DAY 70: To Portland

I vacationed in Puerto Rico with my sister from February 12th - 17th. I'll dispense with the complicated sister relationship/dynamic. It took up a lot of my mental energy while I was there, but there's too much far more-relevant stuff to discuss. So I'm gonna just talk about my (man) experience there instead.

I met an amazing guy, "Portland", who happened to be the manager at the hostel we stayed at for two days. He's important to talk about because he made a very big impact on me, (though sadly, not in my vagina.) You see, before I left for PR, I had been talking to this other guy, "Johnny". I've written about him before, and that's because he had me completely rethinking Brooklyn guys, and my opinion of many things about men and relationships in general. On paper, everything about Johnny is what I DON'T go for. His name, his Brooklyn vibe, he drives a Lexus, he hasn't yet graduated college. And so on. But the chemistry we had from the get-go, and the fact that we talk for hours, every single day since we met a month ago, has blown me away. I started wondering if we're all going to wind up with someone who's from where we're from, because you can relate and click in ways you simply can't with people who are so foreign to where and how you grew up.

And then...I met Portland. He was incredibly attractive, but honestly, I thought he was gay when I first met him. He was the only one at the (very nice) hostel when we came to check in. He gave us a brief tour, and of course I was noticing his physical traits. Gorgeous blue eyes, those earring things that stretch the lobe (no idea what they're called), the unbuttoned shirt revealing a nice body. Handsome dude, albeit a pretty hipster/hippie one. But I'm from Brooklyn. I went to Purchase. I've taken the L train. This isn't new to me.

Fast forward to later that night, we - my sister, Giuseppe (Italian stud staying at the hostel) and myself - were out in Old San Juan. We were all drinking and dancing the heck out of some rumba and salsa at a live music club. Giuseppe had MAJOR eyes for my sister, so I was wingmanning the shit out it. Portland showed up with George, another hostel guest, so I opened a tab and it was drinks on me.(Sounds baller, but my 15 drink tab came out to $24.) Between dancing / talking with Portland, ordering drinks for all, and making friends with all the bartenders, I was getting pretty hammered. I wound up being chatted up by the bar manager, "Danny", who was pretty much in love with me. He was sexy (or so I thought) in that long haired, dirty, definitely-a-drug-dealer, Ecuadorean kinda way. But I was convinced I was into him. I asked about weed connects, and he offered to come by the hostel and smoke us all up. After some more dancing and shots, our group of five left, to a place George knew. It turned out to be closed, but it was a magical night. Warm, a bit breezy, all of us drunk and happy and still feeling the energy of the music. We debated where to go next, and we wound up at - bear with me here - a cemetery. In Old San Juan, there is this gorgeous all-white graveyard on the very edge of the island. Past a vast stretch of grass, it sits right outside the city's stone walls. It's on a lower level, so it is directly next to the ocean. We all cracked up when we realized THIS was the destination Giuseppe had intended. He told us to shut up, and appreciate where we were (well, that was the gist of what he said. In my inebriated state, I remember he went on for quite some time in heavily accented English.) He was right of course, it was so stunning, but you know. It WAS a cemetery, after all. But, we grew quiet and all stretched out on the wall edge, looking up at the full moon. I was zoning out, almost in a meditative state; the energy in this place was immediate and amazing. Portland, who turned out to be a writer, and super intellectual, began having an incredibly deep conversation with Giuseppe. My sister and I started laughing because of how serious it got, and how quickly. Like... metaphysics? Really? George wandered off to pee, which none of us realized til we all simultaneously asked, "What's that sound?" We were all laughing now. We decided to get up, but Portland and I stayed for a moment. I remember that. I stayed because I was so absorbed in the moment, and the vibe of that spot. And it turned out he was feeling the same thing, as we then vocalized that same thought at the same time. It was cool, doing/feeling something that was so honestly me, so from within. And then meeting someone who was riding that same energy and thinking identical thoughts about an awe-inspiring moment. He and I had connected already at the club, through talking and dancing. But in that moment, it was like time actually slowed and sparkled. I could physically and mentally feel us click.

We all walked back to a main street and grabbed a cab back to the hostel. My phone started buzzing and I saw that the drug dealer/bar manager, Danny, was calling. I gave him the address so he could come by with some of the islands finest Mary Jane. In the meantime, our little crew was kicking it in the hostel common area, sipping beers and eating. Danny came through, and he, Portland, George and myself went downstairs to smoke outside. Next thing I know, Danny is all up in my grill, trying to make small talk and making out with me. It... was... TERRIBLE. Good lord son! Aren't you Latinos notorious for being GOOD at this stuff?? BARFFFF. Weird tongue action, awful lips, gross gross gross. I wanted his long Ecuadorean locks outta my face, stat. He on the other hand definitely wanted "in", if ya know what I'm sayin', but I was negative interested:

Me: Okay, well, I'm gonna head to sleep now.
Danny: Ah. So do you have your own room?
Me: (Bam! Loophole!) Nope.
Danny: (laughs slightly) Hmmm. But maybe I could come up? Just hang out upstairs for a while?
Me: (Oh HELLLLLL no.) Aww. No, no; I'm pretty tired.
Danny: But I came all the way out here...drove here to see you...
Me: (Uhh, congratulations? This merits you my vagina? WRONG.) I know, and thanks!

