So my friends are at war over 'The Rocker' situation.
Hippie Chick doesn't want me to get too attached just yet. She wants me to stay single and play the field. Henny on the other hand? She loves the guy and wants me to go for it. As for me, well, we all know my opinions can't be trusted.
The next few days after my date with The Rocker I'm on cloud freaking nine. I had such a good time with him! He was sweet and funny and sexy and considerate. The Banter is still easy and free.
The other day he text me, "Kiss. Kiss. Kiss."
Being the ass that I am I replied, "Are you actually kissing your phone as you do that?"
Being the smart ass he is he replied, "No...Merely dry humping it..."
The guy doesn't play games. He texts me constantly. If he wants to send me a random compliment throughout the day...he does.
The other night I decided to look up his band. If he was going to audition for the band Hippie Chick manages I wanted to make sure he didn't suck. HC, HB and Mr. Boston were all in the kitchen hanging out. I went into the living room and sat down at Homeless Boyfriends desk. He has better speakers than me and a huge screen. I typed The Rockers band name into the search bar and got a ton of hits. Impressive. But not nearly as impressive as what I heard when I pushed play. The. Man. Can. Sing! I mean really sing. His tone and range is amazing! The band has sort of a classic rock, funk sound to them. His voice is an absolute dream.
"Hippie Chick!" I yell over to the crew in the kitchen. "You have to come in here and listen to this, now!"
She comes over and I start the track over. Her mouth drops open. "I am totally floored right now!" She says. "No way that's him!"
"Oh its him," I tell her. "Look, there's video here to."
I click over to some footage of them playing at The Cat Club. The man has stage presence! I'm dying! Swooning. I have a stupid dreamy look on my face that I can't shake...and honestly I don't care. I'm so glad that the first time I got to hear him was without him present. If I had been at the club that night they probably would've had to rip me off the guys leg.
"Seriously, I never would have thought he would be able to perform like this," Hippie Chick says. "I mean I don't get the front man vibe from him at all. He was so cool."
"I know," I agree with her. "Not once the other night did he pull out the, 'I'm a rockstar' card. I mean the guy has talent and he never tried to cash in on it with me."
"Yeah, he didn't give off the arrogant attitude you would expect from a guy who performs like this." Hippie Chick says, as she walks back to the kitchen to grab the boys so that they can listen to.
I pull out my phone and shoot him a text. "Seriously?! You hung out with me for like 12 hours and not once did you tell me how freaking good you are?...we just listened to a few tracks and um yeah. Hot."
He takes a few minutes to respond. Meanwhile I continue through his Youtube videos. The boys come in and listen for a while but than return to the kitchen and leave me to my online stalking.
I text again, "Yeah. Still listening. I'm totally floored right now....and now I'm stalking. I just found video. Your sooo not gonna live this one down lol..."
"Aw, you are melting me. Too kind," he finally responds. "Tho...Man...I can only imagine what you're finding...There's some bootlegged badness out there. Plus poorly edited shirtless garbage. Which is what I can only assume you are talking about."
"What?!," I exclaim. "Shirtless!? No, I didn't find those yet but thanks for the tip!"
I liked the guy (alot) before I heard his voice. But now? I'm head over heels. I couldn't wait to see him again! Luckily I didn't have to wait long. We chose Thursday night for our second date. The Rocker was leaving to Vegas Friday morning so he was squeezing me in before he left.
"What do you want to do? Dinner?" he texts me, making plans as usual.
Dinner doesn't sound appealing to me. I mean, I loved our first date. It was amazing. But there's something about dinners that make you feel like you need to be "on" all the time. I wanted to do something more social and fun. I call up Hippie Chick for ideas.
"The Roller Rink!" she tells me. We live one block from a roller rink. I have yet to check the place out. I get online to see what the haps are on a Thursday night. Perfect! It's R&B, and Oldies night. 25 and over.
"Do you roller skate?" I send him.
"Like a pro! No, but I do roller skate." He replies. This guy rocks.
"Well there's a rink by my house. I think its R&B and oldies Thursday night."
"Awesome!" He replies, genuinely excited. "Sounds great....Do you own roller skates?"
"No," I tell him. "It's been a while and I'm painfully clumsy so this should be interesting..."
"Don't worry. I will protect you on skates tomorrow. I'm like a swan on wheels," he says.
"You just called yourself I swan," I text him, being an ass. "Lesson number one, don't call yourself a swan..."
The Rocker and I had made a few jokes about him not knowing how to act around an attractive women a few days before. He had asked if I could teach him.
"Ok...Making my list:
1.)don't ask a woman if she wants dessert like a creeper.
