Kiss of Death

The week of my birthday, Max had once again drifted into silence. We hadn't made any concrete plans for my birthday, but he had said that he would be more than happy to give me boyfriend treatment on my special day. As the days ticked by, I started to get a little annoyed. Why was it so hard for him to respond to a text? It wasn't like I was asking for 100% of his attention 24/7; I just wanted to be a priority in his life. Had I become so desperate to have a man care about me that I was willing to romanticize breadcrumbing?

One night, after a few glasses of wine, I was feeling empowered and sassy, so I sent him a Facebook message. I asked if we were doing something for my birthday; if not, I'd make other plans. In my mind, it was the perfect combination of casual aloofness and cunty calling him out. I'd decided that I was going to go see J.Lo's movie musical debut, Kiss of the Spider Woman; with or without him. I've been a huge fan of J.Lo's since I'd first seen Selena when I was seven or eight. What better way to ring in my birthday in a boring town than to go support one of my queens?

I sent him the trailer on Snapchat, saying I wanted to go see it with him for my birthday. Within a minute or so, he replied. He said that he would love to, but he was broke and couldn't afford to do anything. I told him that I was more than happy to pay this time, since he'd paid the last time that we'd gone on a date. He said he would feel like a piece of shit having me pay on my birthday, but I assured him that I really didn't mind. For me, I explained, relationships are about reciprocity and equality. In the end, he grudgingly agreed.

That Friday, my boss asked me to come into work a few hours early so that he could run to get supplies. I didn't want to, but I definitely needed the money, and my boss had been so amazingly good to me that I never wanted to tell him no. It was dead when I got in and there was a whole pizza left over from the school lunch that we couldn't sell. I decided to box it up and bring it to the gas station. I knew that Max would most likely be there; it would be the first time I'd seen him in over a week, since I'd gone over to his house to dry my clothes.

I didn't see him when I walked in, and I felt anxiety creeping in. Aside from Sexy Daddy Justin -- who no longer worked there -- Max was the only employee I had any sort of relationship with. The guy at the counter was cute. His nails were painted black, there was a choker around his slim neck, and his hair was tied back into a ponytail. If it weren't for Max, I might have tried to get to know him, see if something could happen there. Of course, I'd have to have the dreaded awkward initial interaction first. No one is going to turn down free pizza, I told myself. Just explain that we weren't allowed to sell it anymore per health code, but that it's perfectly safe to eat. As I made my way to the counter, Max came out from the back, a literal beacon of hope.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, jovially, a smile lighting up his face.

"I had to go into work early. We can't sell this anymore, so I thought I'd bring it to you guys." I held the pizza box out. "Half of it is pepperoni, the other half is bacon."

"Aw, I appreciate you," he said, taking the box from my hands. He set it on the counter and immediately the other guy dug in, taking a slice of bacon and biting into it.

"You know me," I joked, leaning against the counter. "I have to take care of my boys."

We started talking and Max mentioned that the parking lot of his apartment complex was currently torn up. "So how am I going to pick you up on Sunday?" I asked, feeling the anxiety creep back in. It doesn't take much for me to start panicking.

"I'll have to meet you at the road," he replied.

"Nah, you can just walk to my apartment," I joked, ever the diva.

"I mean, I will. By the way, I don't know what time that movie's at, but I have to work that day. I tried to get the day off, but my boss is having surgery, so my request got denied."

"You were going to take the day off for me?" I asked, touched. Considering how badly he needed the money, it meant the world to me that he was willing to miss out on the hours just for me. In lieu of a tangible gift, it was the perfect way to show that he cared.

"For your birthday, yeah." I wanted to jump across the counter and kiss him, but I fought the urge. He wasn't out at work, and even though he often went to work with his nails painted, his brown eyes ringed in black eyeliner, and a heart drawn on his cheek, I didn't want to be the one to officially out him, In our small town, the locals did not take too kindly to others who weren't straight, white men. I doubt he'd get fired for kissing me at work, but out of respect, I kept myself in check.