He leaned in to kiss me again, but I gave him my cheek instead. I then patted him in the shoulder, and waved good bye. God, he was gross. A gross kisser. It's the worst thing ever. I can't. I'm making myself vomit writing about it.

Back upstairs, my sister and Giuseppe were walking out to the front porch/balcony. George stumbled off to bed. So Portland and I were alone in the living room, and we were pretty stoned. We were seated on adjacent couches, talking. The fans running on high felt amazing, and the warm night air coming in from the open windows smelled incredible. I heard Portland say, "And I wanted to kiss you but then you kissed that other guy..." I sat up. "Oh, my god", I said, "I kissed that guy!!! Haha oh noooo!" I laughed, then registered the other thing he said. "Wait..." I continued. "You want to kiss me?" For one thing, he had JUST seen me kiss another dude, so I was surprised he'd still want to kiss me after that. For another thing, I truly thought Portland was gay. Now I was rethinking how sexily I had danced with him earlier. Portland was leaning forward on his couch, looking at me. "Well, yeah," he said. Like it was obvious or something. "I've wanted to from the second I first saw you." "But..me?" I asked. "You....want to kiss me?" He was still leaning forward. "Of course I want to kiss you. You see anyone else here?" That was a very true statement he just made. We were definitely the only two in the room. So I leaned in to meet him, and we kissed. Holy fucking shit crap scooby doo Rosa Parks goddamn! DUDE.It's been a long, long, LONG time since I've been kissed like that. Tender, incredibly passionate, warm, perfect. Like the moment we clicked at the bar, talking about writing. Like the moment we shared by the cemetery with the wind of the ocean and the light of the moon. And now there was this. Yet a third almost... pause in time, where we felt each other in every sense of the word. It was just the two of us in the room, yes, but in that first kiss it felt like just the two of us in the world. This MAY have been the weed talking, yes, but who cares? It felt amazing. That kiss may have gone in for maybe 30 seconds, but what with time feeling like it was holding it's breath, it could have been a year. But then that moment passed, and it went from something beautiful to holy fucking HOT. Next thing I know, I climbing aboard and straddling that boy, running my hands through his curls and feeling his hands run all over my body. We just could not keep ourselves off each other. Our hands and lips and tongues were so in tune with each other. Our styles were so in sync; it was the most natural and effortlessly passionate make-out session of my life. He suggested we adjourn to his private room downstairs, and we pretty much ran there. It was maybe 6 a.m., and that pre-pre dawn light and energy was in the air. In his room, he turned a desk lamp against the wall for a nice, soft glow. We spent the next three hours in that top bunk of his tiny room. The window that stretched the height of the wall ran along the head of the bed, and the sounds and feel of San Juan blew in through the window and all over our bodies. We didn't have sex- like I said, that shit was NOT easy to NOT do- but we fooled around, and then fell asleep naked and wrapped in each other's arms. It was easily one of the most special, beautiful nights of my life.

We wound up spending the next night and morning together too, this time us being unable to stop conversing. Portland was such a fascinating guy to me. The way he looks at life, the way he views film, the things we discussed...I wish I could know him more. I actually wanted to stay longer just to spend more time with him. I wanted to take hours-long swims in his brain. Goddamn. He also had me rethink the thoughts Johnny had triggered, about Brooklyn and how maybe the best person for each of us is someone from where we're from. Yeah, meeting and knowing Portland made me realize three things:

1) As unique as it can be to connect with someone who shares your home turf, the people who are wildly different, from foreign places, have so much to teach and show you. And you them. You may not be able to share a specific joke about Midwood High School, but the potential connections to be had are just as priceless, in different ways. It's such a crucial part of the human experience, to connect with those people and grow from sharing each other's company. Even if only for a brief time.

2) I realized intimacy comes in many forms, and you don't need sex to have it. In some ways, I think the fact that we didn't have sex was actually better than having sex. Falling asleep in each other's arms like that, naked and sweaty and perfect, is what I'll remember now. The dancing, the conversations, the blue of his eyes, the thickness of his...hair! His hair. His gorgeous mind and outlook on life. Those moments were pretty goddamn special, and I'm glad I have those to cherish. Not sex.

3) I saw, measurably, how much I've grown. Old me would probably banged Mr. Bar Manager / Worst Kisser of Life. (Still not over it. What was that??? That was some bullshit.) I would've slept with him for the story, because he was there, because why not? Old me probably would've slept with Portland as well. Maybe the same night, maybe the next night. So I'm realizing more and more the value of saying no, and how much I must have grown to be okay saying it. It doesn't make me a prude, it doesn't make me any less sexual. It's making me understand my worth, and recognizing what I want, and what truly makes me happy. No amount of sex can do that as fully as saying no has.

So this weekend at work, when Night Before Guy questioned both:

- what I'll have gotten out of this 100 days, and
- why deny myself sex with him,

the answers are apparent. I'll have learned to lovingly accept myself, my whole self. I'll have learned real, true ways to connect with people. I'll have learned my worth, and why sex doesn't determine that. I'll have learned to say no, for me. I'll understand what really makes me happy, and it's okay if that happens to be something other than just another crazy sex story. I'll be able to give up mind-blowing sex with a guy who can offer me nothing else, because I don't need that anymore.

I'm almost in tears here.

To think this journey started off in my own head. I feel like I've traveled hundreds of mental miles, and then I traveled actual physical miles. I have 26 days left, and so many more miles to go. Can't wait.