2.)don't hum here comes the bride.
3.)don't call yourself a swan." he sends. I'm dying!
There is a part of me that hesitates with most men when it comes to my sarcasm. But with The Rocker I have no need for a filter. He takes everything in stride and more often than not shoots the shit right back at me.
"No, here comes the bride was awesome," I say letting him off the hook. "I plan on telling that story for years to come..."
Ok, not totally off the hook. That shit was funny!
"Fantastic...Arghhhhh..." he replies.
"Lol. Don't stress. It was funny. I like funny." I say.
I don't want him to be embarrassed. I loved it. It made me laugh. He makes me laugh. I like him. At this point the boy can do no wrong in my eyes.
"How could I stress?" He asks. "Honestly, I'm a little euphoric since Sunday. A little awestruck."
"Lol, ok are you being sarcastic?" I ask him, already knowing the answer.
"No. Not at all," he says. "Your great, and such a normal person! Hehe...that normal part was a joke, in the vain of the mildly attractive. I'm so awestruck that I'm just trying not to name the puppy so I put you back in my phone as Carrie. Cute little online stalker Carrie."
I laughed at this. When I'd first met The Rocker I told him my name was Carrie. After The Highlander I thought it would be safer if I used my Pen name for my online dating research. It was working out fine until I called him up exhausted one day and forgot to use my fake name when I left him a message. He called me back and the jig was up. I also told him how I never called the boys I dated by their real names. I used to make up nick names for boys long before WCC ever came to be. They said it best in the movie, The Sweetest Thing. Never name the puppy. If you name the puppy, you get attached to it and it's harder to give it up.
"Lol," I respond. "Just so you know, I've been calling you by your Actual name all week."
It's true. I've tried to call him, 'The Rocker', but it doesn't flow. There has been times in the past where I called a guy by his nickname so often that I've actually forgotten what his real name was. I had to put real names and nick names in my phone so that I wouldn't forget. But I couldn't do it with The Rocker. I use his name. If he's a puppy than I want that boy to be mine.
"That means I'm yours," He responds mirroring my thoughts.
You got that right bud.
Thursday night couldn't come soon enough. I dug through my closet trying to find the perfect roller skate out fit. I decided on a pair of dark high waisted bell bottom jeans with rainbow stitch on the pockets. I own a vintage powder blue v-neck tshirt with the word Splash across the front. I threw on my Members Only navy bomber jacket and my retro look was complete.
The Rocker had the same idea. He shows up in a white vintage tshirt with an Opus smiley face on the front. He is wearing a grey cable knit cardigan over it. No one was home at The Plex when he showed up so we took the opportunity to linger alone for a while. We decided to get on the computer so that he could share more of his music with me. He played me a few unpublished tracks from his email. It took everything I had to keep a straight face during this. Jumping on top of him at this moment seemed a little premature.
Hippie Chick and Homeless Boyfriend walk in after a few. Everyone shakes hands and we talk a little about The Rockers upcoming audition with HC's band. HC and HB head back into their room after a bit but not before Hippie Chick points out our matching attire.
"I love how you both are totally 70's out right now," she says smiling.
The second she says this The Rocker and I start dancing in our seats. It looks like we had it planned out. Hippie Chick tells me how hilarious it was the next day.
"That's normally the type of shit you see couples do after they've been together for a while. It's funny how in tune you two are already," she says to me.
It's getting late so we finally head off to the Roller Rink. It's raining out, so he pulls up as close to the door as possible. He turns off the car and looks at me. The scene is awesome. It's dark outside, the rain is falling on the roof of the car and blocking out our view out the window. He leans in and gives me our first kiss of the evening. Right before he touches my lips he says, "Your beautiful."
I know. Gay. But it's ok. I like it.
We pull away and head out into the rain. The Rink is located under ground. There's a set of stairs under the bowling Alley that leads to it. We get inside and see that there are double doors blocking the entrance. Apparently you have to pay and show your ID's before they will 'buzz' you in. Classic. The Rocker pays the fee and in we go. We head over and grab a couple pairs of skates and head over to the rink.
The whole place is an awesome blast from the past. The DJ is spinning some awesome tunes. There's a disco ball above what looks like a roller lounge in the middle of the rink. The walls have huge pictures of rollar skates with wings on them and an occasional rainbow colored Saturn. The crowd looks like they showed up in costume, but I know better. These people were here because they were the theme, not the other way around.
