Confessions of an Ugly Girl (10 page)

Oh.

My.

God.

I honestly have no idea what he was doing down there, but his tongue was magical. At one point, I felt like I was going to levitate off the bed. I wanted it to last forever, but it was too amazing and I came relatively quickly, screaming like I didn’t think I was capable of screaming.

(I hope his walls are soundproof.)

“Jesus Christ…” I let my head drop onto the pillow. “Wow.”

He looked very pleased with himself. He wheeled around the side of the bed and stroked my hair with the back of his hand. “You enjoyed yourself, I take it.”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered again. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“They had a course at Stanford,” Sam said. “It was a night course. I considered getting my Master’s.”

I smacked him in the shoulder and he laughed. He said he was going to go back to my computer and let me recover. It actually took me a while. Too amazing for words.

After I was lying there for God knows how long, I heard Sam yell: “I fixed it!”

I came running. “You did?” Ordinarily, when I mess up my computer, I have to take it to some store and it doesn’t get back to me for about week.

“Yes, and I deserve a goddamn Nobel Prize or something. This was
not
easy.”

I kissed him. “You’re my hero.”

He pulled me into his lap again and I started kissing his neck, which he seemed to like. I slid my hand up his thigh and over to his crotch and felt him getting hard. He seemed not to be too interested in it and just kind of tolerating my hand being there. “You don’t like this?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “Can’t feel it. Doesn’t do much for me.”

“But you’re getting hard,” I pointed out.

He shrugged again. “It’s just a reflex.”

“Well, what can I do to make you come?”

“Nothing. I can’t come.”

I stared at him. “You said you could have sex.”

“Right. I can have sex. But I don’t have an orgasm.”

This blew my mind, although more than anything, it was the fact that he was so cavalier about it. I felt myself getting flustered. “Well, what can I do to make you feel good, then?”

Sam grinned at me. “Well, I can feel everything from the shoulders up. So if you stick to that area, you’re in good shape.”

So that’s what I did. I kissed and licked him all over his neck and his ears and his face, and I ran my hands through his hair. He might not have come, but he was definitely enjoying it. I don’t think he was pretending at all because I could see the sweat on his brow and he was pulling me really tight to him with his wrists. At one point, he squeezed his eyes shut and whispered, “Oh God, Millie, I love you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that or if I should say it back. I felt like anything said in the throes of passion was probably to be disregarded. But I had wanted to tell him I loved him so badly that I felt like it was wrong to leave him hanging. I didn’t want him to think I didn’t love him. So I finally whispered back, “I love you, Sam.”

It was the right thing to say. He hugged me tighter and we kissed and it was amazing as usual. This is it. He’s it. He’s the one.

Please, God, don’t let me screw it up.

September 16:

One thing I’ve learned about Sam is that he’s really good about sleeping. He’s one of those people whose head hits the pillow and he’s out like a light, while I end up lying awake for close to an hour some nights. Oh, and he also takes naps. Last Sunday afternoon, around two o’clock, he started yawning and told me he’s going to lie down for a while. Tell me, what 34-year-old man takes naps?

Actually, I’m jealous. I always have trouble sleeping, probably because there’s always so much on my mind. I worry about work, being alone forever, my stupid biological clock, all that crap. Sam’s mind is clearly very uncluttered.

Last night I stayed at his place and he went to bed while I got ready in the bathroom. I expected to get out and find him sound asleep, but instead he was lying in the dark with his eyes wide open. I lay down next to him and looked at him. Considering Sam always wears glasses during the day, he looks kind of vulnerable and sweet without them.

“Millie,” he said. “I want to tell you something.”

I knew he wasn’t married and I didn’t think he was gay, so I couldn’t imagine what he was going to tell me. I just hoped it didn’t involve The Beautiful Holly.

“What I said to you the other night,” he said. “When I told you I loved you, I meant that. I wasn’t just saying it because you were pleasuring me. I mean, yes, I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly, but I meant it when I said I loved you. In case you were wondering.”

“Oh,” I said, pretending I hadn’t been thinking about it nonstop since he said it.

“I love you,” he said.

“I... I do too.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You do what?”

“I do... love you. I love you. Sheesh.”

Sam laughed and flung his arm around me, hugging me close to him. About five minutes later, we had both fallen asleep.

September 17:

I still haven’t told my mother about Sam.

