Page 23 of Confessions of a Virgin on a Dating App
“Of course. I’ll send you directions.”
At first, I was concerned about the prospect of ending up at an unknown destination in the middle of the night when a man I barely knew. But the knot in my stomach loosened when I noticed the address was for Sparrow’s Roost Park. It was in a safe area, well-lit, and busy even deep into the night.
I wonder why he picked this place.
I drove in silence, not in the mood for music when my thoughts were already screaming in my mind. It felt so perfect, and yet it was all so fragile. The more I fell for Tristan, the more the truth about my sexual dysfunction ate away at me. It lurked in the back of my mind, reminding me that I was flawed, defective,broken.
No matter how much we enjoyed each other’s company, no matter how perfect we were for each other, it wouldn’t be enough. Because, in the end, who would want to be with a girl who couldn’t have sex?
I was nearly shaking by the time I pulled into the parking lot. My hand spasmed as I pulled the keys out of the ignition, and I took a few deep, gulping breaths to calm myself.
Maybe I should’ve put some music on. I would’ve saved my anxiety from devouring me whole.
I stepped out of my car and into the damp night air. My anxiety about sex had dissipated, but it was now replaced by Devin’s warning from earlier that day. I was suddenly aware of just how late it was, and I wondered if I was an idiot for trusting a man I’d only met twice.
I blinked a few times; my feet unsteady beneath me. Sparrow’s Roost Park was right in the middle of downtown, with the rattle of the highway humming in the distance. Even at midnight, it was well-lit with a few pedestrians meandering around.
I smiled. It was a beautiful park, one of my favorites in Orlando. It was private without being too isolated, a perfect place to chat.
He means no harm,I assured myself as I strode towards the park.Don’t let Devin get under your skin.
Tristan was waiting on a park bench, the streetlamp directly overhead bathing him in a stark white glow. As usual, his face lit up when he saw me.Something that I could easily get used to,I thought as I took a seat next to him.
“I love Sparrow’s Roost,” I remarked as we sat under the still night sky. “This was a good choice.”
“Well…” Tristan shifted in his seat. “There’s another reason why I picked this place.”
“What’s that?”
“Every time I feel stressed about life, even though I live way over in Oviedo, I come here. It’s sentimental to me. See that apartment complex way over there?” Tristan pointed in the distance at a row of quaint buildings tucked beyond the trees. “That’s where we lived after my dad passed away.”
His dad is gone.I remembered the way Tristan talked about him at the bar, and a deep pang rattled through my heart.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Honestly, don’t be,” Tristan replied. “He was diagnosed with cancer when I was a toddler. He wasn’t supposed to live past my third birthday, and yet he didn’t pass away until I was in high school. He was a fighter, living on stolen time. When he died, I mourned his loss, but I was also grateful for the time I had with him. Time that, according to the doctors, we shouldn’t have had.”
My heart hung on every word, feeling his emotions as if they were my own as he shared the more personal parts of his life with me. It made me think of my parents, alive but distant, and I decided to bare myown soul.
I told Tristan, a man I’d known for a week and seen in person twice, my life story. About how I was the daughter of two very religious parents who married at eighteen and had me at twenty. How my mother brought me to church every Sunday in beautiful dresses she sewed herself, instructing me to be on my very best behavior. How my mother worked tirelessly, day after day, to care for three children while my father remained physically and emotionally distant. How I’d never seen him wash a dish or fold a pair of pants in his life.
“I visit them once or twice a year,” I told Tristan. I wore a stony, expressionless mask as I spoke, my fingers curled into fists in my lap. I knew if I let it crack, the tears would pour out like a faucet. “But I rarely speak with them otherwise, and I avoid their calls.”
“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Tristan’s words were soft and gentle. “Trying to be your own person. I still wonder if my dad would be happy with the way I turned out.”
Tristan wrapped his arm around me, pulling me against his chest. A hint of fresh soap and evergreen lingered on his t-shirt, and I nuzzled into it, inhaling as much of the moment as I could.
The kisses came in an instant; deep, passionate, and utterly heart-melting. I didn’t care if we’d just met. I didn’t care that we were on a public park bench, at midnight, and someone could see us. At that moment, nothing else mattered. Every sense, every thought, every part of my being was wrapped up in him.
I finally broke the kiss, feeling the familiar dread of my sexual dysfunction crush me like a lead weight. This was dangerous. Not only was I falling for Tristan fast, maybetoofast, but every bit of affection was a risk. Every hug, every kiss, every touch of our bodies would always end in us wanting more.
And I was unable to provide it.
“I probably need to head home,” I noted. It was disappointing, but it was the truth. It was nearly 1 a.m., and I could feel the late hour seeping into my bones. I needed sleep, and so did Tristan.
Besides,I thought.This is a good stopping point for tonight.
One step at a time, Avery.