"The movie's at 7:30," I replied, burying the feelings. I don't normally like kissing, but when it's with someone I have an attachment to, I become kind of obsessed.

"I'll be out at 6. That'll give me time to get home and get ready."

"Perfect. And I can hopefully sleep in." I'm not sure why, but for some reason, on Sundays -- my Saturday -- I tend to wake up even earlier than I would during the work week. As much as I like sleeping, you'd think that I'd be out half the day, but no. Conversely, on Mondays, I have been known to sleep until at least five in the afternoon.

I remembered that I was technically on the clock, so I said that I should head out. "I'll go with you, take the trash out," Max said. I figured that this would be an excuse to hit his vape, walk me to my car, and kiss me.

I followed him out to the dumpster, teasing him about how since he couldn't afford to get me a birthday present, he should have Sexy Daddy Justin come over naked. Truthfully, I would not have been upset it if were possible, but SDJ was allegedly straight, so he'd have to stay a series regular in my dirty fantasies.

While walking back to the store, I didn't notice that there was a dip in the parking lot. I lurched forward and to stabilize myself, my hand flew out and smacked Max's tit.

"Are you okay?" he asked with genuine concern that was very touching. I've never claimed that I'm not dramatic, but that had thrown me off.

"Yeah, I just didn't see that dip. God, in public, really? How embarrassing!" I moaned, wanting to crawl into my jacket and run.

"It's okay. No one saw it, you're okay."

"You saw it," I whimpered, keeping my head low in shame.

"I'm not going to judge you."

We made our way back to the store, but then he stopped in the doorway. "I should get back in. I'll talk to you later. I'll text you."

I was disappointed that he wasn't going to kiss me. Yes, I'd have liked him to walk me to my car, but more than that, I had wanted a kiss, some sign that he actually liked me as more than a friend. Instead, I just nodded and said, "Okay, bye."

I woke up on Sunday around two o'clock in the afternoon; later than I normally sleep in on a Sunday. I guess the universe knew that it was my birthday and had deemed it appropriate for me to at least sleep in until the time I normally woke up to start getting ready for work. Half awake, I stumbled to my writing desk, wishing I could have a cup of coffee. I had a carton of International Delight Vanilla Iced Coffee in my fridge, but the last thing I wanted to contest with on our date was my embarrassing stomach issues. Instead, I responded to a text from my mother, not really knowing what she was even talking about. I have never woken up well in the sense that I'm not a morning person, or any time-of-day person, actually. No matter how much I sleep, I always wake up groggy and irritable. I did feel a twinge of joy as I remembered that Max had texted me at midnight to wish me a happy birthday. It was even more special to me because I knew that when he had the boys, he couldn't stay up as late as he would have liked. He'd stayed up for me.

Before I knew it, my mom was calling me so that my brother could wish me a happy birthday. We got to talking and the hours zoomed by. While we talked I straightened my hair, did my makeup, and brushed my teeth. I wanted to be ready by the time Max got home so that I wouldn't have to stress about running late or anything. As it turned out, he was ready to go on schedule, and I was able to pick him up with plenty of time to get to the theater. I knew that having kids, especially young kids, sometimes made it difficult to manage time; this must have meant enough to him that he made sure to get everything done in time. We'd get to the theater about twenty minutes early; I was hoping we'd have time to run into Walmart quickly so that I could grab a few things. I knew his grandmother was watching the boys, so I didn't want to keep him out too late.

As I pulled up in front of Max's apartment building, I saw him standing up on the walkway in a burgundy sweater. He must have recognized my car, because he immediately started descending the stairs. As he got into the car, he said, "happy birthday!" which made me smile.

"Thanks," I replied, watching him settle into the passenger seat. He had his usual makeup on; he looked cute. I had opted for my new white and black Armani dress shirt, with a pair of Karl Lagerfeld jeans and my Tommy Hilfiger dress boots. It was chilly out, so I'd brought along my purple flannel coat, a replica of the one that Carrie Bradshaw wore in an episode of the second season of And Just Like That...

