Derek: Part Uno

When I was a single girl in Uni, most of my my time was spent in search of a new 'meaning' in life instead of actually studying. Numbers bored me. I found afternoons spent fazed out recovering from last nights' wild party or doing a line or two and/or spacing out in someones room after a bong session much more interesting. I was out of control and loving it. Men slunk in and out of my life. They were disposable, no one stayed for more than a fortnight...until I met Derek, of course.

Derek was a senior I didn't know until I got myself smashed at a sorority party. I woke up to a head of dirty blond hair in a room I didn't remember walking into. "Are you all right?" he whispered at me. I was not, but I mouthed back a wordless "yes" to him and drifted off again. When I woke up again, I was alone. The little digital numbers on his alarm clock read OE:E. I turned the right way up and noticed there was a note on the bed, yellow legal-lined, half hidden under the duvet. Scrawled in black biro:

'Be back at 4. Don't go anywhere. Derek.'

Derek. Nice eyes. I realized then that I was still fully clothed and a look into his mirror told me my mascara was evidently not smudge-proof. I looked terrible, and felt much worse as only a night of inebriated senseless partying could result in. And I didn't wait for Derek to return.

I knew I'd see him again but it wasn't until two weeks later at another party. I was lining up some shots when:

"Hello."

"Hello, Derek," I smiled.

"I never got your name."

"They call me Tasha."

"Tasha. Well, nice seeing you again...go easy on the Baileys," he said, winking before turning away.

"Wait!" I called after him. " How 'bout a shot?"

I tell him he's holding a Cocksucking Cowgirl in his hands and he raises an eyebrow. After three rounds, he invites me to the dancefloor and we have a semi-conversation over the music. Derek was so easy to talk to. I found out that he saw me dancing at the last party and wondered who I was. I wasn't exactly hard to miss in a bright red dress on top of a table, he told me wryly. Derek was just about to go and try 'chat me up' when he found me crashed out on the couch with J, a girlfriend of mine. An hour later I was still there so he carried me up to his room...which is how I got there. I wondered aloud why he didn't try to have sex with me and he said that he wasn't that type of guy.

Men are not exactly new to me - I have met many, and I've met all kinds. The ones that say 'I'm not that type' are the smarter ones, but eventually they all try to have sex with you. And you're thinking at this point, 'Tasha is that type', and you're right. I am that type. The Commitment type, that is. I would be, if I ever met The Right Man. But back then, I was young and stupid and slept my way through a string of men to fulfil my physical needs and never my acknowleged my emotional ones. I didn't think Derek was any different but over the next few weeks I changed my mind. It was one particular moment that convinced me that maybe Derek was really 'not that type':

He asked my permission to have sex.

After our second meeting, we became inseperable. It was a first for me then, spending all my time with just one person. I grew to like him more and more. The physical attraction part was never a question. Derek was beautiful.

After a few weeks Derek still hadn't tried getting me into his bed and I was starting to wonder if there was anything wrong with me. Of course there wasn't, it's just one of those things that us girls do. And of course I tried. But he was such a gentleman that it finally occurred to me that subtle hints was not going to get him into bed. So I went out and bought the lowest top I could find - one of those v-necks that go down to your belly and took Derek out for dinner. In his car on the way back, parked on the side of my dorm, I kissed him goodnight while brushing up against him and letting my top accidently fall open. I pulled back, pretending I didn't know my breasts were in full view. His reaction was typical, and for the first time we really kissed. When his cold hands slid inside my top, I asked if he wanted to come up.

"Tasha, I think you have an amazing personality...and you drive me so crazy...can I...please...?"

Finally. But hang on...an amazing personality? OK, it was better than the usual 'you are so sexy' and the sex was good. Not mind-blowing but good. Later I would find out that Derek, as a Lover, falls into a category only for girls who have uninhibition etched on their behinds - The Exhibitionist. But on that first night, he convinced me that he was A Romantic.