One night I walked into my building and someone came in right behind me. I held the door open for him and pressed the up button to wait for the elevator. He waited there with me. When the elevator arrived I got on and pushed 19. He got on and pushed 20. At this point, I looked at him. Who was this guy I just let into my building? What a coincidence that he’s going to the floor right above mine – that never happened. He was about my height, he was slim, and he had locs. Those are the kind of guys I like. He was definitely my type. Especially the hair. I love to run my fingers through some locs. I kinda smiled at him and then fumbled with my keys wondering why this felt like the longest elevator ride I’d ever taken to my floor. When the elevator announced I had finally arrived at the 19th floor, I promptly got off and went on my merry way. There’s a cutie in my building, I thought to myself.
I saw him a few more times and the scenario was almost always the same. He would come into the building right after me or he would be there before me, we would wait for the elevator, I would push 19 and he would push 20, but maybe once I said, “good night,” as I got off the elevator instead of just looking at him and all his cuteness. I never introduced myself or said hi or anything. I mostly just peeked at him and if he looked at me I smiled and looked away. My hair was probably styled different each time he saw me or should I say each time I saw him. I don’t think he would recognize me as the girl from 19. I don’t think he even noticed which floor I was going to.
One night I was sitting outside of my building with my friend in her mom’s car listening to DJ Self’s topic time and getting ready to get high as a kite. Possibly higher. I was officially 26 and I was sporting a new image – straight inches of strawberry blonde hair flowing all over my shoulders and down my back. It was different than my usual look. My hair is black now but I used to have blonde curly hair and it was a fabulous time in my life. I figured I would give blonde hair another try except straight and see what would happen.
What happened was the guy, about my height, slim, with locs, walked by the car and looked at me. Well, he was looking towards the car. It was freezing outside and he was strolling along with his hands in his pocket trying to stay warm. He was looking towards us like he recognized us. “I think that’s the cute guy with the locs who lives on 20. He’s so cute, right?” I said. At that point my friend rolled down my window and said, “Hey! Do you know her?” “No,” he said. “Come here,” she said. He turned around and headed straight to the car to my open window.
“If you don’t know us, why are you looking over here?” She asked him. I laughed. I didn’t know him but I thought I did. He had a hood on and I couldn’t be sure this was the guy with the locs. It looked like him. He had on the same jacket. Along with creep and weirdo, I also have an amazing memory. It was freezing outside so we told him to get in the car. He told me his name was Brandon. He was 26. He lived with his Aunt and his brother. He had two dogs. He moved here from Georgia a couple of years ago. Among other things I asked him if he lived on 20 and he said yes. We exchanged numbers then he got out of the car.
The next day, or the day after, he wanted to meet me on my floor. He didn’t want me to come to his apartment because his aunt is nosy. He came to my floor and we went in the staircase and we smoked together. It was like 2 am so I had on my pajamas. He kept trying to touch me but I’m ticklish and he could see it from how I was reacting. Finally I had to say, “stop grabbing me, I’m ticklish,” and he said something about me squirting & how he could make me wet the bed. I never knew the two were related but I was slowly realizing that I’m not a kid to be talking about sex in the staircase. Did he think I was gonna fuck him in this staircase? No matter what he thought, that wasn’t gonna happen. “I wanna go home,” I said. I was getting paranoid like the weed was laced or he thought I did stuff like this all the time or I would give in to his advances in a fucking staircase if I stayed there. I’m 26 in a fucking staircase with another 26 year old who lives in my building one floor above me. This was more of a scenario for high school kids.
One night I came home and I was tipsy and lonely and Brandon invited me to chill in his car with him. I didn’t like the idea that he wouldn’t show me his apartment. I always invite people over when my mom’s not home. If he couldn’t invite me over when his aunt wasn’t home I just assumed he was hiding something. I got to the point where I was still obsessed over this other guy who was in a ‘complicated’ relationship but trying to get over it. The same guy who didn’t understand why I would rather he wouldn’t text me. So I took Brandon up on his offer thinking maybe he was in a ‘complicated’ relationship too but I had no way of really knowing. Even if I asked, most people aren’t very honest, how would I know if he was telling the truth or not?
