“Chirp!” went my phone.
Ben @ 1:24: Hey you! Would you like to meet for drinks tonight?
Me @ 1:32: Let me see how my day plays out.
Ben @ 1:33: I really want to see you.
Me @ 1:49: :) That’s sweet.
I met Ben last week when I was unwinding at a bar. He walked away with my number
and nothing more. He needs to thank the vodka for the number, because normally
I don’t share.
Neil @ 1:52: Hi love! How are you?
Me @ 2:02: Good! You?
Neil and I met a while back when I was in one of my must-be-kissed-or-die moods. He obliged. And, because of his olympic-level makeout abilities, walked away with my number. Neil lives a couple of hours away so we haven’t had the opportunity for
Ben @ 2:03: I can’t get you out of my head.
Me @ 2:10: I’m not sure what to say.
Neil @ 2:04: Great! I’m passing through your town tonight. Wanna meet up?
Me @ 2:11: Let me see. Can I let you know later?
Neil @ 2:12: Sure thing! ttl
Ben @ 2:12: Can I call you?
Me @ 2:13: No. I’m swamped at work. Sorry.
Ben @ 2:13: No problem. I’ll text you after work.
I pause for a moment to process the fact that two men who I found attractive are texting me in hopes of a romp. Tonight. Then I realize I’m not excited about the prospect. At all. With either of them, even though one happens to be a champion kisser. I touch the back of my hand to my forehead checking for fever. All clear. There’s no sign of a headache on the horizon either. What’s wrong with me? I avoid the issue and bury myself in work.
It’s 7:30 and I’m driving home listening to my phone chirp with text alerts that I’m in no hurry to check. But why? Why don’t I want that easy band-aid of lips-on-lips, maybe even skin-on-skin? In the past it’s always made me feel better.
I’m not changing. My wanton ways still pulse right beneath the surface causing my eyes to darken, my nipples to harden, my mound to glisten. I still crave a good hard dickin’. But perhaps I’m evolving. Because right now, sex without feelings, without depth, without intimacy, without an intellectual connection has no appeal. I want more.* Decision made.
Me to Neil @ 7:45: Hey. Tonight’s no good. Thanks for texting though!
Neil @ 7:48: That’s cool love! Maybe next time.
Ben @ 5:15: I’m heading home. You done?
Ben @ 6:01: Home. You?
Me @ 7:46: Just got home.
Ben @ 7:49: Hey! Are u getting back out tonight.
Me @ 7:51: No. Work was rough. I’m too tired.
Ben @ 7:53: No problem. Marian I want you. I’m willing to wait.
Willing to wait? Oh dear lord. If we had a mental connection as well as a physical one, I’d be getting goosebumps from that last text. But I don’t. So tomorrow or the next day I’ll find a way to gently and kindly ease him on his way. Perhaps I’ll invent a lover and explain that we’ve gotten back together. We shall see.
So here I am. Home alone, sipping a cold glass of pinot grigio, watching the sunset and breathing. Content. Happy with my decision. And waiting. For what? It’s still a vague misty presence that dances in and out of the impending twilight. Maybe it’s me, coming home to land comfortably inside my own skin at last.
*This will explored in a later post.