May 11th, 2005

(no subject)

A Wee Virgin.

We've always called him Wee Ryan, and if you ask me, we have good reason to. Ryan has always been small, in more ways than one. He's short and nerdy-looking (although when that boy takes his shirt off he's his own little heartthrob), and he has been quiet since kindergarden, very seldom opening up to prove his personality wasn't completely wee. But in the end, Ryan was always going to be Wee Ryan to me. But I'm wondering if he's only still Wee Ryan because that was a nickname that stuck with him, because the more I think about it... Wee Ryan's not so wee anymore.

At the tail end of senior year, Ryan appeared the same as always; sitting in the corner of math class and only speaking when spoken to. But when the sun set, the larger, more unadulterated Ryan came out and would stomp mercilessly on any Wee part of him we'd grown used to. He'd sit there during class in silence, only because he was still hungover the night before, still high from that morning, or still dealing with post-E blues. Ryan was a partier when that side of him came out, and when we were sure he wasn't going to be so sheltered inside himself anymore, we got to experience Wee Ryan for who he really was.

And I realized that Ryan was actually a funny kid. He had so many thoughts going constantly that it was no wonder why he always kept quiet. But when he opened up to me, as he did a lot after too much liquor, there was a good handful of personality that came along with this guy. All throughout high school, Ryan had been classified as a friend of mine, but I had realized that we'd barely ever spoken until the summer following graduation, at which point I found Ryan's rich and potent juices leaking out of his pores at his burning desires to talk. And talk he did.

It was funny because everybody had always assumed that Ryan was this well-rounded, easy straight-A, smart and nerdy kid. Granted, for the majority of his life, he was, but somehow Ryan managed to pull off that same exterior while bringing his life into a spiral of jagged experiences that would change him completely on the inside. And for some reason, I was the one he would call at two in the morning when he felt his brain expanding to a size larger than his own head, panicing in the neverending spiral that was growth.

So you can imagine I was a little speechless when my little Wee Ryan, the kid I grew up with knowing everything and nothing about, told me he wanted to lose his virginity.

To me.

Don't get him wrong, though. Ryan is more than attractive and awesome enough to have lost his virginity a thousand times by now. But there's a part of Wee Ryan that still makes him Wee, and he's still the shyest kid in town when it comes to girls. His shyness is the absolute only thing that has ever stood in the way of him getting laid, and it's just my luck that he's talked to me so many times about so many things that he wasn't too shy to ask me about this one. I'm attracted to Ryan; he's an excellent kid, has a nice body (a little short, granted), good hair (a rarity in that clique), and he's a fine kisser. I've cuddled with him on ecstasy. I've made out with him in the back seat of my car. I've taken bong hits with him, and gotten utterly shitfaced with him and blacked out with him. I've taken him to the soup aisle at the 24-hour Price Chopper when he was tripping on acid and tossed a beach ball back and forth for hours with him. I've comforted him in the life and times of passing love and he's comforted me, too. But sex? With Wee Ryan? I don't think even I could pull that one.

Lets start by saying "I'm really not a slut."

One of Elexis's (radioedit_) last posts was saying one thing about all the inhabitants of her friends list. What she had to say about me was the following:

Now if _bulldoze used T's alphabet method to refer to prospective mates, I think she'd be around letter Z by now.

The way this works is that Troy (uberdionysus) used to have an alphabet. He would write about his women and refer to them as letters from said alphabet that he had given them in the order in which they had become involved. And after thinking about it, I wanted to find out if I was in fact at the letter Z.

So I backdated. And I backdated. And I backdated some more all the way back to the beginning of _bulldoze. And keep in mind that this alphabet is just within this journal, mainly because this journal was the first place I started becoming more promiscuous and using all my interesting sexual encounters as new ways to tell awesome stories. And that's what I did. Since growing into this lovely journal of mine, I've documented [pretty much] every single encounter, because the funny thing about it was that most of them were one time things. Note that most of the names only have one or two entries/experiences written about them, and that's because at the core of _bulldoze is a curse: The Curse of the Faux-Hawk.

So here it is, as a result of pure experimentation,
The Alphabet;
As Told in Men.
(And Some Women.)

Keep in mind that although the list is long, I've still only had sex with a small number of people. Pretty much all of these are just curious little makeout parties that I've ruled myself into getting thrown for me. There's a big difference between a slut and a makeout bandit. I do it in classiness, just as I do all the other crazy shit I do: so I can have something good to write about.

And a PS to Elexis: I didn't make it to Z...
I only made it to Y.

Collapse )