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Well this was what was blared across the page: "Ho No!".
Yup. My first big headline and it's titled "Ho No!". Really makes you want to frame it and send it over to Mom.
I sigh as I get out of bed. I'm not really complaining. Please don't think that. In fact, at the end of the day - I'm doing what I love. I've always loved journalism. I get that from my mom. See, my dad died in a car accident when I was three - so I never really got to know him. And my mom went from job to job in her career in public relations. She finally moved me to St. Livy when I was 8 to take up a job as the Press Secretary for King Leopold II.
Every day, I saw her deal with the public relations operations of the King and his kingdom. It was a very firsthand look and one that resonated with me as I grew older. You can say I had a unique childhood growing up. I lived in the palace - the King insisted that all his staff reside in the palace - and our healthcare and schooling were taken care of by the Royal coffers. Part of being a member of the King's retinue, I guess. So whereas most kids were out playing and learning about fractions and cheese in elementary schools back in America, I was in a class with the sons and daughters of lords and ladies, learning about the geopolitical changes that were affecting the kingdom with the close of the Cold War.
For a girl that loved learning, that should have been a very happy time of my life right?
It wasn't. It was horrible.
I don't know if it was me, or if it was the fact that I wasn't royalty, or that I was an American, but from the very first day I was the center of ridicule. Picked on.
It didn't help that I was a good girl. That my mother always doted on me in every aspect. That she protected me from the "ways of the royals" as she put it. I always studied. Always did my homework. Always got the be
st grades. And sure I had friends, but I never felt completely accepted. When I finally came back to America to go to college at Yale I finally got a chance to get out and on my own two feet.
And it felt wonderful. I started dating boys - something I didn't do all during high school. I was surprised that they were into me. I still don't know why, to be honest. Don't get the wrong idea though - I'm still a virgin. And no, I'm not waiting till marriage or anything.
It's just that I haven't met the right guy yet.
Is Jake the right guy? He's my current boyfriend - and my first real potential person I would have sex with that I've had since I started living on my own two years ago. We've dated for like five months and we've fooled around. I mean, I've gone down on him twice. It was okay, I guess. He acts sometimes like he's all that, but Jake's safe. He doesn't have like a large dick or anything - like normal, 5 inches. I'm kind of getting ready to sleep with him by inviting him over. He came over last night and we cuddled in bed as we watched a movie in my room together.
Speaking of which...where is Jake? I've been up and sitting in bed for like ten minutes now and he can't be in the bathroom that long. Usually he wakes up and tries to stick his hands down my panties. What? It's not like I wear anything sexy to bed. Just a t-shirt and a pair of boy shorts. But I'm getting close. I even got laser hair removal the other day. You know...down there. I want the first time to be special.
But while it's nice to not have Jake pawing at me, I'm a little curious where he went to. It's not like he's an early riser and he doesn't usually wake up to make me breakfast or anything. Although that would be absolutely lovely, it’s not in Jake's MO. Doesn't make him a man, apparently, according to him.
I get out of bed completely now, driven by curiosity and walk to my door. It's closed, so I open it and look out the living room.
My roommate, Jenna, and I share an apartment on the Lower East Side. It's decent. A fourth floor walkup on Essex and Rivington. We've had it for two years now and we found each other on Craigslist. She's usually gone a lot for work - she travels and buys clothes for Wal-Mart.
Right now, I pad across the living room and see that the bathroom is dark. Is Jake even in the apartment?
That's when I hear a faint giggling coming from Jenna's room. Jenna brings home guys pretty regularly, but she's usually really discreet about it. She respects my space and makes sure they come in and out without fuss. I generally don't mind, but somehow I have a nagging feeling about this.
Plus, her door is slightly open. Not knowing why I do it, I walk closer and closer and peer in through the gap. She’s definitely in there with someone.
I should probably leave them alone. I’m acting like some sort of voyeur out here. Jenna’s room is dark, and she still has some music on. I hear muffled voices.
I’m just about to leave when something catches my eye.
A man’s watch.
So what, right? If Jenna has a guy over, he’s gotta have a watch, right?
Well this is the same one I gave Jake for our 3-month anniversary. It’s a Bulova – all I could really afford. Stainless steel with a blue face.
More suspicious now, I’m listening to the paranoid voice in my head and I think I’m walking inside.
Oh no! What if it’s not Jake? Jenna’s going to hate me!
Just to make it clear, I clear my throat and knock.
“Oh, fuck!” I hear Jenna say. I look in. Something is squirming in her bed. There’s clothes all over the place.
Then I see Jake’s tighty-whities. He insists on wearing them, saying they keep his “gigantic” balls in place. Whatever.
A lot of guys could wear them, right?
