This was almost 20 years ago, when I was a sophomore in college. It had been about a year and a half since I had last had sex, or a hookup of any kind, which was with my high school girlfriend (previous story #1). I was playing jazz all day and all night, with no time and no opportunity for messing about with ladies.
**Meeting**
One night I went by myself to see Brad Mehldau at the Village Vanguard in Manhattan. I didn’t have a reservation, so I just waited in line for like an hour. In front of me was an attractive young woman about my age; we’ll call her M. She struck up a conversation with me, and I learned that she was a jazz singer from Colombia who had recently come to New York just like me. She was a little shorter than me, two years older (22), and really cute. I didn’t think anything of it of course, since jazz musicians love to talk to each other, and hookups were not even on my radar.
When we got to the bouncer, I expected we would be turned away since the show was so packed and neither of us had a reservation. But he just let her right in, and she said casually “He’s with me,” so I got in too. I couldn’t believe my luck! I was gonna get to see Mehldau tonight!
The show was great – it was the original trio with Larry Grenadier and Jorge Rossi. I always listened to Larry Grenadier the whole time whenever I saw Mehldau back then – his lines are so melodic and surprising. Anyhow, after the show M says “Wait for me,” and goes backstage to talk to Mehldau. That in itself was pretty cool (though I wish she had taken me with her lol).
After she came out, I was prepared to say good night. But she mentioned that she lived in New Jersey and I decided to take a shot, offering to let her spend the night at my place in Brooklyn instead.
**The Hookup**
This was 18 years ago so I don’t remember everything, but one thing led to another and we were in my bed naked. I do remember her taking the initiative: climbing on top of me, grabbing my cock, sliding it into her pussy, and riding me raw. That was the first time I had ever had sex without a condom, so I was very surprised. After about a minute, I told her that we had to stop so I could put on a condom.
She was only 2 years older, but seemed like an exotic older woman to me – so confident and sexual. Like I said, it was a long time ago, but through the mists of my memory I recall two specific events:
1. While we were fucking missionary, I leaned on her hair accidentally and she said “Ay!” As a 20 year old white boy from the suburbs, this was super exotic. An American girl would have said “ouch.”
2. I think we spent a long time fucking, and didn’t get to sleep until the sun came up. But at the end of the night, I pulled out, looked down, and saw a giant puddle of blood on my sheets. She looked as surprised as I was, so I don’t think I actually hurt her while we were having sex. When I asked her if she was all right she said she was okay. But she also said “I think you broke something.” I felt bad, but not gonna lie – it made me feel like a primal sex beast with a monster dong.
**The Relationship**
At that time I didn’t even know how to talk to a girl without falling in love, much less have sex. So I promptly feel in love. She was actually really cool, and we played a lot of music together. I still have some recordings we made.
We also had some more sex, of course. She told me that the women she knew from her home country all really loved blonde guys, and I guess she was no exception. She was always running her fingers through my hair and talking about how beautiful it was. She also taught me a really easy and tasty recipe for rice and beans that I still cook to this day.
But eventually she realized that I was a clueless kid and dumped me after a few weeks. I was heartbroken, and wrote the following poems, the quality of which I will leave to you to determine:
1 – Haiku to M:
Your memory and
the white stains on my futon
will linger always.
…
2 – M
Now even your face has fled from me.
A certain silence, she greyness of dawn on your body I remember.
I knew each time that even this pain would be too small for what you were.
Like the shadow of a bird, your soul covered us as we slept, and now in my solitude its vastness crushes me.
I am too small even for myself –
How can I now carry you within me, my friend?
Now even your face has fled from me
and I hold these memories in a paper box against its sadness.
The greyness of dawn covers me…
…
I guess I never finished that second one. As you can obviously tell, I was reading Neruda’s *Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair* at the time I wrote it.
To console myself, I used my meagre savings to book a flight to Peru for a month-long trip during winter break. That would lead to two hookups, told in my next story.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/jg0lra/mf_all_my_hookups_2_meeting_a_colombian_jazz