A Year to Remember

by Shelly Bell

  Plus, he was really stupid.

  “I’m sorry, Ryan. It’s not just that you’re a stripper. It’s that you lied about it. I wish you the best.” I walked out of the private room and back to the table.

  “How was it?” asked Jill.

  “Worth every penny,” I lied and glanced at Missy, who said, “It’s getting late. I think Sara and I are going to take off.”

  We gave the girls our hugs of goodbye and I scanned the room for Ryan. He was giving a table dance, but he caught my eye and gave me a half smile. I did the same.

  Missy and I drove back to Detroit, listening to the radio, neither one of us willing to speak.

  “At least now that you’re only dating Caleb, you can have sex.”

  She didn’t sound very happy about that prospect. I don’t think she wanted me with Caleb, but she’d never say it to my face. Lately, she’s been big on me trying to make my own decisions on men, choosing to stay silent on the matter.

  “You’re right. We do have a date tomorrow. We were going to go see a movie, but maybe I can entice him to changing our plans to staying in.” My mind started considering all the possibilities. Now that the decision to date only Caleb had been made for me, a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I wanted to concentrate on making the most out of my relationship with Caleb and that including making love.

  “Are you sure you really want to sleep with Caleb? You never seemed that into him.”

  “That’s true, but you’re the one who suggested sex with him may change my mind,” I reminded her.

  “I said that? What the hell was I thinking?”

  “Thanks for everything, Missy. If you weren’t there tonight, I would have fallen apart.”

  “You know I’m always here for you. No matter what, we’re best friends forever, right?” she said.

  “Best friends, forever,” I repeated.

  CHAPTER 16

  A Year to Remember Blog

  Sara Friedman’s journey to find her soul mate

  May 20, 2012 People Come and Go So Quickly Here!

  I’m tired of the revolving door of men in my life. I meet someone, get to know them, only to have to say goodbye before the waiter even brings the check.

  I didn’t anticipate dating would be so exhausting. I spend so much time reading through profiles, asking and answering questions, choosing appropriate wardrobe (thanks, Missy!), and spending more money than I have, all for the purpose of meeting someone I’ll know for approximately thirty minutes. When did dating become a career? While I used to spend my spare time relaxing and reading literature (okay, a romance novel), now I sort through e-mails.

  Guys, let me tell you this. If you ask me out because you think you’ll end up on television, you’re sadly mistaken. I can tell you’re only interested because of the notoriety, not because you think I have the potential of being your soul mate. I don’t want to give you any hints, but let’s just say, all I have to do is read your profile. When you state you want a thin woman under the age of twenty-five, I can reasonably deduce I’m not your type. That’s okay, because you’re not my type, either!

  It’s the lying that really upsets me. You lie about your height, your age, your marital status, and your job. I don’t care what you do for a living (assuming you’re not a hit man for the mafia). I do care if you lie to me about it. After all, relationships are supposed to be built on trust. If we don’t have trust from the start, then every beautiful moment has been built on a shaky foundation and it’s bound to come crashing down around our feet.

  It’s with great pleasure I announce I am cutting the power to the revolving door. I’ll be using one door from now on. For those of you who are confused by my metaphor, I’ll explain it in layman terms. I am dating one man exclusively. His name is Caleb and in the few months I’ve known him, he’s never lied to me once. We’ve already begun to build our solid foundation and I’m ready to start building on top of it.

  My commitment to Caleb means I’ll be discontinuing my membership to JDate, and I’ve already requested a refund from the dating agency. All evidence to the contrary, I’m a private person. I don’t intend on blogging the personal nature of our relationship. I promise to update you on our status and let you know when we take our relationship to the next level. I have a feeling it will be soon!

  CHAPTER 17

  MAY 20, 2012

  DETROIT, MICHIGAN

  WEIGHT: 180

  STATUS: COMMITTED

  Today I planned on seducing Caleb into my bed. I called him this morning and told him because of my late night out with the girls, I was too tired to go out anywhere tonight. He started to suggest that we cancel our date so I could get rest, but I wouldn’t let him. I proposed he bring over some Chinese food and we could rent a movie from On Demand. After a few minutes, he relented and agreed to spend the night in with me.

  I spent two hours getting ready for my big seduction. First and most importantly, I needed to get myself prepared.

  I took a long hot shower in which I exfoliated my skin, shaved the various parts of my body, and deep conditioned my hair. Then after I dried off, I polished my toenails and rubbed lotion into my skin for hydration. I pulled my hair back in a low ponytail to expose the erogenous zones of my neck, where I placed a touch of Shalimar perfume.

  I didn’t want to dress too provocatively, because I didn’t want him to guess I had sex on the brain when I invited him over. I settled on tight black stretch pants, tank top, and cardigan. It didn’t scream sexy, but it looked good nonetheless.

  I changed the sheets of my bed and pulled down the comforter a bit to help us effortlessly slide under the covers. I double-checked I had enough condoms for our evening and they hadn’t expired. Then I chilled a bottle of white wine to go with our Chinese food.

