I thought about it. It was a long time ago. I only had snip-it’s of his character from his girlfriend. Even less from my own perspective. I didn’t allow myself to spend too much time thinking about him. He was off limits. He was taken. I had my heart aligned otherwise. He had a way about him. There was something about how he spoke so casually. Carefree. It reminded me of a man in my past. A man willing to edge as long as it took. It was more like a switch. Power. Control. One that didn’t hurt. Or at least, I didn’t notice. Not until later. The bruises showed up later. But, he peaked my interest. I walked away. I left him alone in my bathroom. Hoping I didn't come across too rude for fear of being too strong. I had an energy, I was sure of it. A strong sexual need to take him. Or let him take me. It seemed like the latter. He knew how to take the extra charge in the room and ground it. Or redirect it. I was intrigued, but I let him go. I thanked him. I said goodbye. He hugged me. I felt like he wasn't much of a hugger, but I didn't mind.
Years later... I knew he was long since tied down. Me too. I checked up on him when he posted about good records. I was disappointed to find he was taken at some point. Either way, I needed help. I reached out to him and he obliged. I was grateful. I thanked him and gave him a hug again.
He had spoken about what it was like to try to date at our age. I had tended to agree. It is difficult to find people to relate to. To understand. To find attraction that could be more in some random meetings. It seemed we were both unsuccessful. I wanted to know if he had thought about me in a similar light to what I had surpassed years earlier. I don't think I had the confidence to even think any further. I just... let the thought go. He was a good person. He just wanted to help. A hug was the end of it. I supposed. I wondered. But. I supposed.
I wanted someone. Anyone. Someone to just... ask me out. I decided to take a leap. I asked him to a thing. A thing I wanted to do. I bought two tickets and I thought... if he says no... then I'll just... forget about the cost and allow the money to go to a good cause. He took a few days to get back to me... but he did say yes. I was excited. Me. Someone said yes. To me. Finally! Not some weird person, but a weird person instead. A good weird.
I saw his headlights. I wasn't expecting a newer car. I don't know why, but I had the impression that he was... scrappy. That his life was a little more... I dunno. Punk rock. It wasn't, I guess. He looked good. I wasn't sure what to do with that. Oh no, he's hot!
It was fine. I felt like he was flirting with the bartender. Maybe he just wanted her attention. *Roll for initiative* Either way, I suppressed my jealousy. I drank instead. I looked at myself in a infrared map and I realized how fucking horny I am on the big screen. He could see it too. Where I am the hottest. All the things I wished that he would want to touch. I let it go and kept drinking.
He drove me home and I just kept babbling. I asked if he wanted to come in or just drop me off. Of course I want to come in, I'll find a parking spot. I was happy, but I let it go. Maybe he is just lonely like me and just wants some more conversation. I don't know much about him. Just... what I think he may be. It's never ... clear.
We watched some silly British TV and I wasn't sure what to do. I don't usually make the first move. I asked him out. That was the first move. I just... wanted to unbutton his vest. I told that to my best friend. I wanted to unbutton every button. I wanted to feel him. I wanted to know. I wanted to know what he had to show me. Anything. All of it. Whatever he wanted.
He grabbed my feet. He massaged my feet too hard, but I thought it was a sweet gesture. I asked him, jokingly, if he was into feet. He said he wasn't and I was relieved, but also I felt weird for asking. What, exactly, is wrong with me, though? I could probably be cooler. I could probably ask a real question. Like, do you like me? That was probably too productive for me. Instead, I asked if he wanted to watch Monty Python. Nothing sets the mood like a guy buying ants.
He twitched at me. His arm flung up. He hesitated. He pulled back. I asked him... What? He said... "I was going to do... something." I was innocently asking, "what?" What did he intend? He lunged at me moments later. After I had a look at him. At how he was sitting. How he was possibly feeling. What he wanted. Or didn't. I was silenced. My mind. He answered. He lunged towards me. He kissed me. He grabbed my cheek with his hand. His body was on me. On me. I let him. I wanted it. I allowed him to lift his hands over and under my shirt. I untied the bow. I unbuttoned. I opened. I let our tongues collide and smooth over each other. I touched his cheeks, his hair, his beautiful, curly hair. I looked at him. He looked at me. We ran hands over each other, searching, I didn't know what he was looking for, but I liked what I was finding. I wanted more. I felt his skin, the length of his sides, smooth, his skin was pliable, not like when I was a teenager running fingers over flesh, but as an adult, allowing all the contours of fingers over smooth, soft terrain. I ran along his jeans, over what I wanted. I pulled him closer. I wanted all of him. Regardless of how he may come. He looked at me, suddenly. He had a yearning. Let's go upstairs. He demanded it. I wanted to oblige him. I kissed him and he allowed his weight to be on me. To lay claim to me. He pulled away again. He had a look in his eyes that made me want to call out- he was quick and nimble. He pulled and my pants were gone. I had remembered years earlier, when I met him, when I was caught up in another man's touch, how it took a long time to get to that point. To where he struggled to pull off my pants. How awkward I felt. I felt like apologizing for how long it took. In that moment I realized what a fucking pussy that man was. What a MAN this man was. That he had no hesitation. He wanted to taste me. To feel me. And he took me. I let him, I was willing to know what he felt like... what he tasted like.... And soon enough, I was salivating and reaching for him. I wondered what he had.... what he could work with... I am never judgmental, but I was pleased by what I found. Smooth and generous. I took him. I was thinking with how persistent he was, that it would be difficult, that I would not be able to take him all in. That I would be pressured by him to be pushed to my limits... I was... surprised. Pleasantly. He was... urgent. Strong. He was.... demanding. He was stern and firm. But, he wasn't... He just wasn't.... off-putting. I wanted all of him. I had it. I encouraged him to take advantage and he didn't. He just... allowed me to do what I wanted. He grew tired of not being in control. He took me. He kissed me, my mouth, around. He grabbed my neck and I had a fleeting feeling of rules I had told lesser men, don't choke me. I don't know why that is a turn on for people. I don't want to feel like I'm dying. But he had grabbed the back of my neck in a way that didn't make me feel unsafe. I just, only could look at him. I wanted to look at him. Stare at his beautiful face and blue eyes. He is incredibly handsome and I wanted to look at him. I just hoped he thought I was okay to look at as well.
I was too drunk and in my own head. I just... saw him. I felt him. I wanted to know more. I had a good time just looking into his face. Accepting my fate. Wanting him to keep telling me what it was I was supposed to be. I didn't have to think. I didn't have to do anything. I just... wanted to feel him. To know how he was in this moment. It's strange to think back on now, but.... I just.... wanted that feeling. Of being wanted.
Let's go upstairs... He said it again, and this time it was a command. He didn't intend to go back on it. Okay...I said it only slightly awkward. I ran upstairs and he was right behind me. I didn't know... what he felt. What he wanted. It didn't matter though. He was on me, he was in me, he was kissing me, he was feeling my skin and looking at me.
I flipped him over and he let me. You ride me so good...I didn't let the words slip by me, but I didn't say anything either. I wanted to know what it could feel like... being at that angle. Enjoying him from that angle. I had no intentions of allowing myself to be fully immersed in the moment, but I did my best. I enjoyed it. All of him. I wanted more and more. He flipped me over and before he released himself, he was outside of me, just freely flowing with himself. I tried to take him once more, as he was, and I wasn't sure if it was bad or good, but I did it. And he was done. It was done. I laid next to him wondering if he was a cuddly type, but it didn't matter. We talked briefly. About nothing. And then he announced he was leaving. I dressed and let him dress. He kissed me goodbye. And that was the end of it.
I thought about it. For awhile. I told him I liked him. That, maybe we could make it work. He said, days later, that he liked my company. That he wasn't sure it would mesh with his current situation. That his job offered him something else. Something that would take him away from a life that would lead him to be settled. I took it as rejection. I was upset. I let myself like him. I thought about his skin under my fingertips. About the way he tasted. About how he might have valued how I tasted. How he might have valued my thoughts. Feelings. Any of it. All of it. All of me. I thought he maybe felt something, too. But, in the end, he missed the deadline to come back. To share something again. It's been days and no word. I have no choice but to assume.... It's just... what it was. Just another notch in whatever it was he was etching for himself. Something... fleeting. I was an idea. I understand. It's okay. I was an idea of someone he wanted. Not what he wanted. Just an idea.
I'm always just an idea for someone. A dream. A dream for us all. I can never have it. Not all of it. Just... an idea of it all.
Maybe someday I will deserve it. All of it. I wish I knew how to deserve all. It's defeating. Deafening. It's just...
...that I'm an idea.
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