ExposedNYC

I grew up with one rule in my household- thou shall not tell lies. I was only grounded once in all of my partying, angst-filled high school days for getting caught in a lie, mainly because I never got enough practice to be good at it.

I clearly never had the proper motivation. After leaving Soccer Stud outside the bar with the promise of a late night rendezvous, I was looking for a way to kill time. I started to walk in the direction of a 7-11 near my house because it also served as an ideal logistic point to be picked up. It’s also an integral part of my childhood memories, as I spent many an underage night hanging out in their parking lot.

After half a block and realizing I was not dressed for winter weather, I stumbled across former acquaintances who offered me a ride home. I paused, considering the distinct possibility that my mom would still be awake and in the living room, and not exactly dying to explain to her why I was leaving again in the middle of the night. And yes, I felt like just as much of a child taking that into consideration as you did reading that sentence, but it comes with the territory of staying at home for the holidays. So, without a plausible excuse of why I should continue walking down the street mid-December, I accepted and arrived home to exactly the scene I had dreadfully anticipated.

My slightly buzzed mind raced for reasons why, upon arriving home I didn’t immediately begin brushing my teeth and changing into pajamas. “Hey mom, your daughter is the only one of her friends not to go home with a guy tonight, so she’s going out to get hers,” isn’t exactly the image I want to leave her with. I babbled something about wanting to spend some more time with Jodie and Troy, and that one of our old friends was coming by to pick me up. The words were out of my mouth before I even knew what I was saying. I wanted to leave myself an out to give directions over the phone when he called, which wouldn’t quite fly when supposedly talking to a friend who quite possibly may still have a spare key to my house.

Then came the phone call, and my stomach began to churn with a mixture of guilt and excitement. I kept my answers short and sweet with “Yes,” “Uh-huh,” and “OK” while he asked if I still wanted to come over, if I was still awake, and if I was excited to see him. Mom seemed either unsuspicious or graciously disinterested. Thankfully, he stopped short of asking me what I was wearing or I would have been in BIG trouble.

I explained once I got into the car that I had been sitting in my parent’s living room, to which he was immediately sympathetic. He was also just in town for the holidays and told me that he was taking me to his parent’s house, too, but not to worry- they were out of town. At this point we both dissolved into laughter at reverting to our childhood selves.

He did have to warn me of one condition- he was flying out in the morning so he would have to take me home that night. I agreed to whatever terms necessary and we pulled up in front of the house and walked into a kitchen still covered with his childhood drawings. As he fed the family dog and showed me the view of the skyline from his deck, I saw a softer side of him than I had ever known. This guy wore nostalgia well, I thought as I followed him up the stairs to his parent’s bedroom.

There was one other thing about this man that made him an ideal gift- he knew me before I lost my virginity. I hadn’t even decided whether I planned on sleeping with him that night, but when we came to the point where he suggested grabbing a condom, he took one look at the hesitation on my face and said, “Hey, don’t worry about it. I know that’s something important to you. I’m just glad to have you here.”

Once home, I got halfway through my bedtime ritual before realizing I had made what would have been a fatal mistake in the pre-cell phone days.

“Hey, just wanted you to know I left earrings on your parent’s bedside table. You might want to get rid of them to avoid any awkward questioning.” After all, I wouldn’t want him getting grounded on my account.

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