People say that when it rains it pours. I have felt the misty rain all week. It hasn't poured for me. I am grateful that it has just been a trickle. A spot. A bit. Just a smidge of it. I'm not debilitated or crushed by it. Or maybe I am classically compartmentalizing. Either way, it's still not that bad.
Is it worth it?
A question for a stranger. Maybe not for me. I had been living in a constant fear of the unknown. I decided to step outside of my comfort zone. For once, I actually did and I didn't feel like I was compromising myself as a woman. I am still independent. Strong willed. Unwilling to break for just anyone- for anyone at all, if I'm being honest. I just. Allowed life to come at me and enjoyed it, for once. I just. Let things be what they may.
I showed up. I was there. I didn't mean to be there, but I was. Twice this week I was told my tits are perfect. Thank you. I know. Twice this week I was told I taste so good. Thank you. I know. Twice this week I sat at a bar, feeling a little too drunk in the moment and watched someone take a personality test, at my request. Only one ended up allowing me to see all the answers. Only one asked me what personality I got. Only one asked me to read the highlights. Only one told me I was so beautiful. That I was sexy. That they wanted to know what I read. What I liked. Only one let me run my fingers through his hair... It doesn't matter.
None of it matters. Sometimes you make a connection and you cum and nothing else matters. You move on. Never see them again. Sometimes you make a once in a lifetime connection with someone and you don't cum. You don't even do much more than share some moments with them. Some stolen kisses, fondling, how do you do, thank you ma'am and you are on your way. Sometimes you don't even know if they are interested in you. Probably not. It felt like no. I don't think he was interested in me. Maybe. Is that what it's like when a man is enamored by me and I have no interest? Did he really just want to actually pet my cats? Really? Truly, then?
Some things are what they are. Experiences are temporary. People are temporary. You just have to allow things to be what they are and move forward. I have less of a reason to make a trek, now. But wasn't it always to see the guy with the intense stare who threw out my empty boxes all along? He was there. He stared. It didn't even matter than I smiled at him on Friday. He looked away from me like he hadn't stared only a few days before. I have no idea how to navigate love and lust and friendship anymore. Everything is ambiguous. It's all ambiguous.
I can't help but feel that feeling. The moments when I just was there. And he was there. He looked at me. He shared my thoughts. He told me what he thought of me. That he just wanted me. His hair is a little too long, but I don't mind it. I just ran along his hair line and felt him. He closed his eyes and I knew just then, just what it meant. Just what he felt. He told me. I don't know if I heard it, it only confirmed what I knew. He had a shiver. I told him I liked his shirt and his arms. That his hair was thick and soft. He was almost shy then, after talking so long about someone else, that moment, he was mine, he had eyes for me. His teeth were uneven, something that sends me somewhere, somewhere I cannot imagine where, but I go there. He sends me there. He read his personality to me. I looked at the highlights. He stroked my knee, under the bar. I allowed him to. Maybe I should't have, but I did. I allowed him to. I wanted to know. He stayed with me the whole time.
Looking back on it. It makes more sense that it was just it. That it was just the kind of man he is. If he even is one. Someone who just wanted to feel in the moment. Someone who just wanted to do what he does, without the watchful eye of someone he SHOULD be nervous about. He told me he isn't allowed to think. Speak. He feels no right to come alive. You don't seem quiet to me. He gave me a look then that killed me and I fought it. I fought it the whole time. Hours of fighting. In the end, I grabbed his cheeks, his hair, I feverishly kissed him and he pulled me on top of his lap. He looked at me, grinned with his teeth. Pawed at me, asking me for more and more and more.
I didn't. I didn't give him more. I put my hand on his face and I said, Get out. I am serious. Get out. I didn't mean it. I really didn't. But, time wasn't on my side. I had to leave. I had to go. And maybe it was all for the best. I couldn't help but think of it all weekend. Maybe I will for awhile. Forbidden, stolen things. Taken in the dark. For no one but me.
I didn't care. I still don't. I know that it makes me... some kind of woman. But, I didn't care in the moment. It was a moment for me. Right now, it cannot be taken from me. I'll keep it as long as I can. I truly will. It makes up for the other thing. It makes up for the thing before, the one that made me feel horribly ill. It made up for the thing after. Where I might as well been a sister. Or an aunt. Someone who has zero sexual game in the entire evening.
How strange to experience it all and have nothing to show for it. Nothing at all.
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