The Rocker and I are the only non-black skaters in the rink. I look over at him to see his reaction to this. I mean, I'm Puerto Rican, Mexican and Native American. I pretty much can fit in anywhere. For him, well he just looks like a cute white boy. To my pleasant surprise he is perfectly at ease. We get out onto the rink and he is just cruising. He is singing along to the oldies and socializing with the passerby's. The boy has soul.
It takes me a bit to get my roller feet back but I finally manage. I begin to jet ahead, enjoying the freedom only roller skates can bring. He cruises up next to me and says,"You totally look like Olivia Newton John right now."
I laugh. We're having a great time. The scene is a trip. There's this whole Roller skating sub culture that I had no idea existed. We pull off into the center 'lounge' to rest. Once inside I notice 3 older black men doing what looks like a freaking Whispers routine in the center. They are popping and rolling together creating a perfectly smooth funky dance. I think I sat there for 30 minutes watching them. Meanwhile we see a 30 something year old Mexican dude pull in. He has his hair pulled back into a ponytail and has a dark goatee on is chin. You can see tattoos on his forearms and at the base of his neck.
"Check out this Vato Loco dude," I say to The Rocker.
Vato pulls in and begins to dance a routine of his own. He starts spinning and leaping like he's on ice skates. Its the funniest shit ever! The man is popping up on his toes and spinning and actually does a pirouette!
I'm not sure how long we stayed out. A few hours maybe? Midnight rolls around and I tell The Rocker I'm ready to go. Not because I'm tired. I just want to make sure I get some quality make out time with my new Boo.
We head back out into the rain and drive back to The Plex. Everyone is in their rooms when we get back so I lead The Rocker to mine and shut the door. We both lay on the bed and I pull out a few of my photo albums to look through. That lasts about 5 whole minutes before he shoves them aside and pulls me into his arms.
We are locked in each others embrace for the next 2 and a half hours. Let me tell you, it was hot. If or when I decide to ever have sex with this guy, it is going to be off the hook. He's just so sensual! Not that I let him go very far. He remained as much of a gentleman as he could. No crotch grabbing for either one of us.
"This is seriously the longest I've ever made out with someone," he says to me. "Damn your a fucken good kisser..."
I hear this alot. I guess most people would have done the deed after the first 5 minutes of heavy petting. Not me. I enjoy this part. I love the making out and the wanting but not having. I'm not ready for sex so there is no temptation for me. I'm not holding back, I'm doing exactly what I want to at the moment. And I'm good at it. I've never had a guy tire of me. It's either the time or myself that has to pull the guy off of me and tell him makeout time is over.
I held it together pretty well as usual. That is up until he dropped the hot bomb on me.
We were spooning on the bed together. The Rocker was kissing along the back of my neck. We are both breathing heavily from the extended excitement. That's when he said it. Now, keep in mind people. It sort of takes a lot to get me off. I mean, like Hippie Chick says. I am the queen of self restraint. But his next sentence rocks my freaking celibate world.
"One of these days, I am going to fuck the shit out of you..." he breathes into me.
Hot. That was...Hot.
Oh my freaking god were those words hot!
I feel a shot of heat push through my whole body. I mean where do I even begin? First there is what he was doing when he said it...Breathing heavily into the back of my neck, arms wrapped around me, pelvis pushed into my ass. Second there's the way he said it. With such conviction. With such dominance. It was very clear that this is something that would be happening. And I believed him.
I've never been like this before. I'm West Coast Fucking Carrie for goodness sakes! I always keep my head. I'm always in charge. If not of the man, at the very least of my own feelings.
But this boys got me twisted. He's marked his territory. He's trained his homing pigeon. He's peed on my leg and now I know I belong to him.
He finally went home at around 2am. I don't know how I am going to be able to handle 3 whole days away from him? I'm obsessed.
Now I'm left with a dilemma. Do I tell him who I am? I want to. I don't want to hide anything from this guy. I don't want things to get serious and have him freak out if he finds out that I've been sharing our whole relationship with the masses.
I mean I don't feel like I'm doing anything wrong. I write about what people do to me, not what I do to them. The point of WCC is for me to be able to express myself completely and unfiltered without the consequences of my regular life. I say here what I can't say to the faces of the people who have done me wrong...or right.
I'm afraid. I don't want to scare him away. Part of me wants to keep hiding this so that I don't loose what could potentially be there between the two of us.
No. I have to tell him. It's the right thing to do. He deserves the choice. And I deserve someone who can care about all of me...that includes my bad ass alter ego, Carrie.
Don't worry dear reader. I'm still here. You won't loose Carrie. As long as Carrie doesn't loose him.
Who would have thought someone would have pulled a boomerang on my ass? Guess I finally met my match.
I've found my Cool Rider. Let's hope I can hold on.