"Are you having a good birthday so far?" he asked, fastening his seatbelt.

"Not bad." I shrugged. "As soon as I woke up, my mom called me. We talked for over four hours."

"And how was that?"

"It was fine. I haven't seen her in four years. It's not uncommon for us to spend hours on the phone." I turned and have him a devilish grin. "You're in the car with me and it's my birthday, that means you have to listen to the new Taylor Swift album!"

"Oh, God." He chuckled. "I've heard so many bad things about it. Does she really compare Travis's dick to a Redwood tree?"

"It's a great album!" I exclaimed, rolling my eyes. I used to be a Taylor Swift hater, but her Folklore album had turned me into a forever fan. It seemed to me that no matter what she did, Taylor was pissing somebody off. When she wrote about her relationships, people complained that all she did was write whiny breakup songs; if she was happy, people complained that she was writing story songs, or was a billionaire and needed to stop making music. "And for the record, she does not compare his dick to a Redwood tree," I said. "Well, not exactly. The line is ' Forgive me/it sounds cocks/ He ah-matized me/ And opened my eyes/ Redwood tree/ It ain't hard to see/ His love was the key/That opened my thighs.' She does refer to it as a magic wand, though, and a hard rock. I bet Travis does have a great dick, though. He's so hot. I'd let him hit. People just don't like to see her happy."

As we got into town, I decided that we should do all the shopping after the movie. Thankfully, as we walked in, we didn't get laughed at this time; not that I would have particularly cared if people laughed at me for my couture. I couldn't help but remember the previous winter when I'd gone to Walmart wearing a white cableknit beanie, a white cableknit sweater, and an oversized white puffer jacket that looked like a comforter. Some kids had laughed at me, but I'd side-eyed their Walmart brand clothes and kept walking.

When we sat down in the theater, I was pleased to see that we were all alone. I prefer empty theaters, that way I don't have to listen to other people coughing, or kids laughing obnoxiously loudly. The best part, to me, was that we would be able to talk if we wanted to without disturbing the other theatergoers.

I went into Kiss of the Spider Woman knowing virtually nothing about it, other than that it was an Argentinean novel, turned into a film, then a Broadway musical, and now a movie musical based off of the Broadway play. I had read online that the director had decided to cut all of the 'real-world' musical numbers. but had kept the 'fantasy' numbers. I figured it would be similar to the movie musical adaption of Chicago with Renee Zellweger, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and Richard Gere, at least in that aspect.

Not too far into the movie, both of us were confused about what was happening, so we focused less on the movie and instead joked around and cuddled. At one point, I got a picture of us snuggling up to each other that was going to look perfect on my bedside stand -- except for the fact that Max had his eyes closed.

"I feel bad that I couldn't get you anything," Max said, holding my hand tightly in his.

"You're here, that's enough. Besides," I teased, "there's always a Clone-A-Willy. I'd pay for it."

"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not doing that again."

"Again?" I asked, arching an eyebrow questioningly.

"I made one for one of my exes. When we broke up, she kept it. It may or may not have been in her next boyfriend's ass."

"What?" I exclaimed, laughing. "That's insane!"

"She told me that her new boyfriend liked things in his ass; she kept the dildo of my cock..."

"To be fair, for me, it wouldn't actually be that bad."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, as you know I'm an anal virgin. I would feel awful if we went to have sex and I bitched out and made you stop because it hurt too much or whatever."

I had never had a boyfriend before, so I'd never had a serious discussion about losing my anal virginity. The few hookups I had had over the years were mostly oral, but when it came to sex, I topped. I believed that in a relationship, it should be 50/50. Max was an anal virgin, too. The idea of even discussing the possibility of something going in my ass made me embarrassed, but it was a reality that potentially awaited me with Max. Deep down I thought that it would be quite romantic for us to both lose our virginity to each other.

