Through These Eyes: The Hookup

By Justin Jones December 1, 2011

Categories: Family & Friends, Our Lives

Pants first.

No. Shoes first. Then belt. Then pants. Clothes off. My heart is too loud. Too fast.

Shirt next. Kissing. Lots of kissing. Passionate. Intense. Lip biting, face grabbing. Things move too fast around us. Room spins. The television is on. I don’t care. I can’t hear it. I hear and feel only the heartbeats. It beats so hard it hurts.

Fall on the bed. Toss and turn. Stomach in knots. The good kind. Sweat beads. Mixes. Stings our vision. Tastes salty. Wine spills from the nightstand. Red on carpet. So?

Mouth wash is the taste. Cologne, the smell. Skin, all of the above. It isn’t passion. It’s ferocity. It’s going a million miles an hour in the same place. Standing still in the middle of a hurricane. It’s the whole world crammed in a single moment.

Passion climaxes. The story enters its resolution. Nighttime and alcohol approve this message.

Morning comes and the wine is dried. CNN drones on. The clothes are as disheveled as they were–a floor-fashion eruption. The heartbeat has softened. The smells are almost the same. Cologne, yes. Breath, eh…

Question 1: Time? Find phone. Ignore those texts. Am I late for anything?

Question 2: Regret? Absorb the room in the daytime. Absorb him. Evaluate my judgment. Is it what I remember it being? Do I remember anything at all?

Question 3: Stay or go? Always go. If he is your knight, he will rescue you again. Leave politely. Graciously. He has a schedule, too.

Question 4: The cliffhanger. But will I see him again? Factors to include: his enthusiasm, my enthusiasm. Consider cuddling, and Question 2.

Question 5 (2 parts): What do I tell my friends? And how do I get home?

Our questions answer the overarching introspective: did I hookup last night?

We write entire romances in one night. One night might encompass Courtship, Honeymoon, Trial, and Heartbreak. It also often includes the optional foreword: alcohol. But that it lasted only one night doesn’t mean it’s a hookup; it doesn’t necessitate the title “one-night stand” and the baggage (or lack of baggage) that comes with the label.

To the status quo, the term “hookup” packs a wallop. It references a dalliance with suggestions of poor judgment, and reflects one’s grander ambitions. Someone who “hooks up” thus must also be a Slut. A hookup is meaningless. It’s selfish and stereotypical. And it’s fun. Acceptable to some and practiced by many. Contrary to popular belief, though, duration has no relation to the label. A “hookup” may last one night, or it may last many nights (“Friends with Benefits” or “Regular Lay,” anyone?).

Likewise, romance–true and impassioned–may last one night only. When the situation is unrequited. To our questions above, you regret nothing, you leave begrudgingly, and you have no hesitation that you want to see him (or her) again. When the answers to our questions point in this direction, the overarching answer is clear: we didn’t hookup. This is more than a one-night stand because it was for me. Regardless of how he feels or whether or not I see him again.

When he decides not to call you; when, to him, the episode was one-night only, it becomes a hookup for him. Not for you. For you, a romance has taken place. Complete with your own tragic ending. To your friends, then, you answer honestly: “No, I didn’t hookup.” Smile.

Perhaps there is a sixth question we romantics should add to our list. One that we ask ourselves before we decide in our drunken stupor that he is the one: Can this wait for another time, maybe after we get to know one another? A million dollars say the answer is no, but it never hurts to ask.

I hookup. Rarely. Very rarely. OK, OK, I hardly have a sex life. By choice. I hope. It’s not my style to have meaningless sex. You can do that with yourself. It’s more to me to have a story. To make love instead of f—. To cuddle rather than feel indifference. To wish for more instead of an end. To close your eyes, cross your fingers, and hope that he feels the same. 


4 Responses to Through These Eyes: The Hookup

  1. MichaelM says:

    Love those last two paragraphs! Yes, many of us have likely done exactly as you’ve described throughout this tale (after all, we each yearn for the passion, company and sexual release with one to whom we’re attracted–um, especially when we’ve had a few too many drinks). But maturity reveals the real desire that burns just beneath the skin. That dream of finding the “one” who will see in us a special quality nobody else can see. That person who causes our heart to skip a beat and toes to curl inside our shoes, all with the slightest brush of his (or her) fingers against the cheek or a whispered, “I love you.”

  2. Pierre says:

    You’re right, Mr. Jones:
    Making love always beats having sex or f?%@ing! 🙂
    Keep up the loving!

  3. Jason says:

    Oh how so true this is. I am glad that I am past the hookup stage and happy with my partner of 11 months. Hooking up where I live is not easy and very difficult. Everyone knows everyone or has hooked up with everyone so it kinda sucks.

    Great blog, enjoyed reading. Thanks for posting.

  4. Lonnie A. says:

    TERRIFIC! I read this and smiled thinking back to my hookup years…then smile even bigger but more softly thinking “maybe he really IS still out there.” Either way, this was a wonderful walk down memory lane, and an uplifting, somewhat hopeful look toward the future. Thanks for the renewal of faith…even here in Central Iowa.

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