You're so curious. I guess I can tell you about the first kiss, how it happened and everything. It was five months after the bar incident. I had already graduated and found a job by that time. He and I spent a lot of time together after that, but we'd never really talked about what happened that night. We were sitting in the couch watching a FIFA game. It was the summer of 2010. Just thinking about it reminds me of how much time has passed. Somehow the subject was brought up. I can't remember which one of us mentioned it. I think it was me. But when we started the conversation I wanted to see his reaction. I had started having feelings for him, but I didn't want to say anything until I knew how he felt.
I asked him why he hadn't kicked me out that night. And he told me that it was because I had been so drunk he was afraid that I would get taken advantage of. And he added with a smile, he thought it was cute that I was an honest drunk. At that I laughed and called him weird. I leaned a little closer and told him my intentions for that night. And then he finally told me that he was glad I had failed. I hoped that he meant what I wanted to mean, that he had feelings for me beyond friendship. It did, because he kissed me. Not that he did anything past that. We spent that night talking to each other, sitting so close we were touching.
That Christmas we went to visit his family in Québec. His grandparents spoke only in French and his nephew made fun of my accent. I think I drank my weight in eggnog, and the ham his mother made was delicious. His brother told me that I was the first girl he'd brought home. About a week after New Years there was some trouble. I was at his parent's house with his sister and she went into labor. I ended up delivering the baby right there in the living room. And then the paramedics came. It was a girl and she was a few weeks premature. That was my first Christmas with him. I gained five pounds, delivered a baby, and was welcomed into the family. At that point we'd only been dating for seven months.
He became infuriating. Really, we had a monstrous fight because of it. I'm not sex-crazed by any means, but he refused to sleep with me. I understood at first. He'd had relationships before where they jumped into bed and it ended because they went too fast. But after Christmas we'd known each for a year already. And he did nothing. We had kissed and cuddled on the couch, and I've seen more daring things in pg-13 films than what we did. It wasn't really the lack of sex that bothered me. To be blunt about it, I was a virgin. You can't miss what you've never had. It was just insecurity. The more time passed, the more unattractive I felt. There was no way a guy could hold out for a year and a half, or so I thought. Later when I talked to him, he confessed that he gotten in the habit of taking ice cold showers. Mystery solved. But back then, I didn't know that he was still stuck on the idea of trying not to rush me.
I talked to one of my friends. If she was still alive, she would have liked you. She was blunt and honest and didn't give a damn what strangers thought. She was a staunch human rights activist. And she was brilliant. She taught at a university, and frequently went to lecture in other cities. When she was back in Seattle she invited me to a café and we talked for the first time in months. (She was the type of woman who never answered her phone or checked voice messages, so us meeting for a chat and coffee was rare.) I told her about everything, and she suggested that I seduce him. It was spring break, and she was bored out of her mind. I think that's why she said it. I just looked at her in shock, trying to figure out if she was joking or not. And then she dragged me into a lingerie store and I knew she wasn't joking. She bought me some things as an early birthday present. I decided to tell him that they had been a birthday gift from a friend, while wearing them, in hopes that he would be jealous. Exactly as planned, he went completely insane with jealously. It backfired on me, instead of doing anything about it, he left. We didn't talk for a week.
I did mention before, I'm a complete failure at seduction of any kind. Again, the things I didn't know at the time led me to make decisions on the basis of limited knowledge. While I was moping and burying myself in writing my latest novel, he was on a business trip in Holland. And when he came back, I was going on a book tour for my last novel. By the end of it, he and I met up in Amsterdam. We talked to each other and the misunderstandings were cleared up.
By this point we'd been dating for nearly a year. We lived together, but he still insisted we sleep in separate rooms. And it was enough to drive me half insane. I commiserated to my friend and she told me that I had to tell him or else get over it and stop complaining. I felt like I was a failure. But eventually we got our happy ending, or else you wouldn't be here. Tomorrow, I'll tell you more of the story, I promise. Now it's time for you to go to bed.