Saturday, 09/11/05 - 12:08 pm.
Tonight, I hung out with my friends, to celebrate Michelle's birthday, which is tomorrow. I had never, ever had a night out. It was mostly a big car, with seven people in it, including myself. They sang along, we went for dinner, then we went to Michelle's house and talked a lot.
However, as much fun as I was having, as soon as we ended dinner, at nearly 9:30, I wanted to go home. That's just me. But I did have a lot of fun, I'd never done something as simple as being in a friend's car, packed with your gang.
Highlight of the day, though: Joseph and I made love *cough*.
Like, really made love. I went to his house in the afternoon, relieved. Because you know, with my parents it's all excuses, but they're out of town, and with my brother it's just "hey, I'll be back later", and he goes "cool". So I happily drove away to his house.
I always get inhibited as soon as he opens his door. So for a while, we were killing time on his very slow computer. Then we watched Sin City. It's his type of movie, he knew the comic. But halfway through it, we got into more interesting activities.
We started making out, and you know where that can lead if you're in bed. He kept insisting on making love. It took a lot of effort for me to giving in, mostly because I'm scared to death of getting pregnant. But we got to it, with protection.
I started to cry so hard when he was trying to get inside of me. So hard. I was trying to avoid that moment of contact, and he went: what is wrong with you?!. For a second, I though he was going to get mad, get turned off, yell at me and get off of me, thus screwing everything. But he asked me to hang on, and to look into his eyes.
Open up or it'll hurt like hell, and I'd only cry harder. Do you like it? Tell me what you feel, tell me how it feels, he kept saying. I didn't know what to say, I don't like it, but I like you, was all I could think of. Do you love me?, he asked. I love you, I'm doing this for you...do you love me?, I replied. I ADORE you, and I appreciate this. This being the whole making love deal. I just kept crying. I always knew I'd cry on my first time. Because really, this was my first time.
It came to a point in which I stopped crying. It stopped hurting, and it felt perfect, and I could even move along with him. And it's funny how quickly you start sweating. Do you want me out?, he asked. I wanted to say yes, but also...no. Mostly for him. Although at a certain point, I was kind of enjoying it. He just kept kissing me, saying he loved me, that I could hang on for a while, or I can't wait until I see you giving birth, you make the most beautiful faces. Oh, fuck off, dude.
We finished. And we stayed in bed, cuddling, watching the end of Sin City, although I didn't understand it very much (OBVIOUSLY). He'd hold me, and kiss me, and say he wanted to stay like this forever. It started to rain softly, and his bedroom got dark. He begged me, he BEGGED me to spend the night with him. But that'd have been pushing my brother's kindness. He's not to ask "where you going?" and "who're you going with?", but one thing is a night out with your friends, a "I'll be back later", and another is spending the night at your boyfriend's house, a "I'll be back tomorrow morning".
So I feel bad for leaving him. I disliked the sexual intercourse, except for the fact that it was him. I made that very clear, and I told him so while we were, uh, at it. When he was hugging me afterwards, offering me a handkerchief to dry my tears, he said all those things I said gave him the chills. And it was cute, that meant he was listening to me, and not just, uh, pumping.
Ok, I'm tired, and I can't elaborate my thoughts anymore. But I will not go without saying: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MR. JOE FUCKIN' PERRY!!!!!!!!!