Requiem For a One-Night Stand, Pt. 1 of 2

I’ve been thinking about Karen for a while now. I just didn't like how things ended between us. Yeah, we still communicated through IM every once in a while but I was sure she thought badly of me. If she didn't, I surely thought badly of how I mishandled the situation. I was totally in the wrong and I had to clear the air, but first let me bring y'all up to speed…

Karen is a MySpace friend I've known for well over two years now (maybe three). I forget how we "met" but we would exchange messages every so often and make small talk. Although I've come across some really cool people online, I'm real leery about who I actually "meet" in person or share personal info with when it comes to the Net. I'm never pressed to "get up" or communicate outside of the digital world any time soon, because at the end of the day, I really don't know you and you don't really know me. But Karen was hella cool and after about 11 months or so we exchanged numbers. Even then, though, we didn't even talk regularly, it was merely a few text exchanges here or there.

Karen had only been living in New York for about three years or so and had the worst luck with clubs in the city—she always ended up at the lamest spots with the lamest dudes. Although I rarely go clubbing anymore I always get invites to parties, so if something came up I'd forward the information to Karen as a friendly FYI. Eventually there was one party that I actually felt obliged to attend and Karen said she was going as well. So after almost a year and a half of "knowing" each other we were finally going to meet face-to-face.

I went to the party with my boys and Karen came through with two of her girlfriends. It wasn't a date or anything like that; we were just two sets of people attending the same party. True to form, Karen and her friends were crazy cool and we all partied until the wee hours of the night. Although Karen was an attractive woman, I wasn't even thinking about her romantically at the time because I was actually talking to someone that I was really, really feeling hard so I had tunnel vision regarding any other women. That still didn't stop Karen from being a cool ass chick, so when she said we should kick it sometime I was like, "No problem."

Fast-forward about two months and there was trouble in paradise. My love affair had come to an abrupt end and I was distraught. No need to get into all the gory details, all you need to know is I was the dumpee and had to find a way to pick up the pieces. After weeks of moping around and slowly realizing that this really was the end of us, I decided that I had to at least try to move on or get stuck in an emotional rut.

Despite two months going by since our face-to-face meeting, Karen and I had yet to hangout again. Around the same time of my heartbreak Karen texted me about some party in the city and she wanted to see if I wanted to roll. I declined due to a scheduling conflict (honestly, I was probably still depressed over the loss of Shortie) but promised we had to get up some point soon. On the day I realized that I had to get over Shortie or continue to wallow in self-pity, I decided to finally make good on my promise to hang out with Karen. I texted her on a whim to see what she was getting into. She had plans, but was free the following Saturday and we made arrangements to get up in Brooklyn.

The following Saturday came and Karen and I met at a soul food restaurant in Fort Green. We chilled, ate, laughed and got to know each other a little better since we really hadn't spoken at length other than a few email exchanges, texts and a brief convo during that party two months prior. As the conversation kept flowing so did the drinks. I sipped on glasses of Riesling all night, while Karen tossed back Long Island Iced Teas (we joked about how our drink orders should have been reversed, but the lady sure liked her hard liquor).

Needless to say, by time we left we were both a bit tipsy. But it was still relatively early and we were enjoying each other's company so we headed to a nearby bar to have a few more rounds. Now if you've been following this blog for a while you'll know that trouble tends to brew when I’ve been drinking and tonight was no different.

It was almost 1 in the morning when we decided to finally to head out. Since Karen lived in Queens, the fastest and safest way for her to get home was via the Long Island Railroad. We weren't that far from the Atlantic Avenue station so we hoofed it over there for her to catch the next train out. We got there just in time to miss the train and the next one wasn't leaving for another hour. That's when I jokingly suggested, "You can always crash on my couch."

"Uh, no. I've heard that one before."

"Scout’s honor. It's late and I live a few stops away. My futon is mad comfortable."

"Nah, that’s alright. I think I really need to go home."

"Okay, no problem. You’re right."

Karen bought her ticket and we sat on one of the benches on the platform waiting for the train. Five minutes later, she turned to me, "How far did you say you lived again?"

"Huh? Like seven stops."

"Okay, I'm way too tired to be waiting for this train. I'll crash on you couch and head home in the morning. Okay?"

"Aiight, no problem."

Now I'd be lying if I said the thought of getting some wasn't in the back of my head, but my offer for Karen to crash on my couch was totally genuine. In fact, I pulled out spare sheets and pillows and made the futon up for Karen to sleep alone in the living room. But even the best-laid plans can go awry.

Needless to say, Karen and I started talking, which somehow led to us making out; which led to exploration; which led to fornication. I'll skip all the graphic details for once since some folks seem to think I deliver TMI in some of my blog—besides the sex isn't the point of this post, just bare with me.

The morning after is always the hardest, especially when you feel guilty. See, I realized that I was still feeling Shortie and sleeping with Karen was only a temporary distraction. I wanted to feel wanted and I wanted to just not hurt for a bit. Sometimes, that's what sex offers; it's one of the few times I don’t think and I just feel. But a physical act can only detour your emotions but for so long. After the euphoria (and the liquor) has left your system, you're back to reality. Yeah, someone is lying right next to you but you feel alone and empty. Karen was a good woman and I let my hurt and a few drinks cloud my judgment. By thinking with my dick instead of my head, I had involved her in something that she shouldn't have been involved in—my emotional confusion.

Once Karen awoke, we got dressed and went to grab brunch at a breakfast spot around my way. After that we took the train back to Atlantic Avenue, where she finally caught the LIRR back home. Before she boarded the train, I kissed her goodbye and told her to call or text me when she got in so that I knew she made it home safely. I never saw Karen again.