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Taking my hand, Fifty Shades leads me across Main St. Confused as to where we’re going, I make note of the fact that his house is in the opposite direction. “I know,” he replies, “we’re going to the liquor store.” Noticing that I’m still perplexed by this statement, Fifty Shades smiles endearingly my way and clarifies, “We’re gonna get some forties and drink on the beach!” finishing his statement with a smirk and kiss on my cheek.
Ha! OK, that’s the 27-year-old in him.
Each holding our own forty-ounce beer, typically wrapped in a conspicuous brown paper bag, the two of us stroll hand-in-hand down the boardwalk and onto the beach, passing a bunch of high-school kids on a jungle gym. “You guys are high and you’re totally gonna fuck!” they scream out at us. Unable to contain my laughter, I’m even more surprised by Fifty Shades’ reply: “No you guys are high and you’re totally gonna fuck!”
Wow, that’s the first time he’s cursed since I met him. Yet another 27-year-old moment of his. I totally dig it. It’s like watching a butterfly emerge from a cocoon or watching a friend arise from a blacked-out, booze-induced slumber to continue partying: it’s quite beautiful and awe-inspiring.
As we continue to walk along the beach, we decide to settle and stop at a deserted lifeguard stand. It’s a short, white wooden ramp that leads up to a parapet about four feet off the ground and a boarded up room that we can’t seem to open. Upon surveying the stand, we find clothes and a cell phone. We’re the only people in sight for what seems like miles. Hmm. I demand to Fifty Shades that we try to find the missing beach go-ers. He insists they’re probably off fucking somewhere. I contemplate whether or not the owner of these clothes was raped and murdered here. I make sure to keep my pepper spray and fantasies of actually possessing quick-and-nimble ninja skills close.
Fifty Shades and I are holding onto one another face-to-face when he solemnly states, “Damn, those kids are definitely having the time of their lives right now…” Curious about his tone, I ask Fifty, “When was the last time you had the time of your life?” Fifty Shades purses his lips tightly into a frown and looks off into the distance, as he replies with, “When I was their age…”
Don’t tell me this doesn’t sound like some good shit to jump on. Again, the therapist in me demands to pry and purge Fifty Shades of all that fucked-up-edness that is brewing beneath his super controlled exterior. So pry away I do
Me: When you were that age huh…? What was it like for you?
Fifty Shades: *typically throwing up another barrier* It’s much too long of a story to get into now…
Me: *triumphantly knocking down that emotional barrier like a cute-female-brown version of The Incredible Hulk* Well ya know…even if we started walking back now, we’d have plenty of time *smiling innocently and waiting in silence*
Fifty Shades: *letting out a long sigh and giving in* Well…it was back when I was 18-years-old living in Pittsburgh…
I stand in an analytical amusement as Fifty Shades goes on to recount his young adult days when he lived the life of a high-profile drug dealer, equipped with the expensive convertible sports car, the endless flow of cash, and the DEA wire-tapping his phones while tailing him and his other drug-toting friends. Umm…fucking what? Oh yeah, me too, mother fucker. That’s totally what I was doing at their age. I expected him to talk about times when he did acid and played pranks on his neighbors by shitting in brown paper bags, lighting them on fire, and watching the frantic neighbors stomp it out while getting poo poo all over their penny loafers. Yeah, totally not the story I was expecting. I’m pretty sure that while Fifty Shades was refining his rep as a young, blonde Tony Montana, I was just out doing Tony Montana amounts of coke and ecstasy, like every other teenager on the Jersey Shore DUH!
Fifty Shades looks pained, strained, and devastated as he discusses the time he eventually got arrested and was sent to a psychiatric ward after demanding that he’s being followed and tailed. As he discusses how traumatized he was by the experience, I can literally feel him jerking in angst and terror in my arms, his face communicating quite congruently everything I can feel going on in his body. In this light, as he stares off past me, his voice choking with each reticently recalled memory, he finally looks like a guy my age underneath the 57-year-old façade, maybe even younger.
Fifty Shades shakes his head (attempting to possibly shake the memories away?) and stares off in silence, as I simply state,
Me: *slowly and sympathetically like the properly trained therapist that I am* Wow…Fifty that must’ve been so awful to go through…
Fifty Shades: *possibly choking back tears and sarcastically scoffing while continuing to shake his head* Ha…it’s an awful thing for anyone to go through…!
