musings on a (not so) flat chested girl -- part fifteen

After viewing The Kids Are Alright I felt re-inspired and renewed and I knew that it was time for me to leave Austin and return to Los Angeles for good. Dakota and I had a few phone conversations while I was staying with Toby and we decided to put our problems aside so I could leave town on a good note. I told Dakota about the movie that had such a profound impact on my attitude and she invited me over to her apartment so we could watch it together. I headed back to San Marcos.

I was excited about screening the film for Dakota since she didn't know much about the Who and they had been one of my favorite bands for years. When the movie started, instead of commenting on the music or the spectacle, Dakota made note of Roger Daltrey's beautiful blue eyes. She couldn't tell me enough about how she just adored blue eyes and how much they turned her on. I replied that Daltrey did indeed have pretty eyes, as it was true, and I couldn't think of much else to say since I knew the comment wasn't so much about the singer as it was about Jeremiah and his blue eyes. I sat there on the living room floor and tried to focus on the music rather than the fact that my hazel eyes and everything else about me would never live up to Jeremiah. He was Scottish, handsome, well endowed, in good shape with perfect hair and in love with her. I was none of those things. She mentioned that all of the guys she dated with the exception of Jeremiah were goofy looking guys with small dicks and that's how she liked it- as long as they were well groomed, that is, but it was of no comfort to me. She wasn't in love with any of us. She was in love with him. I decided it was a good time to confess my indiscretions with my foreign visitor and she volunteered that she had done the same with Jeremiah. He had been begging her to sleep with him for weeks and since she and I were through, she did. I didn't feel any animosity towards him or her. I had fooled around as well and they were truly meant for each other. As if to make me feel better, she told me that he didn't last long. That would have been a great thing to hear if my performance had been any better, but I hadn't done well at all since the first time we slept together. Hearing that the other guy is slightly worse in bed wasn't much of a consolation. He would sleep with her again and be better. I wouldn't.

We made plans to go out to a local bar one last time. We brought along my friend Garrick and her friend Tamara. We were all getting along, drinking cheap beers and exchanging interesting stories. Dakota managed to get some free drinks by flirting with the bartender and I was impressed even though that meant pretending she wasn't with me. Garrick got up to put some songs on the jukebox. One of the songs he chose was James Brown's "Sex Machine." He told the girls a story about a lackluster New Year's Eve party that I managed to bring to life when I put that song on the stereo. He was wrong about the song choice, but I didn't correct him, choosing instead to bask in the role of Party Saviour. The girls didn't pay much attention to the story. Instead they used the song as an excuse to talk about Dakota's ex-boyfriend Jack, the human orgasm apparatus. I had another drink.

Dakota and I headed back to her apartment later that night. Toby brought my Halliburton suitcase earlier in the day as Dakota agreed to take me to the airport in the morning. I took some pictures of Dakota with a disposable camera and she gave me a photo printout of some pictures of her as a keepsake. We talked some more about the trip, about meeting each other and how amazingly weird the whole time was and went to bed. Since it was my last night in town I wanted to have sex with her one last time. One last chance to prove my worth in bed. To prove my worth as a man. She wasn't up for it but I insisted. I begged and pleaded. I embarrassed myself on a level hereto unknown. She obliged. She wasn't into it and I felt terrible. It was over before I knew what happened so I sighed, crawled out of bed, left the bedroom and headed for her computer. I sat down to write her a letter. She wondered where I had gone and asked if anything was wrong. I said no, that I just needed to finish writing some things. I promised that she would like it. I sat in front of the screen smoking cigarette after cigarette, naked and in the dark, and typed out everything I could think of about how much she meant to me and how lucky I was to have met her during my stay. It was the only thing left I could do.

The next morning Dakota took me to the airport. The mood during the ride over was light with just a tinge of sadness, both of us thankful to have met each other while knowing the time was right to end it. When we got out of the car I gave her a hug and realized I had my sunglasses tucked in the front of my shirt so I wasn't able to give her the kind of embrace I wanted to, the one, last, real embrace we would ever have. I backed away, looked down at the mistake hanging from my shirt and we said our goodbyes.