My week with Mikey
I could never bring myself to call him Mikey although that
is what he wanted me to call him. He was a co-worker who came through my
register to ask me out on a date, and requested “Mikey” after I inquired about
calling him Michael or Mike. Mikey just seemed to personal to me, and made me
feel like his mother which was called for since I was 24 years his senior. He
was 23 years old, but would be 24 in October he made sure I knew.
What did I see in Mikey? At first not much when I started
the job 45 days earlier. I saw him as a young kid, who barely would reply to my
“hi, how are you?” questions. Then one day, I saw him staring at my back side
as I was facing condiments. That was all it took. I was smitten. I then spent
anytime I had alone with him flirting.
Mikey was short. He couldn’t have been more than 5’4’ as I
was taller then him at 5’4.1/2.’ I have never dated anyone that short, 5’9” was
the smallest man I had dated to this point, and I thought that was short. What
did I see in Mikey? Besides his incredible good looks, thick brown hair, and
thin yet muscular frame, he was a bad boy. He was into heavy metal with a fuck
you type attitude blended with a sensitive side. Specifically he like symphonic
metal which combined famous symphonic arrangements with a heavy metal beat. He
was emotional yet stoic. The perfect combination, I thought.
When I look back, my main motivation for dating Mikey was
sexual. You see, I hadn’t had sex in 5 ½ years. My last partner was an over
controlling, Iranian fiancé, who I asked to leave after all efforts at making
our relationship work had been exhausted. I had recently relocated to this new
resort town from the city, lost weight, and had a libido in over drive. Mikey
fit the bill.
On our first date, I learned about his sweet sensitive side,
about the love of his life who slept with his best friend, and got pregnant. He
even asked her to marry him, thinking the child was his until his best friend
set him straight and she ended up terminating the pregnancy. His best friend
tried to reassure him that this person was just a girl and therefore an object
and he needn’t be so concerned, but Mikey retorted, “she wasn’t an object to
me.” This was endearing to me, as it showed me he could really love someone. He
even crashed his bike a short time later in a drunken ride that ended with him
losing four of his front teeth.
Mikey was quick to point out that girls tended to get
together with him so that they could get closer to his friends. He said that
girls were more interested in “bad boys” and not him. What I later found out
was that Mikey was a “bad boy” too, he just did not have that perception of
himself.
The last time I slept with him, he told me he wanted to date
other girls to see where the relationship would possibly go. I prompted this
honesty after I told him that he had better never lie to me or be dishonest in
anyway. I thanked him for being honest, then told him I would drive him home.
Oh yeah, Mikey lived with his father, got around on a BMX bike, and still lived
in his childhood room, complete with bunk beds, heavy metal band posters, and
naked women on the walls. His electric guitars were close by for serenading
purposes. Boy did that work on me.
Working together made
the break up more difficult. I was at first mad at his revelation that he
wanted to date other girls, and chalked it up to my age. But I now realize it
really wasn’t my age, but the fact that I wasn’t the bad girl he wanted me to
be.. He inquired why I didn’t have tattoos, wasn’t shaved properly, and
ultimately he didn’t like that I was nice to him. I was not what he wanted. I
was a good girl, or at least a “classy’ girl as he called me. I guess being an
atheist, misanthrope, and malcontent, was not bad enough for him. He wanted the
outward appearance of badness, a look that he had cultivated.
There were many signs of his discontent with our short
relationship. The day after our first date in which we slept together, but did
not have sex (I was on my period), was an obvious sign. I grabbed him playfully
at work on the side, and he cringed and acted irritated by it. He later
apologized at my register and said he was just hung over. What about the times
he did not call me back or text me when he said he would, or text me rather than
call me when declining an invitation to dinner. Why did his father suddenly
tell him we could no longer have sex in his house? There were many signs of his
ambivalence towards me, but I liked him.
Can Mikey and I ever be friends? We never started out as friends,
only lovers. Men have an unspoken rule, that they can never be friends with a
woman they find attractive or any woman for that matter since they always want
to have sex with her. I can now relate to that saying. How can I be friends
with someone who I want to make mad passionate love to?
When he left work yesterday, I saw him through the window of
the store sitting on his BMX bike with a lit cigarette protruding from his
mouth. He was wearing a t-shirt complete with skull and crossbones, and his aviator
glasses. Why did this look get me so excited? He was a boy on a bike, riding
home to his father’s house after only a week’s love affair. This love went
against every ounce of reason, rationality, tradition, and common sense I had.
Did this prove that women really are attracted to bad boys, defying all
intellectual capacity? Was this just a case of a hurt ego, after all I wasn’t
enough to keep him from longing for other women? It couldn’t be a case of love
after only a week.
I now have decided to be friends with a man, before I sleep
with him. I want to be attracted to his mind as well as his persona. Of course,
this could end as well, but at least I will have something to talk to him about
when it is over. Mikey and I have to suffer through uncomfortable silences, as
we never had a strong foundation to start the relationship off with. We were
never friends, and lacked similar interests. He liked to drink, smoke pot, and
was an avid survivalist. I was having a mid-life crisis, trying to get healthy and
find meaning in my life. We were mis-matched from the beginning, but boy was he
sexy. I don’t regret the affair. We had good sex for a week, and it felt good.
My libido is satisfied for the moment, and I hope my next affair will transcend
the libido. Maybe Mikey, the bad boy, was needed at this moment in my life to
make me feel young, appreciate sex again, and for arousing latent feelings in
me again. He did just that, and I thank him for it.