Me: *not letting him off the hook in deflecting yet ANOTHER attempt of mine to validate his difficult emotions* Yes, and it must have been very awful for you.
Fifty Shades: *shaking his head aggressively, whispering* Stop it.
Me: *not sure if I heard him correctly* Excuse me…?
Fifty Shades: *tightening his grip forcefully around me, through gritted teeth and raising his voice, demanding slowly and loudly* I SAID STOP IT! *glaring at me and breathing heavily, still holding onto me tightly while he continues to stare me down as if waiting to strike at my next response*
I feel my entire body tighten in gripping, debilitating fear, as cold chills run up and down my entire body, whatever baby hairs I have on the back of my neck standing up in full aghast attention. AAHHHH!!! Nobody can hear me scream out here even if I try!!!!!!! To say I am completely terrified for my life at this moment is an understatement! DAMMIT! Right now I can hear my father in my head telling me in his super thick fake Filipino accent, “I TOLDJU JAY!!! WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT GOING OPP WIT DA BOYS!!??!! DIS IS WATT HAPPENS!!! YOU SEE!?!?!?! I TOL JUUUU BUT YOU DON LISSSSEN!!!!!!!!!! DATS WAAAAT YOU GET!!!!!!”
Fuck man, nothing’s worse than my father being right about all the ridiculously dangerous shit I do out here. Ugh. To be honest, the main motivating factor in me making it out of this moment alive is to avoid giving my father the satisfaction of knowing he was right in continuously lecturing me to stop acting like such a proud, promiscuous little princess out here. Aww HELLLLLL NAAAAA!!! NOT HAPPENING! OVER MY DEAD BODY (literally)!
Knowing damn well I shouldn’t push it any more than I already have, I breathe in deeply and slowly turn around in Fifty Shades’ arms, making sure to maintain the silence. Whoever speaks first loses! He already has the upper hand on this one; there’s no way in hell I’m gonna succumb my mental power considering my physical power is evidently useless against Fifty Shades.
The two of us continue to stare out over the ocean in silence for what seems like hours (it most likely was no more than five minutes), as he continues to gently stroke my arms up and down. I do not know what the fuck to make of this guy, I tell ya. Still standing silently, Fifty Shades then moves my hair to the side, as I feel his lips gently touch the tip of my right shoulder, his hands moving slowly across my belly in unison with his lips now moving across the back of my neck. I open my mouth to take in a deep quickened breath as I feel him now gently kissing up the side of my neck. FUCK, that’s my sweet spot, man! Not the time, buddy I’m still scared shitless of you!!! But, oh God, does that feel good…
Right now, I’m going through a cluster fuck of things I think I should and should not do, the obvious one being the simple fact that I should very well run for my life once given the opportunity. Unfortunately for any sense of logic I manage to muster up in this moment, my libido almost always wins out. Ugh. Damn my sex drive of a 21-year-old New Jersey frat boy! Now turning around, I grab the back of Fifty Shades’ neck and pull myself up to meet my lips on his. Mmm…God he has the softest lips everrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr; they protrude out just enough for me to gently suck on and they feel perfectly moisturized without a hint of dryness on them. Yummmmy! The two of us continue to hold tightly onto one another as we kiss and nibble and suck on each other’s lips and tongues. He’s such a good kisser, the kind that uses minimal tongue and doesn’t part his lips too much further past mine, leaving saliva all over my nose and chin (ugh that’s the worst man…). THIS IS PERFECT. Perfectly awkward considering he’s yet again pulled a Jekyll/Hyde on me in a matter of minutes.
Somehow able to pry ourselves from this passionate performance, Fifty and I pull away from one another as the two of us struggle to catch our breaths. Leaning his forehead against mine, Fifty Shades pants through whispers, “Wanna…get out…of here?” Knowing damn well that this is my chance to make it back home alive and somehow also itching to still bed Fifty Shades of PSYCHO, I pant back, “Oh yeah…” as I gulp hard, now realizing that I quite possibly do not realize what I’m in for. Yanking my hand in his, Fifty Shades then pulls me down the wooden ramp, onto the beach, leading me back to his place.
We never do see the owner of those other clothes and cell phone.