I’m awful, I know. She called me today and was telling me about this new diet and some story about how this woman she knew who was forty just got married, so there’s
still hope
for me. “Are you still dating on the interweb?” she asked me. She always calls the Internet something different.

“Not… really,” I replied honestly.

“Why not, Millie?” Recently, she read an article about Internet dating, and how it’s the best way for a woman in her thirties to find a husband. So she’s suddenly changed her mind about the whole “everyone you meet on the Internet is a serial killer” thing. Or maybe she feels like it’s worth the risk of a serial killer if it means I might actually get married. “You know, there’s a dating site called J-date, where the ‘J’ stands for ‘Jewish,’ and everyone who signs up has to be Jewish! Isn’t that amazing?”

“Amazing,” I mumbled.

“So are you going to sign up for J-date?”

“Not right now.”

“Tonight then?”

It was the perfect time to tell her about Sam, but I couldn’t do it. She’s willing to accept a guy who isn’t Jewish, but I don’t think she’ll accept Sam. Maybe Sam is wonderful and everyone acts like he’s such a great catch, but the truth is that he’s a quadriplegic and therefore
not
a great catch. I’m scared my mother would freak out and try to make me break up with him. And I can’t conceal his disability for even a short time, because if I told her how serious things are, she would definitely want to meet him ASAP.

So instead, I said, “I, um, need a break.”

“A break!” my mother yelled. “You’re 33 years old! You’re only getting older.”

“Everyone is getting older,” I pointed out.

“Don’t be smart with me, Matilda,” she snapped at me. “I’m just trying to keep you from wasting your life. Don’t you want to have children?”

I closed my eyes and tried to go to my happy place while my mother let loose on me. I was zoned out but somehow I caught the phrases “set you up” and “won’t take no for an answer.”

“What?” I said.

“You’re going to really like him,” my mother was saying. “His name is George and he’s the son of one of the women from temple. He’s Jewish.”

I didn’t know what was wrong with George, but if he was letting his mother set him up, there was guaranteed to be something wrong with him.

“And he’s an accountant, like you!” my mother said.

There was no point in telling my mother yet again than I’m an actuary, not an accountant, and that there’s a difference between the two jobs. All she seems to understand is that I’m not a doctor or a lawyer or a teacher.

“Ma, can’t you leave me be?”

“So this is what you want,” my mother huffed. “To be single forever? An old maid?”

Eventually, I’m going to tell my mother about Sam. I swear it. I just can’t do it yet. Maybe in a month or two. Or never. We’ll just run off to Argentina and get married.

September 20:

I’ve spent several nights now at Sam’s place, to the point where he suggested last night that he clear some drawer space for me. I was really excited when he said that. I’ve never had a guy make drawer space for me.

Then I got to thinking that maybe he already has a drawer cleaned out from when he was with Holly. That dampened my excitement only slightly.

This morning, I did the walk of shame back to my apartment after spending the night with Sam. Although I’m not entirely sure if it’s a walk of shame if you’re 33 years old and the guy is your boyfriend. Probably not.

Unfortunately, Martha caught me walking down the driveway, and apparently noticed that my hair was disheveled and I was still wearing my dress from last night. The whole thing made me really wish I lived in some anonymous apartment building.

“Did you stay over at that boy’s apartment last night?” Martha asked accusingly.

I’m not sure if Sam, who is in his mid-30s, qualifies as a
boy
, but I guess it’s all the same to Martha.

“Yes,” I said, and hung my head.

I braced myself for a lecture about giving away the cow or the milk or something like that, but instead, Martha just shook her head at me like she was so disappointed. Then she stormed back into her house.

Honestly, I’ve got to move. To a place with less stairs.

September 23:

10 things I love about Sam, in no particular order:

1. He is the funniest guy I’ve ever met.

2. He is singlehandedly supporting the local flower shop. I always say I don’t to sound low maintenance, but I secretly love flowers.

3. He doesn’t seem to be turned off or even care how much I weigh.

4. He is incredibly handsome, more so than any guy I’ve ever dated.

5. I know this is going to come as a surprise, but I love his hands. At first they freaked me out, but now I find them oddly sexy.

6. When my computer breaks, he always fixes it for me. He is a genius. (Although he has installed high powered anti-virus software for me, because he says I am like a magnet for viruses.)

