I’ve heard that the best relationships are the ones that start off friendly, no funny business. Friends first, love later. I figured that that’s where things might just end up with Carlos, my Plenty Of Fish boo thang.
We’ve been talking for a month and change now. There wasn’t anything amorous between us – he told me from the beginning that he wasn’t looking for a relationship, and I appreciated his honesty. We got to know each other’s personalities and preferences. I was attracted to his confidence and humor…along with his six-foot frame, high cheekbones and Haitian accent, but I knew that it wouldn’t go past that. And that was okay. He’d text me every single day even if it was just to say hello.
We were becoming closer and closer until he changed everything on a Sunday morning – said he wanted more than my friendship. We met up that same day and shared nothing more than a few laughs and hugs. I still didn’t have the required, undeniable butterflies, even after we met up in person. You know when something’s there. And nothing was there.
After we saw each other for the first time, he stopped talking to me altogether. Wtf? What did I do? It’s a scenario that’s happened plenty of times – the ‘ol disappearing act. My texts went unanswered and my calls were ignored. But instead of complaining to my girls about where he went and why he didn’t take me with him, I confronted him directly. I wanted my answer. Hell, I deserved an answer. After a few weeks of consistent conversation, why did he stop hitting me up?!
“I’m scared of you,” he admitted. “You’re a virgin. I don’t want to pressure you for sex or anything you don’t want to do. I love sex. I know myself and I know that I’ll end up hurting you.”
So since sex wasn’t going to be a part of the equation, Carlos subtracted me altogether. That’s not what friends do!
This is the part where I messed up.
Now, don’t get me wrong – I told y’all that Carlos is attractive. Very. Damn. Attractive. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about him in that way before. When you’re a lonely intern that constantly looks at steamy sex positions and relationship advice, and you’ve got six feet of delicate bone structure and chocolatey goodness that lives in the next borough over, you’re just asking for trouble. Or maybe that’s just me.
My decision about my virginity is ironclad. I do not want to give it up to someone who isn’t my husband, point blank. I’m really trying to do the right thing. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t do anything…right?
Stay tuned for part two next week!
When she’s not watching for Blue Ivy sightings or doing some serious Facebook creeping, Khalea moonlights as a print/online journalism major at the REAL HU, Howard University. Follow her on Twitter at @letsbeKHAlear, or feel free to Twatch. Whatever works for you.
[Lead image via Jason Stitt/Shutterstock]