"Yeah?"

"So, if you happened to make me a Clone-A-Willy of your cock...I could practice with it and get used to it. Your cock is pretty big."

"Maybe..."

"Not that it's all about sex or anything. I'm not pressuring you, I'd just want you to have a good time."

"Honestly, I'm not that big into sex," he admitted, making my mouth fall open.

From all of the stories he'd told me of his sexual exploits, I'd have thought that it would be a favorite pastime of his. I knew that he'd said that he'd learned not to seek validation from his skills in bed, but, I wondered, didn't it feel good? He hadn't done anything with a man yet...maybe I could be the one to change his mind. I'm not a sexaholic, but if I were in a serious, committed relationship, I would definitely want to have sex regularly.

Toward the end of the movie, I mentioned that my mom had told me to take Imodium before I left the house so that I wouldn't have to worry about any tummy issues on my date. I pointed out that we hadn't planned on dinner, but that I was starting to get very hungry. Lately, I'd been doing twenty-four hour fasts twice a week -- on Wednesdays and Sundays -- but since I'd had a lighter dinner the night before -- a bowl of cereal and some granola bars -- I was ravenous by eight o'clock that night. Max said that we could stop and get food, but he wasn't going to eat, since he was broke. I bullied him into agreeing to get Burger King with me. After all, what are pseudo-boyfriends for if they can't buy dinner for each other?

I mentioned how much I was looking forward to It: Welcome to Derry. "Pennywise is so cool!" I gushed, "and sexy daddy Bill Skarsgard could definitely get it." Sure, I thought that Bill's brother Alex was even hotter, but I definitely would not kick either of them out of my bed. My mom had always been reading Stephen King novels when I was growing up; we shared a love of It in particular.

"Do you have, like, a clown fetish?" Max asked jokingly.

"No, why?"

"Hisoka, Buggy the Clown, Pennywise..."

"I think clowns are really cool. It's not a sex thing, I promise!"

"Mhmmm."

"Would you dress up like Pennywise for me if I did?" I teased, leaning in close so that my head bumped his shoulder.

"I am not having sex dressed like Pennywise."

His smile was illuminated by the movie on the screen. One of the things that I loved the most about Max was his smile. He had great teeth, white and even; knowing that I had been the one to put the smile on his face made me feel good.

"Oh, come on! It could be really hot!"

"Does the big forehead do it for you?"

"Of course. What if we turned your dick into Pennywise? If your dick head is big, it could work."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Maybe."

I liked that we were able to be silly with each other. I was terrified of what I would do if I connected with someone romantically who was serious. I didn't think it would get that far if the guy didn't have a good sense of humor, but who knew? My twisted sense of humor was a huge part of my personality. I was overly sensitive about being judged, though, because most of my schoolyears had been fraught with bullying: I was the weird kid, the gay kid; I was teased for everything from the mullet my mom had made me have until I was seven to the blue and gold hair gel I used to try to style my hair in middle school. It wasn't until high school that I had actually gotten to just enjoy school; that's probably why I thought back on high school so fondly and dreamed about it often. I wish I could have been the me that I was now back then; my time in high school would have been ever better.

We left the theater not hating the movie, but not really sure what had happened. I probably should have read the book first, but the copy I'd bought from a used bookstore online hadn't come yet; there'd been nothing else playing that I'd wanted to see on my birthday. I did joke with him that the real ending of the movie was the music video for J.Lo's song "Booty." He'd jokingly expressed disdain that J.Lo had not thrown ass at all in the movie.

We ran into Walmart quickly, but I ended up buying more than I needed: Sabrina Carpenter's newest album Man's Best Friend, a Wicked mug, and two new towels, since I was out. I also picked up a few cheap cups for work for the employees to use; the boss's mom didn't want us wasting the Styrofoam cups that were reserved for customers.