7. He gives the best oral sex of any man alive.

8. I love that he’s a nerd and all his friends are nerdy too.

9. He is an amazing kisser.

10. He loves me.

September 26:

Donna and I still have our Friday evening sessions at the bar together. Sam said he didn’t want to get in the way of that (yet another thing I love about him). We went today to have our girl time, but all we ended up talking about was Sam. Since Donna is married, she now has to experience dating vicariously through me.

“Have you guys had sex yet?” Donna asked me, after our first beers were finished.

“Donna!”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, prude. Just tell me.”

I felt that familiar heat in my cheeks. “No, we haven’t,” I murmured. “Not yet. Everything else, but not sex.”

“You want to?”

“Of course!” I hesitated. Most couples have sex by date four to six. We’re well past that point. “But he can’t, you know, feel it. So it would just be for me and I don’t want to seem overeager.”

Donna’s brown eyes turned into saucers. “Yikes, he can’t
feel
it?” she asked, way too loud.

“Keep your voice down!” I hissed. “And yeah, he can’t. I mean, he can’t feel most of his body.”

“Wow, that sucks.”

“Tell me about it.” Although if Sam wasn’t a quadriplegic, he’d be way out of my league.

Sam has gone down on me a bunch more times and each time has been more amazing than the last. But I definitely think about having sex with him a lot. I want to feel him inside me.

We talked about it before. Sam said that he takes a pill to get hard and he doesn’t have a lot of control, but he assured me he could definitely do it. He said he’d just have to lie there and I’d have to do all the thrusting. He sounded really apologetic and said that he prefers oral sex, probably because he knows he’s amazing at it. I think he wants to have sex with me too, but he’s nervous that it won’t be good. Honestly, I don’t know how that’s possible because sex with someone you’re intensely attracted to basically has to be good, but I kind of understand.

It’s going to happen really soon though. We can’t keep our hands off each other, so it’s just a matter of time.

OCTOBER

October 5:

Ah so, sex with Sam…

I want to say it was totally romantic and spontaneous, but it just couldn’t be. Sam had to take a pill in order to get ready (thank you, Viagra) and then he had to empty his bladder using a catheter. He explained all that to me in a conversation that was probably more awkward for me than it was for him. I really had no idea about any of this. I keep thinking that he’s a completely normal guy who just can’t walk, but his disability is a lot more involved than that.

He was so matter-of-fact about the whole thing. He’s been a quadriplegic for half his life. But for me, it’s all new and a little awkward. I hope someday we’ll get to a point in our relationship where it won’t be a big deal to me either.

When Sam came out of the bathroom, he transferred into the bed and allowed me to undress him. I find Sam’s body hot, but I know it’s not what you’d call objectively hot. Like, he’s not
Playgirl
magazine material. None of the muscles work from the chest down, so obviously he doesn’t have rock hard abs or anything like that no matter how much he goes to the gym (which is not at all).

But even during my somewhat limited experiences with men, I’d had sex with men who had much worse bodies than his. He isn’t obese or abnormally hairy or covered in psoriasis. He just isn’t muscular. Well, so what?

Despite the wheelchair, Sam always seems like the picture of self-confidence, but I saw that waver a little when he was naked. He knew what he looked like. Then again, I still think I was more shy about being naked than he was. I don’t know if there’s anything I like about my body. The best thing I can say is that I have big boobs, although they’re no longer as bouncy as they used to be. Holly looked like she had a perfectly tight little body and I was pretty sure mine suffered by comparison.

“You’re so sexy,” Sam said, raising his arms up to touch me. “I love you so much.”

It wasn’t hard for Sam to get an erection, but it was more difficult to get it to be hard enough to penetrate me. When it was, I wasted no time in slipping on the condom and jumping on top of him. He laughed at my eagerness.

It’s been well over a year since I’ve had sex. I forgot how amazing it felt just to have someone inside me. And the fact that it was someone I loved, who loved me, made it all the better. Sam wasn’t kidding when he said he couldn’t thrust. I had to do
all
the work. But he made up for it by touching and kissing me nonstop. It took a while, but I eventually climaxed. Not as hard as from oral sex, but just as satisfying. Because it was with Sam.

As I collapsed next to Sam, I could see him studying my face. “Well?” he said.

“Good,” I said.