  With an hour to go before our date, I called Missy for moral support. She didn’t answer and I remembered she was babysitting. I’m sure her hands were too full to answer my call.

  I checked my email, Facebook, and Twitter accounts to keep myself occupied while I waited. I discovered Demi and Ashton were planning a romantic evening and another one of my television shows was in danger of cancellation. I spent the remaining time playing solitaire on my computer.

  The knock on my door caused my heart to race and my palms to sweat. But as soon as I laid eyes on him, all my fears disappeared.

  I never had to worry around Caleb. He was the most dependable, sweet, and caring individual I had ever met. He always showed up on time. He never forgot his wallet. He always made me feel as though I was the most important woman in the world to him.

  It feels good to be wanted.

  “I hope you’re hungry, because I brought a lot of food.”

  That’s another thing I love about Caleb. He’s oblivious to my weight and makes it a point to state he thinks diets are worthless. It’s not that he prefers heavyset women. By now, I’ve determined the type of women that attract Caleb. He desires women with dark hair, curves, and big chests, like me and Catherine Zeta Jones. I recall he’s wanted me since he saw my picture at my brother’s old apartment, in which I was seventy pounds heavier than now.

  With Caleb, I don’t have my normal feelings of inadequacy over my body I tend to have with guys. I’m not concerned my soft flesh and extra rolls of fat will disgust him. Not that I don’t have some fears about him seeing me naked. It’s just I know he’ll accept and like me just the way I am.

  “Everything smells really good. Including you,” I flirted as I gave him a kiss on his cheek.

  “Do you have a movie in mind?”

  Actually, I hoped we’d never get to the movie, but he obviously had other ideas.

  “Why don’t we get a couple of forks and eat out of the containers on the couch,” I suggested. He didn’t seem to like my idea, but he agreed to it anyway.

  We settled on watching the last Harry Potter movie even though both of us had already seen it. I didn’t want him focusing on the movie and if he hadn’t s
een it, he’d want to watch the whole thing without interruption. I planned on a major interruption.

  I thought it would be romantic to eat out of the containers and attempted to feed him bites of the dishes. Instead of romantic, it was really, really messy. We got pieces of rice stuck to the couch and noodles fell on the floor. As we drank the wine, we cared less and less about the state of my condo and more and more about each other.

  It started with me moving into him so our thighs touched. Then I rubbed my naked foot up his calf and under his pants. Even though he kept his eyes on the film, his breathing grew deeper and faster, indicating his arousal. He took my hand and brushed his thumb over it, drawing circles with his fingertips. Just that innocent touch made me ache for more.

  The movie now forgotten, Caleb and I began kissing. His hand found its way under my shirt as he caressed my breast over my bra, the first time we had gotten to second base since we had started dating.

  I pulled out of the kiss. “Do you want to move to the bedroom?”

  “Are you sure you’re ready? I’ll understand if you want to wait.” He touched my cheek with the back of his hand.

  I shook my head. “No more waiting. I want this. I want to make love with you.”

  He smiled, then gathered me in his arms as we stood from the couch. We kissed all the way to my bedroom, where we fell on the bed and laughed.

  I couldn’t help but think I would always remember this moment. The first time the man I would spend the rest of my life with and I made love.

  Maybe I put too much pressure on myself or had too high of expectations. Whatever it was, it didn’t quite turn out the way I had planned.

  Caleb and I removed our shirts first. I left my lacy red bra on for him to unclasp. But he didn’t. Instead, he lifted it, so my breasts spilled out. It could have been sexy, but it wasn’t. It came off as lazy. Plus, the bra started digging into my back. I sat up to unhook it myself while he waited.

  With full access, he had no idea what to do with them. He kneaded my breasts like he was rolling out dough to make bread and squeezed them hard. He finally touched my nipples, only to tweak them between his thumb and forefinger. The more he touched me, the less I wanted his touch. I tried to show him what I wanted, taking his hand and mimicking the way I enjoy to be touched, but after a few seconds, he reverted back to his old way.

  Trying to save our experience, I decided to be bold and asked him to take my nipples in his mouth. He obliged me by flicking his tongue over each nipple once and then biting it. Then he took my hand and put it down his pants. Apparently, he had taken my nipple request as the right to demand his desires. His eyes practically rolled back in his head as he told me to grip his cock harder.

  He took off his pants and asked me for a condom. I almost took the opportunity to stop, to lie and tell him I didn’t have a condom. But I just couldn’t do it. Instead, I gave him a condom from my nightstand drawer and took off my own pants. He stared at my naked body while he put his condom on.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

  He got on top of me. His hand dipped down to find entrance and he shoved his fingers inside of me. I spread myself open to him and he put himself inside of me. I didn’t feel any difference between his finger and his penis. I hadn’t gotten a good peek at him, but I gathered Caleb was a bit on the small side. He thrust in and out about five times before his body started shaking like he was having an epileptic seizure and he loudly groaned. He rolled off of me, and I wanted to run out of the room in horror.

  “That was amazing. You’re amazing,” he said, trying to catch his breath. The guy ran every day, but five thrusts and he was out of breath.

  “Mmm...” I replied, not knowing what to say.