It was freezing outside but I figured I was just going to his car so I didn’t need to be bundled up. I put on a crop top and some leggings with my boots and threw on a jacket. I found his car, which kinda pissed me off because we live in the same fucking building and I wasn’t understanding why he couldn’t meet me in the lobby and walk me to the car so I wasn’t wandering around like an idiot. I still got in. We talked for a while. He mostly told me things about himself and I listened. Then he kept insisting that I lay down and get comfortable. We were in the middle seat of his mini-van. My mom used to have the same exact mini-van except it was green instead of purple and we had black to sliver tints, not just plain black. It felt strange to be getting intimate in a mini-van. Mini-vans are for people with kids like soccer moms. There was even a stick figure family on the back window. His explanation for such a car was his mom left it to him. He had no explanation for laying me down, removing my leggings, removing my panties, performing cunnilingus, and licking my asshole. That was the first time anyone’s tongue went there on my body and by there I mean my ass. I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy it. I also can’t say that I did. I was too busy thinking should a tongue really return to my you-know-what after it licks my asshole? So I didn’t orgasm or anything and I asked him if he wanted to have sex. All the licking he did was like a warm up even with all the thinking. I mean it still felt nice no matter what hygiene questions my mind had. Turns out it was a warm up to sexual frustration as he didn’t have any condoms. I wasn’t even expecting his tongue to go down under unless I would’ve brought my own condoms. I thought we were gonna make out. Turns out he doesn’t like to kiss. Too bad as I’m an excellent kisser and I love to kiss.
Anyway, when we got out the car and were headed into the building I went towards the front door. My building has a front door and a back door. I didn’t notice he was headed towards the back door until I heard him repeating something calling out to me. “Babe,” he said, “Babe. Babe. Babe.” I turned around and I saw him headed towards the other door. “Come this way,” he said. “What did you call me?” I asked even though I knew. “What?” he said, “you don’t like that?” “No, I don’t.” Maybe I was giving him a hard time. I wasn’t being my carefree self. I was being my most frigid self. An, I don’t trust anyone, self. I can’t deny, the places he decided to put his tongue made me trust him less. Then when he called me babe I thought maybe he forgot my name and I trusted him even less. Obviously it reminded me of the first night we were texting and someone else sent me a text that said “babe” by accident. I don’t know what made him call me that but I’m just glad it was at the end of the night and not the beginning.
When I asked him if he had a girlfriend he didn’t answer right away. “Wait what? You think if I had a girlfriend I would be talking to you[?]” Eventually I reminded him, “you still didn’t answer my question.” “What question?” he asked. “Do you have a girlfriend?” “No. I don’t have a girlfriend.” he finally said. He never actually asked me to go anywhere with him or do anything with him. He barely ever text me and he called me randomly. I have horrible reception so we never really had conversations. I wasn’t in a position to be in a relationship anyway. If he would have gotten to know me better, I think he would’ve realized that on his own. I only realized that after the way things went down between us. I don’t trust anyone, I don’t know what I want, and I have a high sex drive – I don’t think I’m fit to be in a relationship with anyone right now. What’s a relationship without trust?
It’s hard to say what Brandon actually wanted from me. If he just wanted sex, he was taking forever to get around to it. He would text me at random hours but usually after midnight. If I was awake I would text him back but he never really had plans for us. I think maybe he thought we could have sex at my house while my mom was sleep. That was a definite no. He would text me in the afternoon around 12 or 1 but when I responded he wouldn’t reply until hours later. What the fuck? Even my guy in his ‘complicated’ relationship would communicate with me in a timely manner. I hated the idea of him being so close to me physically but so distant emotionally. So now I just see him around. I ran into him on the elevator once on my way to smoke. He was obviously high. He smelled like it and he looked like it. He looked so good. Always. I was on 19, going to 27 to smoke with my friend & he was getting off the elevator thinking it was 20. He smiled when he recognized me and stepped back into the elevator. When we got to his floor he said “be good,” while he was getting off. He always said that & it reminded me of the True Blood theme song, “I wanna do bad things with you.” Whenever he said “be good,” I obviously just thought of all the ways I could be bad.
Brandon met me at a time when I was transitioning. I was messing around with my friend who was in a ‘complicated’ relationship and trying to justify it and get over it at the same time. I actually met Brandon the same night he sent me a text he was trying to send his ‘girlfriend’ and it didn’t seem complicated to me at all. I was getting high constantly before I went to work and as soon as I got out of work. I was half moved in to my old home with my mom and half living out of my storage filed with stuff from my old apartment in Albany. There are three bedrooms in my apartment and I was staying in my sister’s old room that had a bed in it already. My mom was renting my old room out to a tenant. I had my mattress in storage because I planned to move back into my old room once my mom moved out. So my mom moved out. The tenant moved into my mom’s room. Now it was time for me to move into my old room, but I needed someone to help me get my big ass mattress out of storage.
So one night when my mom was finally moved all the way out but before I had my bed in my old room, Brandon came to the apartment. I showed him my room: pink walls, dark blue ceiling like a night with no clouds, and plush pink carpet. I’ve never had sex in my childhood room. I left home when I was 17 & a virgin and came back when I was 25 and a novice. I thought it would be great to have sex right on that plush pink carpet. Brandon didn’t think so. So I grabbed a cushion from my sofa and we did it on top of that. Not even close to any fantasy of mine but it felt like a dream. I was actually kinda satisfied when we finished. That’s the first and last time I think I’ll be having sex for a while.