He smiled. “Good,” he said, although he probably meant “thank God.”

October 16:

You are going to think I am the absolute worst person ever.

My mother called me last night. Surprise! She had arranged a blind date for me with that George guy. I was completely shocked. I told her she should cancel it but obviously, I couldn’t tell her why. Yes, I could have told her about Sam. But then she would have wanted to meet him ASAP and I am just not ready to deal with that.

I wanted to call George directly to cancel, but she wouldn’t give me his phone number! I think she knew what I wanted to do.

So now I’m stuck. He’s coming to my apartment tomorrow night to pick me up and I pretty much have to go out with him. I could tell him I’m sick, but doing that to his face would be too hard. It’ll be easier just to go on the date and be awful company. Or do whatever I do on all the dates I go on that makes guys never want to call me again. Just sit there and look ugly, I guess.

The really awful part is that I had to lie to Sam about it. I told him I’ll be going out with Donna tomorrow night. He was so nice about it—I felt terrible. He smiled at me and said, “That’s great—you need to have your girl time!”

I want to tell him the truth, but I already lied to him about my mother knowing about him, and I don’t want to hurt him by admitting I never told her we were dating.

Sam’s never going to find out about this date, and tomorrow night it will be over and my mother will be (temporarily) satisfied.

October 17:

So tonight was a complete disaster. I honestly can’t imagine things having gone any worse. I feel like crying.

George was supposed to pick me up at seven. I was so nervous about the whole thing, I couldn’t eat anything at lunch. Sam and I were having lunch and he kept asking me what was wrong. I wish I could have told him. I should have just told him.

George actually managed to find the side entrance I use, so he didn’t bother Martha when he knocked on my door. It was too bad, because if you’re looking to scare a guy away, a crazy cat lady doesn’t hurt. When I opened the door, I was completely ready to hate the man standing behind it

When I saw George, I was… shocked. He was actually nice looking. One might even call him handsome. He wasn’t disfigured in any way (note my high standards), he had those kind of dark Semitic good looks, and there was even, I swear to God, a cute little cleft in his chin.

“Um, hi,” I said, wringing my hands together.

“Hey there,” George said. When he opened his mouth, I completely expected him to have some terrible stutter or have the voice of a 12-year-old girl, but he sounded totally normal. I was taken aback. “You’re Millie, right?”

“That’s right,” I confirmed.

“Good,” George said. “Last time I got halfway through the date before I realized I had the wrong girl.”

And he was
funny
. How was this possible?

“I brought you something, Millie,” George said, and handed me a rose he’d been holding behind his back.

And
he brought me flowers. I couldn’t believe it. No guy aside from Sam has ever brought me flowers. I ended up staring at the rose for a full minute, until George probably thought I was crazy.

He told me that he made reservations at a restaurant and we got into his car, which was a pretty nice car. He must have made good money as an accountant. I was just totally baffled. Why was this great guy letting his mother set him up with ugly girls?

“So do you go on blind dates very much?” I asked him.

“Not really,” George laughed. “I thought it was kind of weird, to be honest. But my mother was so enthusiastic, I thought it was worth a try. Plus there aren’t many Jewish girls in the Bay Area.”

So he actually recognized that it was weird to be set up on a date by his mother. Score another point for George.

As we sat in the car, I couldn’t help but think that this was the kind of guy I would have been thrilled to go out with a few months ago. Hell, I would have
died
to go out with someone like him. But as I sat there, all I could think about was Sam. I just wanted to see him. I just wanted this date to be over so I could be with him again.

When George pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant, it took a minute for me to register where we were. We were at Sam’s First Date Restaurant. A place where Sam and I had gone at least half a dozen times, where everyone knew him, and by proxy, now knew me. I was completely horrified.

“Um, this is where we’re going?” I asked brilliantly.

“Yeah, I love this place,” George said. “I made a reservation.”

My mouth felt dry. I tried to think of a reason we couldn’t go inside, but I was coming up blank as usual. Of course, ten minutes later, when it was too late, I thought of like a dozen things I could have said. Maybe I found a hair in my soup. Or I noticed the waiters didn’t wash their hands after using the bathroom. But right now, I could only mutely follow George to my certain doom.

The hostess, who I thankfully didn’t recognize, led us to our table. George tried to put his hand on my back to lead me and I jumped away like he had just lit me on fire. I was embarrassed, but oh well. My goal was to screw up this date and I was doing an amazing job, as usual. It’s my specialty.

