Nolan Clay Rogers

Family don't read this either, in fact, don't read this website please! I've realized while writing this that no section is safe from rated R stuff, boo :(

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Life was looking pretty dreary and extremely bleak. I had just left my boyfriend of two and a half years and he had just taken everything from the apartment, and when I say everything I mean everything. Even the bed. Like I said, bleak. Leaving someone that you no longer love is hard. People think it's easy, but in reality, that person has become all you've ever known for years, so even if there's no love, you're left feeling lost. Wandering.

I had a month to find another place to live, since it was his name on the lease and not mine, and the lease was up in a month (I stayed at the apartment and he went to go live with his dad). I certainly had choose the perfect time to leave him, didn't I?

I decided to spend my time trying not to worry about where I'd go, and finally enjoy my freedom, which meant fucking my coworker at the tattoo shop I worked at, and jumping on Tinder, wanting to experience an orgasm from the opposite sex for the first time, maybe. (That didn't happen, but you'll read that in the Sex section).

Swiping on Tinder is so sad. You just sit there swiping on mediocre dudes in your area while you're on mushrooms or something, all the while stuffing your face full of chips. Was that just me? Yeah? Okay.

I took part in some risqué behavior before stumbling upon the person I'm married to today. How exactly do I explain my type? Well, they have to be and have very masculine energy. I prefer red heads, or strawberry blondes, and they have to be tall (6ft or over, I'm not dealing with a short guy again). After dipping my toe into real sex, I discovered that I liked big, but not too big if you know what I mean, and girth is a big plus. I like guys that look...strange? I don't know how to describe it. My husband basically says I like Neanderthals, and I'm not sure if that's a slur or something, so if it is, I'm sorry.

Anyways! One night while swiping on Tinder, sad as a sack of shit, Nolan Clay Rogers in all his glory popped up. His profile, although verified, seemed very fake. All of his photos looked as though they were professionally taken, none of them with friends or family, all just him. His Instagram was linked, I clicked it, same photos. I was very skeptical, but I wasn't much concerned for my life at the moment, so I messaged him. I typically waited for guys to message me, but something told me that he was different.

His bio had said that he was in Michigan only for a modeling trip and that afterwards he'd be going back to where he lived, Oklahoma. I frowned upon reading this, knowing that the most beautiful of men I'd seen on the app would only be but a one night fling. I was technically only wanting to fuck around anyways, so I wasn't too upset. But I didn't want to be a hussy forever.

I had messaged him something like, "you're so handsome, holy fuck". I left out the 'holy fuck' part but it was definitely a considered additive. He responed swiftly, (he now says that he messaged me back while taking a shit, how charming) and said that he wanted to have a date at my apartment the following evening. I thought it crazy to have a complete stranger over and not let anyone know, so I said yes! He said he'd bring wine and a drinking horn. I had no clue what he meant by a drinking horn, but indeed meant a literal drinking horn.

I began to panic as I looked around my less than impressive apartment, which was thankfully stocked with furniture my brother had given to me since he was moving to New York City. If he hadn't gifted me the furniture, I'd be stuck with a 100$ Walmart futon and a shitty coffee table, that's it. Luckily he'd given me a nice leather love seat, a full livingroom coffee table set with end tables, all made of marble, which I still use to this day. I moved the futon into my bedroom to sleep on, since my bedroom was completely empty besides my desk I'd taken from my parents house after I ran away at 17, but that story is for another day.

I do this thing when I know I'm about to have company, it's an ADHD thing. It's where you hyperfocus on cleaning the entire house, so much so that you neglect all other human needs you may have. Whether that be eating, sleeping, hydrating, going to the bathroom, etc. It's super fun, because after I'm done hyperfocusing I'll be shaking like a leaf from low blood sugar, but smiling at my tidy house. A conundrum, truly.

I did exactly that, cleaned the entirety of my apartment, even the shower, just in case my guest that I'd never met before wanted to take a shower/bath? I don't know, I'm fucking weird. Then I sat on the couch and waited for Nolan to arrive. Yes, when I have a big event on the rise, I can think of nothing more than said event. To my own detriment, I awaited Nolan Clay Rogers, and he wasn't even set to arrive until the following evening.

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I stood in front of the mirror posing, much like a 5 year old does when they break into their mother's makeup for the first time. I had a total of about 10 outfit changes, but finally decided on black skinny jeans and my crop top with tarot cards on it. I shaved everything, even my legs, and I never shave my legs. (I actually never shave anything at all, but back then I thought it necessary since men are idiots and think hair is gross).

It was 4:54 pm. Six minutes before he was supposed to be standing outside my door. He messaged me saying he was on the way. Whenever I meet someone that I am trying to impress, I panic, I sweat, and I shake. I was terrified, more than the average person would be. And once panic sets in, there's no ridding myself of it.

I stood in front of my door pacing, waiting for him to be buzzed into my building, unsure if I should even be doing this. I had told my friend and she told me that I was crazy for having a complete stranger over, although now that I think of it, she was probably right. Point is, I've done crazier, and I'm still alive.

I was suddenly shaken from my thoughts as the buzzer to my apartment filled my living room, and I hesitantly buzzed back, allowing him to come in. The buzzer in the apartment was so fucking loud, I can't even describe my terror everytime it went off. I took as many deep breaths as I could before he began knocking, I opened the door to the exact man from the pictures, only more beautiful. He certainly didn't look like a murderer, but neither did Ted Bundy.

I stepped aside after welcoming him and he entered my apartment swiftly. He hung his tasseled jacket on my coat rack and took his shoes off, which were cowboy boots. He was indeed 6'1, and towered over me. His hair was an amber color bouncing off the candle light, and his eyes were a sky blue, my favorite. I looked down to his hands, which were holding a bottle of wine called Prophecy, and it had a picture of a tarot card on it, the one also depicted on my shirt, The Fool. In the other hand he held a huge mead horn, he truly wasn't lying.

I'd like to say that in that moment it was love at first sight, but I'd be lying to you. I was confused, actually. My feelings were not clear, which was puzzling to me, as I almost always knew how I felt about something or someone. He was unlike anyone I'd ever seen before. We didn't have these sorts of people in trashy Chesterfield.

I was unsure if I should hug him, but he went for it first, knowing I was awkwardly considering it. He felt good, and smelled good. Finally, I could smell pheromones that I liked. I wanted someone so full of testosterone that they could kill an army with a snap of their fingers, and Nolan was that man. That was the moment that I knew he wasn't a murderer.

I invited him over to the couch, and we both sat down. He seemed much more interested in conversing with me than fucking me. It was refreshing. I had a guy over before swiping on Nolan and not even 5 minutes in he had asked me to undress, so Nolan was a breath of fresh air. I had never met a man under 35 that didn't want to immediately fuck.

The way he spoke, it was like honey. (If you've listened to his podcast, you'll know what I mean). It was like a soft flowing river. He effortlessly used the biggest words, concocting sentences beyond my understanding. It was intimidating. I could tell that I was sitting with a man much smarter than I, which was impressive in itself.

He poured us wine into the massive drinking horn, which I was pretty excited to try.

~To be continued~