Not last summer, but the summer before, life was going along quite smoothly. I had a job I enjoyed. I was involved in projects which fulfilled the liberal thinker in me. I had put the worst of Mr. Jackass behind me, and accepted that it was time to move on. I was content with my singleness, and was not looking for attachment to fulfill my life in any way. I had a mass of good friends who ranged from those who would make me laugh, to those who make me think, to those who would make me drunk.
But one day it changed. I can't tell you the exact date it changed. With any certainty I can't even say which month. I think it was August. It might have been September. It could have been as early as late July. I don't really know when it changed but it did. And it hit me like a freight train.
Don't get me wrong, I should have figured it out before then. At least one person had asked me before then. But honestly the thought had never crossed my mind. See, my friends...all my friends...are anatomically incorrect, at least in my head. I'm sure they have the necessary pluming, I just don't think about it. When you spend as much time as I do around the opposite sex, it helps to not think of them as a sex at all.
I don't think things changed for him then. I don't know when things changed for him. And to say "changed" amplifies the reality of what it was. It wasn't a change as much as an awareness. It wasn't that I "liked" him. I just started noticing him. I would notice how strong his hands were. I would recognize the ripples of muscles under his shirt. I noticed the everchanging blue of his eyes. Hell, I realized he had eyes! And all of that took me down the logical course to thinking about...well...his pluming.
For weeks I sat pondering the oddity of what was happening. Being the overanalyzer that I am, I looked at the situation from every angle. At that moment in time I didn't want to be attached to anyone. I didn't want a boyfriend. I didn't want a relationship. I didn't want someone to want to move in and take over my life. I didn't want someone who would want to become part of me, and I didn't want to let anyone in. But, the undeniable fact of the matter was I was horny. It had been a long time. A REALLY long time.
All in all he seemed a safe bet. He's not the relationship kind of guy. I knew him well. I knew he didn't have any creepy diseases. I knew he didn't have a wife tucked back away in the woods somewhere. I knew he wouldn't try to infringe on my life anymore than I would try to infringe on his. It seemed the perfect solution. I'd get some, and then he could go back to being anatomically incorrect.
Simple, right? Hardly. We spent weeks and weeks dancing around the issue. We both knew what we were after. We'd "wrestle" around on the floor, and then stop. We'd chase each other around the apartment, and then stop. We'd play footsie, and then stop.
For weeks.
And weeks.
And weeks.
But during this time we developed routines that we still hold on to. Tuesday nights are our "hangout" nights. Friday nights are "movie/go out drinkin/non-date nights". Sunday nights are thrown in there just in case one of the other nights falls through. There's almost always a bottle of gin in his freezer for me. And we each have our own end of the couch.
Then one night...I can't tell you with certainty exactly when, sometime in September or October, it finally happened. We were cuddling on the couch, watching a movie, the same as we did most Friday nights by that point. He moved a little. I moved a little. He rubbed my back under my shirt a little. I moved a little more. I rolled over to look at him, we started kissing, and it was like an avalanche. We couldn't have stopped it if we wanted to. I don't know how long he had been thinking about it. For all I know the thought had just crossed his mind. But I had been waiting for EVER!!!
And it was horrible. Awful. Terrible. The worst. Indescribably bad. Now I don't even remember why it was so bad, or what it was that made it so awful. But it was. Seriously. Awful.
We didn't talk about it then. I fully expected that to be the one and only time that ever happened. At that point I was kind of hoping it would be the only time it ever happened. But as time went on, the competitive side in me popped up. I don't do things bad. I do not fail. It is in my nature. I could not let the only time we had sex be BAD! I couldn't let him think I was the reason it was bad, and I knew he would think it was me...because...afterall he is a man.
A few weeks later we tried again. It's never been like the first time again. Thank God.
We've had many times along the way where we could have jumped ship. There have been many occasions where we both could have shook hands and gone to our own corners. This was one of them. I wonder now what would have happened if we had. I don't wonder with regret, I don't regret anything. I just wonder what would have been different, and why we didn't.
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5 comments:
Good post.
I'm sure there are many, many innumerable ways it could have gone. I think this way about my own situation sometimes. What if I had really cut him off after the first time? What if I really ended it when he was an asshole? What if I got involved with someone else? I find it very hard to form the alernatives after this many years have gone by. But I do know what you're saying.
I never thought about the what-ifs during the first two years of my relationship with Loki. But I should have. What if I hadn't waited for him? What if I wasn't convinced that he was the one? What if I actually dated other people?
The what ifs can drive you crazy. I think that it happened because you both were meant to be where you are.....it's the way of the universe....
And, just as a side note..... My first time with my fuck buddy was also awful. I mean yeah, the kissing and the foreplay were fabulous. But, the sex.....horrible. He lasted all of like a minute and a half. He even apologized!
excellent post.
i'm going through this right now. like you, we'd been threatening to get right down to it for a while, and it finally happened over the weekend.
at the moment, i feel horrible and i don't want to do this ever again.
what if is the worst question on earth though. always leads to the inevitable headf*ck. it's happened, no point wondering how it could've been different.
For years I believed the stupid pizza metaphor..."even bad pizza is still good", which of course is not true. Bad is bad, whether it's pizza or anything else.
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