I first got “Jonesed” in 2000. I was a senior and she was a freshman. A very audacious little freshman because I was hot shit my senior year. Now this is dating back almost 15 years, so it was a different time. At that time, the only out lesbian couple was myself and my then girlfriend. We were very popular (as a couple) and surrounded by attention and controversy. Sweet, smooth talking freshman, Christina Jones, found it all to be very infectious, and thus a little baby dyke was born.
Jones had an annoying habit of following my girlfriend and I around, hoping to pick up lesbo tips, I assume. Well, that, or strands of hair. Then one Monday morning, at the start of a new semester, Christina Jones and I were to report to the same homeroom, down a long, desolate hallway, in the back of the building. She didn’t talk to me in class, mainly because her friends didn’t know about her infatuation, and because she was intimidated.
What happens next will forever go down into the herstory books. Upon exiting the classroom, I swung into the girls restroom. As I finished my business and stepped out of the stall, I was taken by complete surprise as I was pushed up against a wall and passionately kissed on the mouth. Caught completely off guard, I could not speak, just look at the ballsy freshman, who smiled and turned away out of the room. I could not believe this little freshman had the courage and audacity to make such a move on a big freshman. I didn’t know to feel victimized or impressed.
Years passed, and I didn’t keep in touch with Christina Jones. I think I saw her at a pride festival here and there, but nothing was ever spoken of her ladies room stunt. Then one night in 2005, I was at a new dyke club with the girl I was dating. It was a hot club and the place was packed. I suddenly got the feeling of eyes on me. My premonition was correct, and a smooth talking baby dyke was dancing next to me. Sporting a rainbow belt and ponytail, she gave me this huge grin and introduced me to her girlfriend. I thought it was sweet that she could be out of the closet, living an open life, that she had grown up.
The bar was about to close so my girl and I hit the restroom before heading home. Did my business, stepped out of the stall, and BAM! Pushed up against a wall and intensely kissed, full on, on my mouth. I looked at Jones and, again, had no words. My girlfriend was still in the bathroom stall. She hadn’t seen any of the kiss attack. Christina Jones had “Jonesed” me again! How the fuck did I allow this to happen twice? I haven’t talked to this girl in five years!
Next came the era of Facebook, and Christina Jones and I had become ‘friends’, along with a hundred other people from my high school. We never communicate online, but she sees my information- like getting married and having a baby- and I see her info too- like moving out of state. Yes, Christina Jones moved to Kentucky. Not going to lie, seeing that produced a bit of relief.
Last night I went out to a bar for lesbian night with a couple of friends. It was my first night out since the baby was born, so I was ready to cut loose. Somehow my friends and I got onto the topic of Christina Jones, and the act of getting “Jonesed”. As we made our way to the ladies room, we joked to always watch your back in the bathroom at places like this. So I did my business, and stepped out of the stall, to find a long line of cuties waiting for their turn. The bathroom attendant handed me some paper towel and I walked out.
And there she was. Fucking Christina Jones, not in Kentucky. In my bar. With my guard up a little, I smiled and we started conversing. The way I saw it, we weren’t in a bathroom, there were people around, and she knows I’m married. We started to joke about the sneaky smoothness of her prior convictions. Okay, cool. The trend is over and we are officially grown ups. Then, mid fucking sentence- BAM!…
Christina Jones is officially my master. She kissed me in front of everyone and I was stupidly caught off guard. I can’t believe I got “Jonesed” a third fucking time.
I think it’s time to accept that I will randomly be ambushed every handful of years when I least expect it. It’s ridiculous and weird. It was entertaining when my friend bitch slapped her for kissing me, but that’s another story for a another day.
My warning to others is to steer clear of Christina Jones, especially in, around, or within 20 feet of a restroom. Rumor has it there have been others who have been “Jonesed” as well. I’m sure I’m the only three-striker.
*Names have been changed to ensure privacy. And so I don’t get hunted down.