  “Was it good for you?”

  “I didn’t come.” That should have been obvious to him.

  “Most women don’t come during sex. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “I’m not ashamed!” Sexually unsatisfied perhaps, but definitely not ashamed.

  “You know there are other ways to give a girl an orgasm,” I hinted.

  He instantly appeared uncomfortable. “I’m not really into the whole oral sex thing.”

  “Me, you, or both?” I asked, suddenly dismayed about my prospects in receiving an orgasm tonight.

  “Well obviously I wouldn’t turn down a blowjob. I mean, what guy wouldn’t want a girl to take him into her mouth?”

  At least he didn’t seem uncomfortable talking about it with me. That was a good sign, right?

  “But you won’t go down on a woman?”

  He shuddered in disgust. “No.”

  “Can I ask why not?”

  He didn’t seem to want to answer my question as he sat up and turned away from me.

  “I’ve done it a few times throughout the years. Every time I hoped I’d enjoy it, but no matter what, I found it unappealing. You know ... the whole smell and taste thing.”

  “I don’t smell!”

  “I’m sure you don’t, Sara. Maybe someday I’ll change my mind. Right now, I’m not into it.”

  “If I can’t come from sex and you won’t go down on me, how am I supposed to have an orgasm?”

  “It’s not important that you had an orgasm. The important thing is we shared intimacy. We connected, and it was beautiful. I love you, Sara.”

  All my anger disappeared. He loved me! If he loved me, a short engagement would soon follow, leading to marriage before thirty. After all, he knew we were on a strict timeline!

  “I love you, too.”

  I didn’t love him, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings by not saying it back to him. I had only known him for such a short time and I’ve been dating other men, so how could I be in love with him? Now that we’re officially a couple, I was certain I’d fall in love with him.

  After all, Caleb had all the qualities I sought in a husband. He exuded warmth and intelligence. So, he lacked sexual prowess in the sack. We could work on the problems in the bedroom.

  Caleb and I shared goals. We both wanted to get married and start a family. We had grown up watching our parents’ relationships persevere through the hard times, not succumbing to adultery or divorce as many of our friends’ parents had. We both declared ourselves as moderate democrats, socially liberal, but economically conservative.

  The sticking point could be the difference in our religions. Caleb had been brought up Catholic, but no longer associated himself with the church. In fact, he had said he hadn’t been to church since he moved out of his parents’ house more than ten years ago. I, on the other hand, considered myself to be a practicing Jew. While I didn’t currently spend my money to belong to a synagogue, I attended on the High Holidays like Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur with my folks.

  When I had hinted to Caleb about the potential for problems in our religions, he had always pointed out since I was more religious, my beliefs would prevail. As much as I loved someone, I couldn’t marry them if they denied me the right to raise my children Jewish. Besides, Jewish law states the children take the religion of the mother over the father. Our children would be born and raised Jewish.

  Considering he had only said “I love you” and hadn’t proposed marriage, our religions hardly seemed relevant at this point in our relationship. If or when we got engaged, we would have to have a deeper conversation about our religious convictions as it pertains to our children.

  Now, I just wanted to bask in the afterglow of those glorious words.

  I love you.

  Three little words with big meaning. They could change my world forever.

  The rest of the night, Caleb and I cuddled in bed hugging and kissing. Luckily, he didn’t seem to want to have sex again. I needed to get some advice about how to approach him about what I needed in the lovemaking department.

  I knew just the girls to ask.

  CHAPTER 18

  MAY 24, 2012

  DETROIT, MICHIGAN

  WEIGHT: 183

  STATU
S: COMMITTED

  Once a month, I met with Missy and a few of her lesbian friends to play Drag Queen Bingo. The gift shop/coffee house was located in a city known for its acceptance of alternative lifestyles. Missy and I had discovered it a couple years ago one night, when we stumbled into the store to get out of the rain. A drag queen stood in front of the room holding a large microphone, while men and women sat at small tables with their smoothies and bingo cards.

  Part comedian, the drag queen introduced herself as Martha and asked if we liked to be on the bottom or the top. My jaw hit the floor, but Missy had a quick tongue and told Martha she preferred to be in the middle. Martha invited us to sit and join the game. We’d been coming ever since, first just Missy and me, and then her lesbian friends Ashley, Caitlin, and Nina joined our monthly ritual.

  It had taken me a while before I became friends with the girls. They had a secret way of dealing with each other which made me feel like I’d never be part of their inner circle. Like I had as a child, I felt like I was on the outside looking in. Finally, I told them how I felt. I worried they’d be insulted or they’d admit they didn’t like me. Instead, they told me they hadn’t intended to make me feel like I didn’t belong. They just didn’t know if I’d be offended with their frank and explicit dialogues about sex. Once I told them they wouldn’t affront my delicate sensibilities, they started to include me in on their secret conversations.

  All of them were practicing lesbians. Extremely practicing. They told me about things that I believed only occurred in porn videos.

  Pink-haired Nina actually classified herself as bisexual, although the majority of her relationships were with women. She liked to participate in an occasional threesome.