As we waited to get our orders taken, we made small talk. “So you’re an accountant?” I asked George.

“No, I’m an actuary,” he said. “My mother always tells everyone I’m an accountant. I don’t think she can distinguish. You’re an accountant, right?”

“No, I’m an actuary too,” I said.

George laughed hard at that. He had a very nice laugh. Very pleasant. “Wow, we have a lot in common. Two actuaries whose mothers haven’t the slightest clue what we do. Does she ask you to do the taxes?”

“No,” I said. “She doesn’t trust me, even though she thinks that’s what I do for a living.”

George laughed even harder. Wow, he was really normal and nice too. And he was right—we had stuff in common.

I found out that the reason he was single yet not a total freak was that he just got out of a six-year relationship. Apparently, they were close to marriage, but it ended up not working out. And it didn’t sound like he was bitter about the whole thing either.

So here I was, on a date with a great guy, and the truth was, it was all I could do to keep from racing out of the restaurant and hitching a ride to Sam’s apartment. As George and I talked, I kept imaging Sam’s face, Sam spreading my thighs apart and lowering his lips onto me. Oh God… Sam...

“Millie?”

I blinked, so caught up in my little fantasy about Sam that I had totally zoned out. “Huh?” I said.

George cocked his head at me. “Do you want dessert?”

Actually, I didn’t have much of an appetite right now, and I didn’t want to prolong this date any further. George was a nice guy and he didn’t deserve to have his time wasted. It was clear that I didn’t want to be here, so it was better just to leave.

George excused himself to go to the bathroom and I was left to contemplate my empty dish. I saw a hand reach in front of me to take the plate away and I was horrified to look up and see the face of Laura, the waitress who had talked to me about Sam during our first date, who had served us in this restaurant at least half a dozen times. She was obviously very friendly with Sam.

“Millie?” Laura frowned at me. I felt like my cheeks were about to burst into flames. “Did you and Sam break up?”

“No,” I mumbled, looking away from her.

“Then who’s that guy?”

“He’s my…” Think fast, Millie! “My cousin.”

Good one.

“Your cousin?” Laura looked skeptical. “He doesn’t
look
like your cousin.”

Yeah, the gorgeous dark man who had been sitting across from me all evening didn’t really look like he could be related to me.

“Second cousin,” I added, even though it was painfully obvious I was on a date.

Laura wandered away and I got a sinking feeling. She and Sam are clearly friends and I even get the sense they might have dated at some point. I wonder if she knows him well enough to tell on me… she definitely might. Ugh.

George drove me back home and when we got to my apartment, he didn’t make a move to kiss me, thank God. I don’t know what I would have done. In fact, he didn’t make a move to come out of the car. “I’m not going to ask to come up,” he said.

“Oh,” I said. Well, this was what I was used to.

“I would,” George added, “but obviously, you’re already involved with someone.”

I stared at him, shocked. Smart, funny, handsome,
and
perceptive.

“Aside from how distracted you were,” he said, “at one point you called me Sam.”

“I did?” I blushed.

George looked a little annoyed, but less than he had a right to be. “Why don’t you tell your mother about Sam? So she doesn’t set you up on any more doomed blind dates.”

“I can’t,” I said. “She wouldn’t approve of him.”

“He’s not Jewish?”

If only that were the worst problem with my boyfriend. “Among other things.”

“Ah,” George said. “Well, good luck with that. Tell him he’s a lucky man.”

I have to admit, George was pretty classy about the whole thing. Part of me wonders if I were single, if things might have worked out between the two of us. Probably not—he was just way too wonderful to go out with someone like me. But honestly, I don’t even care. When I got home, all I could think about was seeing Sam. I called his cell and he didn’t pick up, which made me feel... well, nervous.

I keep wondering if Laura called him up and told him I was with some other guy. I really think she might have. I’m freaking out a little bit because I don’t know how I’m going to explain this. He’s got to be pissed about it and he has a right to be. What kind of lunatic is in a wonderful relationship with a great guy and then goes out on a blind date with someone else?

Maybe I’m freaking out over nothing. Maybe he doesn’t know. Probably he just went to sleep early or something. I’ll call him first thing tomorrow morning.

October 18: