Tag Archive | death

Fucking and funerals don’t mix…or do they?

nakedcoffin

Is it shameful to fuck someone after a funeral of a dear friend? What if the guy you slept with was someone she was having sex with before she died? Totally inappropriate? Who would do something like that anyway? I guess, me.

Now I am not 100% sure they were sleeping together, but I’m going to say it’s a good possibility. I know they were spending a lot of time together the past several months and according to him they went out to a concert for his birthday. He was also pretty torn up about the whole thing, and told me he had cried over her and taken off work for a week. Apparently though, he was a-okay with taking home an old friend for some hanky-panky afterwards. It remains to be seen whether or not this was a one night stand. Maybe we can chalk it up as comforting each other…right? Got any other excuses for me? :p

Let me explain how it all went down. Some of you may remember reading about this particular friend of mine because I wrote about her when I first met the Cohort. I hadn’t seen her in years, but he had met her right before he met me, through his ex girlfriend that I went to school with.

Back in the day, as teenagers, we were thick as thieves. We got into ALL sorts of trouble together. She was hilarious, always making side comments to me about the various people we came across at parties and how they were dressed or were acting. This girl could steal anything, and while that may not be a great talent to have, I’ve got to admit it was pretty impressive!

When we were young and wild and free, we would caravan from party to party with carloads of people and she always knew how to live it up! Whether we were sneaking into the neighborhood pool late at night for a skinny dip or crawling through the window of her first car because the door wouldn’t open, we were always having a good time. In some ways, her family was like mine. Her mom was a drug addict and her dad was homeless, we ran into him one day when we were volunteering at a soup kitchen and she hadn’t seen him in months. He didn’t even show up at the funeral, pretty sad.

Anyway, she was a beautiful, tall, slender, dark skinned black girl. She used to dye her hair with blue kool-aid to give it a so-black-it’s-blue sheen and was always a fashion queen. Well, unless we were at Walmart in the middle of the day- then she had no problem going in her pjs and slippers- way before it was cool, lol. Going out at night though, she was always dressed to the 9’s.

She died unexpectedly and I had no idea she was even sick. She was on my Facebook page and we had talked a few times throughout the years about getting together, but never followed through. I learned about it when the Cohort’s ex girlfriend (that worked with her) put up a go-fund-me page for her children. Devastatingly sad, especially since I know in recent years she had really put forth effort to get her life together.

The Cohort’s ex- well, that’s another story. I don’t know her personally, just knew who she was since she went to my school, but apparently he told her about me. I had no idea and didn’t want to rock the boat, so hadn’t said a thing to her at the funeral. I didn’t know until after that they had talked and he had shown her my Facebook page and she said she didn’t remember me. Awkward!

I had actually gone to the funeral alone and was a little worried that I wouldn’t know people or they wouldn’t recognize me. It had been so long since I have seen so many of the people I ran around with back in the day. Not to mention I was one of the only white people there, minus the Cohort’s ex and what looked to be her dad, plus maybe one or two others. I would definitely stand out.

Thankfully, the minute I walked in the door I was bombarded with hugs, first by the guy I am about to tell you all about and then by a group of girls that I used to run with. They said they had just been talking about me! It was funny, because there WERE some people I knew that barely recognized me, but there were others that remembered me and I couldn’t tell you for the life of me who they were, even after they identified themselves. Even one girl I thought didn’t like me, was super friendly. Whew!

One of the girls that had been super tight with my friend and I invited me back to her table and we got a chance to talk and reminisce a little bit. The whole function was supposed to be more of a joyful celebration of life than sadness, as her body had already been cremated and everyone wanted to remember the good stuff. No funeral clothing allowed and there was a DJ (also an old friend- he says I look like I am still 18, lol) and dancing and a bar.

So anyway, the guy. He was an old friend of mine, but we had never had sex. I’m really not sure why, as I am pretty sure I was banging most of his friends and he’s always been nice looking. He was on the football team and I vaguely remember him being pretty well known for that- he played on some international team in Australia and got paid for it when we were older. He’s got a stocky muscular build and I thought was shorter than me back when, but he’s not anymore.

He’s been on my Facebook and I had recently seen that he was at the same concert I went to with the Boring guy. He had to have been sitting almost just behind me because we both posted videos and you could see some of the same people in them. I had commented on one of his posts that I was there too!

Also, one of the guys I talked to off Tinder (but never met up with) is someone that worked with him. The guy had seen that we were mutual friends and asked him about me. So first thing when I walked in the door, he gave me a big hug and said his friend had told him we talked and that he had told the guy I was a “good girl”.

Yeah…I’m not so sure about that, haha, as I’m sure he has to remember some of my escapades- I’m pretty sure he was there WATCHING me fuck a couple of other guys on a picnic table once at the park and another time that we had snuck into a swimming pool locker room late at night. He was pretty good friends with the two guys I wrote about having threesomes with all the time- they both played on the football team with him. I swear I didn’t do the whole football team, lol, I mean, I didn’t do him, right? 😉

Seriously though, I still can’t figure out why I didn’t fuck him. He claims he had a huge crush on me but kept quiet about it and that he has wanted me for 20 years. I’m guessing that’s a smooth line he’s using on all the women these days, but who knows? He was definitely running around with the crew, though he says he was in a group home at the time (which I never knew) so maybe that helped keep him out of some of the stuff we were getting into. I know he was no angel either though.

We didn’t hang out a lot after that initial talk at the funeral, but when I walked out to my vehicle 3 hours later, he was also getting ready to leave. He came up to talk and asked if I wanted to go out to dinner. We exchanged numbers and I agreed to meet him up closer to the city, since we both live up here now.

He was making me laugh as we drove off from the funeral because he was pulling up next to me in his BMW, pretending to hit on me with the windows down. He was like “hey baby, what’s your name?” every time we hit a stoplight or he passed by.

I met him back at his house first, because he wanted to drive together (nice play, haha). I was a little surprised that it wasn’t as nice as I thought, considering the area where he lives and that I know he has a good job at a car dealership. He said he owns the home, but it is a duplex and he lives with his autistic cousin. According to him he has a few other houses as well, that he “used” to use for nefarious purposes, but that he is not doing that now.

He answered the door in his boxers and apologized for it (yeah right, lol). He was surprised that I don’t smoke pot anymore (clearly he still does) but got dressed and took me out to a nice place for Thai food. He warned me that the staff might be super happy to see him and sure enough the hostess was all excited but looked embarrassed for my sake, and apologized to me, thinking I was his girlfriend.

I really didn’t care, but she seemed to feel it was awkward. Actually, he had ASKED me in the car if I wanted to be his girlfriend. I was kind of taken aback because it seemed so soon but he says he feels like we have known each other forever so its really not that weird. I said “maybe” but that I didn’t want to commit to anything yet and he said that’s fine, we could be friends too but he hopes I will change my mind.

Over dinner and drinks he told me about how he has tons of money now and spends a lot of time traveling. He claimed he wants to take me, and maybe my kids, on vacations with him. He said “Daddy’s ballin now baby, I can get you whatever you want”. He even offered to get me a new car, since he goes to auctions all the time and said that I wouldn’t have to pay him back. Yeah, he was promising the moon and stars, lol. 😉

We stopped by a liquor store on the way back and grabbed some wine. He drove super fast and parked in the handicapped space. He said he never gets tickets because the police all know who he is. The full moon was out and he made a comment about it being a blue moon. I made a comment about our outing being “once in a blue moon” and he begged me for it not to be that. He asked me to please say I will keep seeing him!

When we got back to the house and had drinks, it wasn’t long before he was trying to get on top of me. Only, I was really trying NOT to fuck him that night. I was on the tail end of my period and hadn’t shaved for like 2 days. It wasn’t that bad, but I hadn’t been planning to have sex.

So it ended up being kind of like high school all over again. He’s on me on the couch and saying things like “I won’t put it in, I promise, I’ll just rub NEXT to it”. Yeah, we all know how that ends, sort of like “I’ll just put in the tip baby, that’s it”. I put up a bit of a protest, but we eventually got to it. At one point, before we actually had sex, I could see his roommate was peeking through the door, so we got up and went to his bedroom.

Afterwards, I had to get home but he kept saying he wanted me to stay and trying to get me to promise to come back. We will see if he really means all that though, I’ve only heard from him a couple of times since, and it has been short. I wonder if it really was a blue moon, post funeral, pump and dump. Only time will tell.

He had mentioned that he was going to this housewarming party for another friend of ours later in the week. This guy happens to be one of the ones I used to have threesomes with and he lives just down the road from him, but is apparently married now. He was joking about bringing me along as his date and seeing everyone’s reaction. He didn’t mention it again though and I saw pics of it all on Facebook- there were a lot of people I knew there. I’m sure some of them will hear about our rendezvous…just like in high school, lol. 😉 :p

The ghosts of guys in the past

He stood at the foot of the bed, looking especially handsome with his shirt off, leaning in towards me, talking in a hushed tone of voice. I lay on the bed, waiting for him to finish undressing. I hadn’t seen him in years but it felt so right to be doing this again. We smiled at each other and kissed, me wrapping my arms around his neck, before there was a knock at the door. He got up, walking past the long wooden chest that sat against the wall. The size and shape reminded me of a casket. I looked out the second story window and down at the people milling about on the lawn below. Friends we’d partied with when we were younger were drinking and talking amongst a sea of unfamiliar faces.

The knocking became more intense and the door opened a crack. Someone was being very persistent, and trying to rattle and push the door open. “WAIT, I’m not ready yet!” shouted my friend, pushing back up against the door, but the guy on the other side wouldn’t let up. It was then that I realized he had a gun. The struggle continued with both men pushing against the door in opposite directions, then…

BANG!!!! I shot up in bed. My body was shaking, tears streaming down my cheeks. I hadn’t thought about him in years. It had been at least a decade since we’d seen each other and my life was so different. Why now? Why would I have a dream about HIM, of all people? Not that we’d ever had any kind of fight or argument, he just hadn’t so much as crossed my mind in ages.

My part- time minister husband was working his regular job that night and not at home. It was hard for me to fall back asleep in the dark. My mind was swimming with memories and questions. Had God awoken me with a dream like that for a reason? Was I supposed to pray for this guy, and the people I had known in the past? Maybe that was it. I buried my face in the pillow, trying to pray, trying to quell my racing heart and the feeling of fear that I couldn’t shake.

Two days later my sister called me. Had I heard about what happened? The guy in my dream had been killed two days before. Shot, at a party, and then beaten with the gun. All the people there had scattered, and left him to die alone. According to my calculations he would have been laying there, on the verge of death at the approximate time of my dream. It happened in a second story apartment. Chills ran through my body as his voice echoed in my ears “WAIT, I’m not ready yet!”

At the time of his death he was 28 years old. My mind flashed back to moments in the past. The time when I’d been sitting on the curb with him after his sister died. He was drunk and trying to call her on the cordless phone. It’s the only time I’d ever seen him break down and cry. He’d told me then that he knew he’d never live to be 30 and I kept telling him to stop saying that but he insisted it was true. He said he wanted to get out of the lifestyle he was living, the parties, the chaos and I asked him why he didn’t just ask everyone to leave now and he said he couldn’t do it.

Years before he’d said the same thing. We were lying in bed after having sex and I was imploring him to tell me what he wanted to do with his future. “Are you going to go to college?” I asked and he’d responded that there would be no point since he knew he’d never live to be 30. Unconvinced, I insisted that it didn’t have to be that way, that he shouldn’t give up and he relented and said he’d probably go to community college.

I wanted to attend his funeral but couldn’t. My ex-husband thought I should forgo all contact with the people of the past and that even thinking or talking about it was “glorifying Satan” and quite possibly tempting myself to return to my former sinful ways. Plus a wake was an evil Catholic concoction that was simply an excuse for drinking alcohol. I grieved in silence. My sister, who had only known him in passing, went with her then boyfriend and reported back to me. She kept me updated on the news the papers failed to report, the underground word on the street, the fact that he’d had large amounts of cocaine coursing through his veins and a recent drug deal under his belt at the time of his death.

I have to wonder what that dream really meant. Was he still alive when I dreamt it? Was he lying on the floor dying, his life flashing before his eyes and somehow I crossed his mind? Did he come to me for a reason, after his death? If so, why me? I’ve had many dreams that were eerily prophetic but that was one of the most vivid and real I have ever experienced.

What’s funny is that he and I were never what I’d really call “close”. We’d had sex on quite a few occasions, maybe a dozen times, but it was far from a “relationship”. More like fuck buddies and we were relatively emotionally distant from one another. Still I’d spent quite a bit of time around him and at his house, sleeping with other people and sometimes he was there with other girls too. Neither one of us cared or was jealous or bothered by it at all.

He was the quintessential “alpha male” of the pack. The guy everyone looked up to and respected as a leader. His house was the center for many of the wilder get-togethers and parties of my youth. He was also the biggest manwhore I have ever met! Upon his death he had at least 6 or 7 known children with different women, one of my sister’s friends was pregnant with his baby and another friend of mine had a teenage daughter that he never even knew belonged to him. I honestly think he had sex with at LEAST 2/3 of the females I knew in high school. LOL

I can trace many of my more debase sexual experiences back to him, though I hold no grudges. He was never mean and as someone described him in a newspaper after his death, was “always debonair with the ladies”. I even remember once walking into a room at his house, when it was full of people, and finding him sitting on the end of the bed, watching his 10 year old sister sleep. He said there was no way he was letting any of these guys near her and was determined to protect her. Unfortunately he was unable to protect her from her own untimely death at the age of 13, which was truly heartbreaking.

It’s funny how the people of the past and the experiences you have with them shape the person you are today. Every person I have had sex with, even the one night stands, hold some kind of meaning in my life. Granted there is at least one on my written list that I can’t remember who the hell he was for the life of me, but overall we become a compilation of those we’ve had sexual relations with. It defines how we ourselves become in bed.

The guy I mentioned above once asked me who was the best in bed out of all the guys I’d slept with (or more specifically out of the ones I’d slept with that he knew personally, aka “his boys”, lol). He begged me to be totally honest and tell the truth, so I did. Even though I knew he wanted me to say it was him I told him what I really thought, and that was someone else, his best friend. He took it well and didn’t get upset. Another friend of mine thought he was the best in bed ever, but I just didn’t. To me the sex was mediocre, yet there are a lot of things I never would have experienced had it not been for him.

I think the people in our pasts, like it or not, will always haunt us, whether it be for good or bad. Sure, we can rid ourselves of a lot of unwanted baggage but the skeletons are still there in the closet, the memories that hide within popping out on us in moments we never expected. One guy will do something that reminds me of someone else. We pick people that have mannerisms or sexual behaviors that are similar to those we enjoyed in the past. From that we develop a “type” and some of us are very true to that. There are things I expect from men that maybe other women don’t and kinks I’ve developed in bed that are carried over from other lovers. It’s interesting how it all works out.

I wonder sometimes if it isn’t easier for those who are virgins until they find “the one” and stay together forever because they haven’t had those ghosts to live up to. Yet at the same time I wouldn’t trade the experiences that I’ve had because then I would never have discovered so many turn-ons that I enjoy now. It takes awhile to really develop a knowledge for what YOU want sexually and that realization would be hard to come to without trial and error. In any case, I’m ever growing as a sexual being, even now and thoroughly enjoying the process, even when it involves Ghostbusting! lol 😉