Down ass chick: a girl that is not high maintenance, she’s down for whatever and doesn’t complain when you hang with the boys. ride or die chick.Hey man, the girl I’m dating is a down ass chick.– Urban Dictionary
I had sex with my best friend in the world on the Fourth of July. At a party, drinking whiskey shots like no big deal and knocking back beers while the men grilled huge slabs of meat. MERICA! I wore a tiny white tank top, bright blue shorts and red lipstick which was ruined before 9 pm. My best goddamn friend. This is the man who I’ve denied having feelings for in the past and apparently, well, I do. He isn’t around a lot since he splits his time between his apartment here and his family’s house in northern NH where he cares for the estate and his father who has cancer. He’s easily the best man I know. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could just call off the search and be with him, someone who knows me so well, who’d never hurt me?
The dude I mentioned here had asked me out and I was intrigued. So bad with the fake names so we’ll have to call him BV so I don’t get confused. He was adorably earnest – “when can I take you out?” and on the night before the Fourth, he told me he took his five year old niece to the fireworks. The way he described her was so freaking adorable. He spells things correctly and uses punctuation. It’s so sexy.
So go out we did – met for beers at a bar near my work yesterday evening when I got out. It was probably our first actual conversation that wasn’t didn’t take place around a fax machine, which we both laughed about. Apparently we had always found the other attractive but it’s so hard in work mode sometimes. “You faxing this paper?” “Yeah. You too?” Also he’d had a girlfriend and I’d had a boyfriend. He moved to Durham, North Carolina with her last year. She cheated on him. He found out, packed a Budget truck and came back home. Is temporarily living with parents. Turns out he’s funny and sweet. He’s “Irish as hell” and has a mop of wavy dark blond hair, cute freckles and a nice beard, which is acceptable even in its current trimmed-down stage. He also happens to know M, who was the guy I wanted on and off for five years but can’t have because they worked together. Small fucking world.
The plan for the rest of the evening was to go to his “buddy’s house” who was having a fire. He warned me that it would likely be “intense” but I told him I was “down for whatever” and we were trying to avoid this from happening, which my good friend George had shared with me on Facebook and it’s brilliant and I really love Emma Koenig now because she’s pretty and brunette and a cool singer… We leave my car parked at the bar, and we drive out in the woods for awhile. Picked up a rack of Budweiser (night’s getting better). We got there and BV has to go pee and he’s a guy and before I know it he’s a few yards away taking a piss by the garage. My date is peeing in front of me! Is this real? This shindig is down in a field and we have to ride out there a “gator” and I’m wearing jeans and have changed out of my five inch wedges for patent leather sandals but I’m still wearing my sleeveless button down chiffon tank from work while my butt is hovering above red Solo cups and a beer puddle, bumping down a hillside towards the fire.
The whole time, BV’s asking me if I’m really ok with this, telling me I’m a good sport, etc etc. Realize when we get there that it’s Sausage Fest 2012. I am the one and only female. It was like frat party bliss but a few years later, 25-30 group. One of them is getting married soon apparently so this was sort of like bachelor party-esque. BV handed me a Bud, and before I knew it his buddy handed me a bottle of Jameson and I was swigging out of it like I was 21 again. I had a marvelous time. His friends joked around with me and we had to tell the “how we met” and “this is our first date” story about five or six times and it kept getting cuter. He put his arm around me and walked me all the way to the house when I needed to pee. It was indeed intense, all the dudes around, none of whose names I can really remember.
BV was really concerned about me being okay and comfortable, and was hoping that he wasn’t “blowing” things. He mentioned several times that I’m “not like other girls” and once that I’m a “tough nut to crack,” which amused me. Admittedly I’m not sold right away and maybe I can come off as a little aloof at first. He was so sweet though. Our first kiss was in the field, under the stars. Accidental. But still amazing. His friends apparently thought I was cool and described me as a “down ass chick,” which flattered the hell out of me. I chugged so much water and we sobered up, and he drove me back to my car. We sat in his truck for the longest time before we started kissing again. I felt like a teenager.
Lately I’ve been running around different places, with various men. I would feel a little slutty if I wasn’t having so much fun. (Not that I’m having sex with all of them, lord!) I had to tell my best friend about my date, and he was warm and wonderful. He said that I should go out and enjoy myself because he’s always going to be my friend, he wants what’s best for me and he said that I will never lose his friendship. That’s pretty solid right there… Stay tuned though…