of her. Ray sat up and fidgeted with her bra behind her back before getting frustrated, slipping the shoulder straps down and turning it around so the buckle was in front of her.
“It’s not really sexy to do it this way isn’t it?” She said shaking her head before tossing her bra to the side.
“The sexy thing is who’s doing it, not how it’s done; and if you’ll forgive me for breaking character for a moment, I don’t think there’s anyone taking her bra off any way that would be sexier than what you just did.” Most of the time I make jokes, but every so often I get romantic.
Ray smiled and looked away bashfully for a moment, “Jesus fucking Christ, every so often you’ll say something that gets me all mushy down there and in here,” she clasped her hands over her heart, “and I’ll be reminded of why I put up with the rest of your nonsense.”
“Yeah well move your hands, you’re blocking the view of them titties,” I said sternly, trying to sound intimidating and utterly failing.
She dropped her arms to her sides, “Like that, and now you’ve ruined it.” She licked her hand and slipped it under the waistband of her panties, then withdrew it, “Okay maybe the good line still worked just enough.”
I mimicked her action of licking my hand and slipping it below the waistband of my shorts, “Well them titties is certainly getting’ me goin’ you ready to rock?[3]” A pregnant pause: “If I ever do that again, fucking shoot me. I’m willing to sign something and get it notarized saying if I do that again, it means I’ve lost my goddamn mind and need to be euthanized.”
“Look this banter has been fun and all,” she started slipping her panties down in an entirely utilitarian manner, no titillation, all function no form, “but if we don’t actually start this, we’re gonna have problems, so get your dick out and let’s go.”
“As my lady commands,” I removed my shorts and stepped out of them, fully erect; I hadn’t been lying when I said her taking her bra off had been the sexiest thing I had seen and started moving towards the bed, kissing her again.
As we kissed, she reached between us and gently started jerking me off.
[4]
I gasped in pleasure, the mixed sensations of not seeing her for two weeks, her gentle touch on my member, her mouth on mine, and the sight of her apartment sent a euphoric thrill through my being.
I broke the kiss and we stared into each other’s eyes – hers amber, mine a green-gold that I don’t know the name from. She nodded slightly and the sound of our heavy breathing seemed to mix together, unsure of whose breath was whose.
I bit my lip and with Ray’s hand guiding me teased the entrance to her pussy, the tip barely touching her, rubbing up and down the entrance.
I felt like we were mutually teasing one another for hours, despite it probably only lasting a few seconds before I slid inside her to the root of my dick. Her pussy felt almost supernaturally slick. I stayed inside her not moving for a moment, just enjoying the warmth and first penetration.
“God I missed this,” whispered Ray, her eyes half-lidded, “I didn’t realize it until now,” she smiled.
“I know, I- during the two weeks, I felt like I could go a century, but now I don’t know the words,” I whispered as well, simultaneously not wanting to move a millimeter, but also wanting to move. I think I trembled inside her, at least my arms were trembling next to her.
“Poo-tee-weet, Leon,” Ray offered in a breathy whisper.
A bastardization of the original meaning (or perhaps lack thereof), ‘poo-tee-weet’ to us meant ‘there is no intelligent way to describe this, it defies language, vernacular, and conventional understanding and discussion,’ for us used both positively and negatively[5].
I began moving, incredibly slowly at first. I wanted to savor the completion of the first thrust. I wanted to feel every millimeter of her pussy that I could with every millimeter of my penis that I could. I wanted to sear it into my memory, as though I could recreate it as a sex toy for myself through feeling alone. The velvety texture, the level of wetness, I wanted to know it all intimately.
When I had withdrawn to the point where just my tip was teasing her entrance again, I wanted to hold it for a moment, but lust and desire overcame me and I thrust inside her with all the vigor I could muster.
“Fuck!” shouted Ray, apparently not expecting the increase in the tempo of my thrusts, as I was down to the root of my cock, feeling the pleasure and warmth throughout me. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and panted slightly, “That feels really good, but take it a bit slower, let’s make it last.”
I nodded and began rolling my hips thrusting in and out of her, mutual pleasure shuddering through us both.
After a few minutes of thrusting, Ray began lifting her hips up off the bed to meet my thrusts, and pull away as I pulled out. The new friction somehow increased pleasure beyond what I had thought previously possible.
Each thrust and each movement sent sensations throughout my body, warmth, and pleasure not restricted to my penis and brain, but seemingly to every fiber of my being.
I felt like I was about to cum with every thrust, yet somehow, someway I held off. If I knew the secret to repeating this, to bringing myself to the edge of orgasm and staying there without teasing myself, without pausing my motions.
We were both whispering and moaning incoherent babble, seldom breaking eye contact. Suddenly, I felt a shuddering spasm as Ray orgasmed beneath me, her eyes tightly shut, body trembling, and head shaking. Her arms fell from my back, spread eagle on the bed as she continued to breathe heavily.
“Give me a minute, don’t move, I don’t think I could handle it. Let me catch my breath,” She said, panting between worlds.
“I’m really close,” I muttered, “I don’t think I’ll last more than another minute or so,” I said, my eyes pleading, as though if I stopped at that moment, I would die.
“Okay, just, be gentle, I’m still really sensitive.”
I nodded and slowed my movements, but true to my words, I was only able to last a scant handful of motions before I came, spilling my cum inside her pussy. I pulled out and flopped over, beside her, both of us still trying to catch our breath.
“Shit,” I murmured, “I finished inside.”
“You’ve been doing that for months? What’s the problem?”
I smiled, “I was planning on keeping up the pretending we’re meeting for the first time thing and using a condom, just to really lend authenticity to the experience.”
Ray rolled to her side, propped up on her arm to face me, “you were going to make sex less fun, for the sake of a joke we abandoned a minute and a half after you walked in? I commend the dedication to the bit, but there are things that need to be sacrificed. I couldn’t keep it up and kept forgetting, and so did you.”
I turned to face her, “I know, but fuck, I don’t know, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Well, what feels like a good idea is putting on a pot of chamomile and watching a movie together. I’m feeling horror right now, does that work for you?”
I nodded, “I’ll pick the movie; you put on the pot of tea.”
We finished the night watching the movie on her bed, before falling asleep with one another. I woke up early and left, leaving no note, as I hoped to be back before she woke up.
Somehow, I managed to and opened the door and shouted, “What up? Guess who brought bagels and coffee?”
Ray groaned from her bedroom and stirred sitting up, and slowly putting on a shirt, “if you had woken me up without bagels and coffee, I would have gutted you like a goddamn fish. Hell, I still might if you got the wrong type of bagels, it’s fucking early.”
Suffice it to say, I bought the right type of bagels.
-==-
[0] Originally this was FUCK, all caps, but a forum post from Sprite convinced me not to do that.
[1] I always pronounced it silly, like Blech-Daaayyyy.
[2] I have no idea how to pronounce the name of that river, so I probably said it like “Su-su-quee-hannah”
[3] If it wasn't obvious, I'm using (bad) humor as a defense mechanism,
[4] If this were strictly comedy, I’d say I ejaculated immediately at her touch, rolled off asking if it was as good for her as it was for me before falling asleep. Then I’d probably cut to the third person and have her strangling me. I feel the need to add that since there are a lot of jokes in this story, as I make a lot of jokes in real life, but not here. If the alternate-ending feature were still in effect, I’d use it as well, Ain't I a stinker?
[5] She started using the phrase and I adopted it from her. You didn't think introducing one another to favorite turns of phrase was a one-way street, did you?