What I wanted to actually happen between Brandon and I was for him to drive me somewhere in his car and maybe teach me how to drive. For him to call me and ask to spend time together. For him to invite me upstairs when his ‘aunt’ wasn’t home. For him to come see me in my apartment. For us to watch movies, make out, cuddle, play video games. We just small talked via text and phone calls with bad reception. I wanted us to date and form a relationship like normal people. We weren’t on the same page. I never expressed any of this to him. He never asked me out so I never bothered to tell him. The sex on the sofa cushion ruined any chance of that happening. I was embarrassed after the fact. He asked me if I was really 26 and I have no idea why. Was I immature or too mature to be 26? Was he really 26? Hmm. I realized I had rushed things because I felt like it was now or never. After the sex he tried to give me something. Earlier I told him my mom said I couldn’t have weed in the house. He brought me some bud with papers and a grinder. I didn’t take it but I thought it was so thoughtful and sweet of him to bring me anything at all. I wanted to have wild sex with him in my actual bed but I just didn’t have it when he happened to be in my room. I took what I could get from him when I could get it. That was my mistake. I’m not fucking anyone else unless we actually date. This was a learning experience for sure. I wonder what could have been but I remember what actually was and I’ll never do anything like that again.
He saw me while I was moving my mattress out of storage and I thought we would definitely get it on for the second time that night. I have a king size bed and 2 twin box spring. I had to ask a guy from my church to help me because I don’t drive or have a car and no one else would help me. I wasn’t gonna ask Brandon, he never fucking texted me back. So it was a Thursday night and we we’re bringing everything through the back door because it was easiest that way. Not only did Brandon NOT help, he asked me who the guy was that was helping me and when I answered him he said I ‘didn’t have to lie.’ Why would I lie? I mean if he would’ve helped me move my bed, I would have had him in it as soon as I put the sheets on. But I realize now that he just didn’t like me or anything I had to offer, even sex on a pillow-top king size bed. So I told him when we see each other we don’t have to speak and he never responded to me so I figured he agreed.
Once I was in Stop & Shop near my house. I was looking for mayo and couldn’t find it but I saw a guy with a Stop & Shop shirt bent over a box & figured he could help speed the process up. I went over to him and said, “excuse me, can you tell me where the mayo is?
Like which aisle?” The guy gets up and turns around and it’s Brandon. I was embarrassed so I was like, “oh, forget it.” He still tried to help me, which I thought was weird. He basically took forever to text me back like I wasn’t worth a prompt response. He also didn’t want to spend time with me which I took as an insult since I had an apartment to myself. I wished I never gave him my number. More importantly, I wish I never let him be the first person I fucked in my pink palace. After I ran into him I texted him and he didn’t respond. I drunk dialed him but he didn’t pick up. But every time we see each other he says something to me. I just nod or wave or something else non-verbal. I think he’s just being polite but I have no idea why he bothers.
The other day I was walking towards my building and I see this lady walking towards me and a little boy, maybe 1 or 2 years old, walking behind her. She crosses in front of me like she’s going to cross the street or get into a car, but at first I think she’s coming right towards me and it startles me because I was looking at the kid and not really paying attention. I kinda move to the side and I wonder why she’s not holding the kids hand or anything since she’s going towards the street. Then I see a guy struggling with a scooter and I figure oh okay maybe he’s with them and he’s watching the boy to make sure he doesn’t run into the street. “Hi,” he says to me. I’m focused on the scooter because it looks kinda big for the kid as the guy is kinda struggling to carry it. I look up and it’s Brandon holding the scooter. I just smile and wave. I wonder if that’s his family. His kid. His girlfriend. Probably. That would explain the 4 am texts and phone calls at random hours. I loved to hear him talk though. One day I was outside walking to my friends mom’s car and someone yelled my name so I looked and it was him. I was shocked. Why could he talk to me but he couldn’t text me consistently? I liked to hear him talk. I liked his voice. I just could not stand to wait hours for a text. It made me feel like I wasn’t important. He wouldn’t like it if I kept him waiting for hours.
I keep running into him and he keeps speaking. I never speak, only gesture. When I realized it was him who said hi, even though he was struggling with that scooter or whatever, I imagined having him in my bed, sitting on his face like he suggested one time, and seeing if he could really make me squirt seeing as he thought that was something he could make me do since I’m ticklish. Maybe one day I’ll run into him on an elevator again and I’ll press 19 and he’ll press 20 and we’ll be alone but, instead of me standing there like an idiot, I’ll get real close to him, corner him maybe, whisper something in his ear, and see what he does. I still think he’s so attractive so I’ll probably never have the courage to do anything but wave. I’m okay with that. Sometimes I wonder if Brandon is even his real name or if that really was his kid and why he never told me where he worked so I could avoid it and if the sex was really bad and he just didn’t want to hurt my feelings or why he didn’t help me move my mattress and why he never ever responds to my texts or phone calls. I may never have the answer to any of my questions for or about him because I’ll probably never ask. I’m okay with that too.