I will continue to explicate upon my travels, but I did say that I would couch my story about J in another story. The bad habits. Damn. I never thought I would be into morning sex, but apparently it’s a really nice way to wake up. And then fall back asleep.
I don’t know if there is much to say about last weekend except that he was a cute German boy. He was tall, had a beautiful body, and he met me on the dance floor last Saturday night. I thought he was good-looking, but he looked young. I danced with many different men that night, but this one pursued me the hardest. Or maybe I pursued him? It's hard to say, and it doesn't really matter.
This may be distasteful to say, but as I mentioned before, I love the power that my body gives me. It’s surprising how compelling the suggestion of sex is over men. I would say the same about women, but I would argue that in the social scene, the market of meat that any bar or club turns into in the late late hours, it is often the woman who makes the choices. Men are at our mercy. We choose whose blue balls we will grant reprieve.
As the night wore on, I realized that I was in the mood. In a bad way. This is another thing that I am finding incredibly surprising—that I am such a sexual person. When I was married, I was never in the mood for sex. Even the idea of foreplay was a turn-off because I knew I would always end up in the kind of ‘adult situation’ that I was just not interested in. It is hard to believe that that part of my body and mind was dead for 4 years.
Well, last Saturday night, though I was at the mercy of my urges, I knew I would have little problem finding satiation if I so chose. This is terribly arrogant to say, huh?
He lived far. We took a cab and he pulled me by hand into his place. He put on music. The lights never came on. He had a beautiful, lean body.
I put on one of his shirts and padded barefoot down the hall to smoke a cigarette. He waited for me on his bed and pulled me into his arms and kissed me until we both fell asleep.
At some point, sunlight was filtering into the room and he was kissing me again. Suddenly, he was completely awake. The intensity of his needs was unexpected, though gratifying. We fell asleep again.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Hung over.”
“That’s not what I mean…”
“Ok… I think… I don’t normally do this.”
“I don’t believe you,” he smirked, but then touched the side of my face when he saw my widened eyes.
“Really. I don’t.”
“I actually do believe you.”
“Damn right you should believe me.”
I kept on moving to sit up and get sorted to leave, but he kept on pulling me back onto his chest.
“Stay a little longer.”
“I’ve got to meet my friends in a little.”
“What are you doing?”
“It’s Easter Sunday. I’m going to church.”
“I should go to church… but I’m not going.”
“You should only go if you believe.”
“I do believe.”
Pause. “Let’s not get into that.”
“Agreed.”
He watched me as I put my clothes on.
“You’re beautiful.”
I didn’t look at him, “Do you really think so?”
“I wouldn’t joke about something like that.”
I don’t even know how I responded to that. I was confused. I didn’t understand why he was saying nice things to me. Didn’t you already get what you wanted?
“I’ll walk you to the bus stop.”
“What’re you kidding? I’m going to take a cab.”
“All the way back to your place? It’ll be expensive.”
“I’ll take a cab to the subway—line 3.”
“I’ll still walk you out.”
I looked at him closely while he pulled on his pants. He didn’t look like an asshole. He wasn’t talking like an asshole. We had already slept together, but yet he still wanted to walk with me? Why was this surprising to me?
“P. Thank you. I would feel pretty lost if you didn’t walk me out.” Down the stairs, “so how do you like living here?”
“It’s way too small, but it’s better than living on campus.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, I’d have to have a roommate.”
I laughed, “And then you wouldn’t be able to bring girls home, huh?”
“Yes. That would be a problem.” We continued down a hill, past store fronts and Sunday morning walkers. He slowed down, “so, would you like to get a coffee or something?”
Again, I was surprised, “uh, sure. I could really use a coffee right now.” We found a coffee shop close to the bus stop. While we waited for our lattes, I gave him a chagrinned look, “so, this is a little awkward, huh?”
“Yes, but I think this is important… not running away and facing each other in the morning.”
“You don’t understand how much I appreciate that. I’m just really thrown off, is all.”
“Why?”
“Well, men are assholes.”
“I’m trying not to be one.”
“This is why I’m surprised. And appreciative.” We sat outside and talked and sipped our coffee. He was thoughtful, fairly intelligent, and 24 years old.
“Um… I’m 24 too…”
“I never ask a woman her age.”
“Thanks. I’m always getting asked my age in this country…”
“So, can I give you my number? You could call me?”
“Hm… well, I’ll give you my number. You can call me.” He walked me to the bus stop and waited until it picked me up. I gave him a hug.
He texted me later that day.
I am ever surprised. Maybe men aren’t all quite the beasts that I think they are?
No comments:
Post a Comment