So here I was in Jeremy’s bed, anticipating the same great things that had come to me (or I had come to) on Monday night. He laid his head down on the pillow next to me and I waited for him to make his move. Considering I had already been waiting for close to thirty minutes, I was starting to lose patience. I looked over at him, waiting for him to come in for the kill.
But rather than leaning over to kiss me, he asked, “Do you want to wash your face?”
I looked at him inquisitively, both stupefied and speechless. The only response I could muster was, “Ummm…”
“I promise you will look just as beautiful without any makeup.” he assured me.
While I had encountered a number of odd and a few highly inappropriate requests in the bedroom over the years, I had never faced this type of query. I didn’t know how else to respond, so I dutifully got up and headed to the bathroom, where I half expected to find a family of geese in the bathtub, considering the soundtrack that had come from there only minutes before. I found a clean washcloth and washed my face, per Jeremy’s request.
I returned to Jeremy’s bedroom and lay back down next to him. Let’s get this show on the road, I thought to myself. What other distractions pertaining to the bathroom could there be? I turned to face him again, this time with a make-up free face.
“Do you want to brush your teeth?” he asked.
Now I knew for a fact that my breath did not smell, nor my face, nor any other part of my body. All I had consumed since leaving my apartment was Captain Morgan and Ketel One, which in my opinion, could have only improved my breath—it wasn’t as if I had been drinking garlic-infused Natural Light the past six hours, for Christ’s sake. I had both brushed my teeth and thoroughly showered before meeting Jeremy at Opal and this was starting to get a little too Law & Order: SVU for me.
“What is going on here?” I demanded to know. “Does my breath smell? Are you some kind of clean freak or something?”
“No,” Jeremy calmly replied, “I just thought you would want to get ready for bed.”
“Oh am I staying here or something? I didn’t get that memo or else I might have brought a toothbrush and a bedtime story.” I quickly retorted.
“Well you’re invited to stay, just like you were on Monday, except you ran out of here before I could even ask you to.” Jeremy replied as he got up to find me a toothbrush.
Before I could argue, Jeremy had fished a toothbrush out of his dresser drawer.
“Here. It’s one of those one-time use toothbrushes. Just wet it a little.” he explained as he handed over the next step of my personal hygiene routine that he had devised for me.
How about we wet me a little? I thought.
Why he had a stockpile of these creepy toothbrushes that were most likely handed out at homeless shelters, I will never know, but I dutifully took the toothbrush down the hall and into the bathroom. I had never intended for either one of us to spend this much time in the bathroom. I had hardly even gotten any tonsil hockey action and it was already nearing midnight.
While I was pretty weirded out by the chain of events that had just taken place, from the noisy bathroom session, to the tighty whities, to the demands for face washing and teeth cleaning, I couldn’t give up now. That would have been like Sam Ronson giving up on Lindsay Lohan after living through her abandonment of heterosexuality, Cirque Lodge, and her role as a stripper in I Know Who Killed Me. Once you’ve come so far, you just have to ride out the storm—or in my case, the bathroom breaks.
Finally, Jeremy got down to business and it was even better than the first time. I knew I had stayed for a reason and this was it. As I was revering Jeremy for his golden tongue, he suddenly flipped me onto my stomach, grabbed my wrists, and put my hands behind my back. I turned around to find him watching us in the reflection of his mirror.
“What the hell is that?!” I shrieked.
“Oh do you not like that?” he innocently asked as he let go of my arms.
I wasn’t exactly in the mood to play Scott and Lacey Peterson here, so I stopped all activity and sat up on his bed. I couldn’t figure out if tonight’s chain of events was a result of our age difference or a sexual freakiness-personal hygiene difference. It appeared to be a little of both.
He obviously didn’t notice that I was not impressed nor turned on by his WWF Raw behind-the-back move because then he asked, “Can I know what it feels like to have your mouth on me?”
Unfortunately for Jeremy, he had no idea that this was one of my top bedroom behavior pet peeves. Never ask me for head and especially never do the whole head nudge towards the crotch region. While it may work on some girls and it may be selfish of me, I absolutely can’t stand a request for oral sex—I give blow jobs when I damn well feel like it, and after tonight’s string of events, this was not going to be giving night.
I stood up and started getting dressed. It was after midnight and I actually did have a meeting tomorrow.
“Where are you going? What are you doing?” Jeremy asked, with confusion.
“I’m going home. I want to sleep in my own bed.” I truthfully replied.
“You’re the most selfish lover I have ever met.” he replied.
“I’m just using you before you use me.” I explained as I kissed him on the cheek and headed for the front door.
A few somewhat angry text messages later, I never thought I would hear from Jeremy again. His quirky habits, seven-year-old son, unresolved divorce, and underwear preference just weren’t going to work for me. In a city like this, you have to be picky, or in my case, selfish, when it comes to dating men. But it ends up that Jeremy wasn't going to give up on me just quite yet…