At Burger King, I was pleased to learn that Max's order was identical to mine, except he didn't add cheese to his Whopper. I'd forgotten that he was lactose-intolerant. I hoped that we would still be able to kiss, because the only time that I really felt comfortable in Max's affections for me was when we were kissing.

Max had told his grandmother he'd be home by 10:30, but we were in Meijer then, so I hurried. I didn't want to get him into trouble, and I certainly didn't want his grandmother to be mad at me; it was nice of her to watch the boys for him so that we could go out.

It was 11:30 when I pulled up to his apartment building. The usual spot I parked in was taken, so I'd had to go down a few. There were a few people out front of their apartment smoking, watching us. "I hope your grandma isn't mad," I said, throwing the car into park. I didn't want the date to be over, but I understood that he had other obligations. The fact that he had made time for me at all would have to be enough.

"It's fine. The boys are already asleep," he assured me, his hand frozen on the door handle. "I'd kiss you, but I don't want those people to see. They're super nosy."

"I get it, I don't like being watched either. Do you want me to pull into a different spot?"

"Yeah."

I pulled into a handicapped parking spot, but figured it wouldn't be an issue, since I was only staying for a minute, tops. Max turned to me, his hand cupping my jaw. "Did you have a good time?" he asked gently.

Normally, I'd deflect and ask him if he had had a good time, but I was trying to be better about my bad habits. "I had a great time. Did you have a good time?" I replied.

"Of course. I had a lot of fun." He leaned in and kissed me, and the world stopped again. I had never been kissed on my birthday, certainly not by a guy that I sort of liked. To me, it was magical.

Max got out of the car and waved. "Happy birthday!" he said again, smiling at me. I watched him go up the stairs and then step into his grandma's apartment.

I felt good about the day and our relationship as a whole. Obviously, we still weren't official, but the spark was definitely there for me, and I felt pretty strongly that it was there for Max as well. It would take time -- and patience -- but I felt like we could get there. No man had ever gone to such lengths to ensure that I had a good birthday before; that meant the world to me. His birthday wasn't until the end of June, which gave me plenty of time to return the favor and plan something amazing. Maybe I'd be able to quieten my driving anxiety and take us -- and the boys -- to the Tridge in Midland. I'd been there once before and had fallen in love. It was a sort of park/three-way bridge that I'd always longed to go back to with a special guy.

When I got home, I poured myself a glass of Pink Moscato and climbed into bed. I went back through my camera and found the picture of Max and I. Normally, I hated how I look in photos, but I thought I looked pretty decent in that one: happy, healthy. I sent it to Max with the caption "You're a good pretend boyfriend."

That night, as I performed my yearly birthday ritual of watching the season four premiere of Sex and the City: the iconic episode where for a myriad of reasons, Carrie's friends were unable to make it to the birthday dinner they'd organized for her. Despondent, Carrie had had to pay for her own birthday cake -- which she'd promptly dropped on Fifth Avenue. In the end, the fabulous foursome had met at their coffee shop and Charlotte had given the iconic "Maybe we could be each other's soul mates," speech. This time, however, when Carrie -- now thirty-five, the same age as me -- cried that "it felt really sad... not to have a man in my life who cares about me. No special guy to wish me happy birthday. No goddamn soulmate...and I don't even know if I believe in soul mates..." I rejoiced that for once, this wasn't true. I did have a man in my life who cared about me, a special guy to wish me happy birthday. It had been a hell of battle, but I'd finally achieved what for me had seemed the unachievable. At the end of the episode when Mr. Big showed up and gave Carrie balloons, I'd pictured them as Max and myself. I was giddy.

For the first time in a long time, the future looked bright, like things might finally go my way. I promised myself that no matter what happened next between Max and I, I would not take him or this light at the end of the tunnel for granted. I had turned a few guys down to stay true to Max, to pursue him wholeheartedly; I did not regret my decision. I truly felt like Max was better than anything else that was being offered to me. Maybe, just maybe, I had found a guy worth falling for.