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Posts Tagged ‘fucking’

It’s funny, meeting someone in person whom you have been virtual friends with for over a year. Nearly 13 months of sexual tension and in person, we are comfortable pals, yet beyond that, perhaps not much else. Internet Skype boy was having a weekend of bad reactions to some new migraine meds which ironically were causing low drive issues. The irony does not sneak past me here. I wanted a weekend of unbridled carefree fucking after 11 months of loving someone who had low sex drive issues and low interest issues. Nonetheless, we did have sex on Friday night, but the first time you fuck anyone is odd, grooves not found, rhythms not synced, and so I extended my trip one more night, to see whether things could line up more.

In between my first and last night… Parisian Macarons from BisousCiao. in flavors like Sour Cherry, Champagne Cocktails from Bubble Lounge and strolls through the Bowery. Apple Cider from The Union Square Greenmarket, naps on $7,000 couches at The Conran Shop, viewings of Time Bandits, and jokes about how I have lost my NYC street cred after ten years away.

So, how was the sex, second go around? It’s different. It’s not Type Geek. I was detached, yet forced to be present because of the sensation of fucking someone much larger than your previous partner. We fucked, it was fine. It was the punctuation, the ending to my one-sided relationship with a man I loved who couldn’t give anything except the occasional dinner, concert or overnight snuggle. Until there was sex with someone else, there was always just going to be Type Geek in my rearview mirror. After Skype boy and I fucked, after he washed up and went to bed, I laid there. The only night I was unable to relax and sleep. I missed Type Geek, even the small amount that I had him, the small amount that snuck through without him seeing it cozy up to me. I couldn’t help but wonder, has he thought of me at all since he saw me last. Did he ever miss me or was I unable to imprint myself even that much on him. I know it isn’t a reflection on me, it is merely a reflection on him and his bigger deeper issues, but nonetheless, I feel the loss and miss the him that I knew in those dark quiet hours between dusk and dawn.

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I don’t talk to people on the phone prior to meeting them. I know this sounds odd. There are a number of reasons for this though. First, you can’t see someone’s face, so you may not be able to pick up subtleties in the conversation. Second, some people are poor telephone conversationalists but GREAT in person. It isn’t fair to make the telephone conversation your first impression of them. Third, and last, IF the conversation flows, a false sense of intimacy can occur. So, I like to meet for coffee as soon as possible and see if investing in awkward conversations on the telephone are worth the hassle. No spark, no need, right?

Well, Mr Bratty McLawyer turned IT Guy, or Bratty McLaw, as I will call him, insisted that I call him. UGH, FINE! He was cute and charming in his messages and his profiles, so I figured I would go ahead and break that one rule. I wanted to hang up on him after talking to him for an hour. I was finding him to be egotistical, self-centered, arrogant, insulting, condescending and rude. It didn’t seem like the man who had been corresponding with me, so I spoke up and gave him a bit of a verbal smack down and, after being stunned silent, he apologized for how he came off and changed course to try to resurrect the conversation, if possible. We spent 10 hours on the phone. The sun came up and I said good-bye to him and hung up as I locked the door behind me and headed to work. It wasn’t an amazingly passionate conversation. It wasn’t even that we connected in some deep sense. The conversations pale in comparison to the things said in my shared silences when I was with Brooklyn, however, he was interested and charming, so I kept talking. I am far too old for a night without sleep these days.

I came home from work and took a few hours nap, and began some laundry. It was chilly out however and I really wanted to get out and have a cocktail by a fireplace somewhere. My other possibilities were not available, so I texted Bratty McLaw and asked if he wanted to have a drink in a few hours. He eagerly confirmed and we agreed to meet in 2 hours.

Shower, run to laundromat, move clothes to dryer, run home, apply make up and finish getting dressed, run to laundromat and grab dry clothes, run home and drop off, walk dog, grab purse, catch bus to subway, subway to taxi and drive by as he is walking down the street thinking he will meet me at the train station. Umm, I said I would meet you at the bar silly boy. Geez. Luckily I saw him and was able to get the cab driver to pull over and let me out early. I rang him on the phone and proceeded to direct him in my direction. There was a humourous moment of voyeurism that I found myself stuck in as I was able to pull his strings and move him without his knowledge as to where I was or how I was able to see him so clearly when he didn’t see me anywhere.

He was cute in person. Not breathtaking, but attractive. Softer facial features than the photos in his profile implied. We decided, as we stood on the street, that my original location choice for a rendezvous wasn’t actually what either of us were feeling. So, we opted to walk to his car and drive over to a different bar. Chemistry, mmm, ish. 6′ 2″, blonde, fit but not gym rat like, comfortable smile, arty glasses, and just enough vanity to be self-confident in person. I was honestly worried that he would be the schmuck I was thinking he might be when we first started chatting the night earlier. This person though, it wasn’t there. Perhaps it was nervousness that led him to project the persona of douche bag shithead, but luckily, whatever it was, it was nowhere in sight when we were in person.

We arrived at the second bar around 10 pm. It was dead. Which, honestly, was quite fine. We sat at a high top and each ordered a glass of wine. He was snackie, so we also had some spinach artichoke dip. Conversation was friendly. By the second glass of wine, he was reaching for my hand and stroking my arm. By the 3rd, he was kissing me. Did the kisses overwhelm me and leave me speechless? No, but they were quite good. His kissing style is similar to mine and it felt nice. We decided to go back to his place and make out a bit more. My dog could easily do an 8 hour span of time between potty breaks, and since it was midnight at this point, she was probably sleeping anyway and wouldn’t miss me for a few more hours, at least.

We drove back to his place and I took off my heels as we walked up to his apartment. Heels on wood stairs in these old multi unit buildings, well, I would have woken everyone in the building. He made me sit on the stair outside his unit while he took 5 minutes to tidy up. I chuckled. Knowing the current condition of my own residence, there is virtually nothing, short of live creatures roaming about, that would offend me. I live in a cluttered construction zone, bring on your mess… I can trump it right now buddy.

A few minutes later he comes out and ushers me in quietly. His roommate is sleeping on the other end of the unit so we need to be self-aware of voices and laughter. So, why put on Colbert and Jon Stewart if you don’t want me to laugh out loud?! The laughing didn’t last long however, as he made his move within 5 minutes of us sitting on the couch together. My rule for the night…. sadly overdue for a wax… I look like a hippy body hair loving freak… hands stay out of the pants and they stay on.

An hour of making out on the couch can kill any back, so, logically we move to the sleep number bed. We play with the settings, laugh some more amidst some occasional shhhh’s from the each of us to the other. So, the shirts end up off. Of course they do. Then, even though I say…warning will robinson…danger danger… furry wildebeast…stay away from the Northern region… I end up with his hand down my pants. He said that he would take note of my objection and embarrassment and keep in mind that au naturale is not my current state… and then he peeled the jeans completely off. Oh oy vey. This is not leading anywhere good, is it?

Well, leading anywhere good? Hmm, well, after a lot of frustrating teenage grinding in our undies… I stopped him and stated what we both knew. Let’s just admit that we are going to have sex and rather than keep up with this silliness under the ruse that we aren’t going to…. go get the goddamn condoms now. So, student driver finally got laid. Was in earth shattering? No. Did it need to be? No. Was he a sweet and kind lover? Yes. It was comfortable, even though I was furry as all get out and embarrassed by that. We were both exhausted from the previous nights marathon conversation and our lack of sleep, so neither of us got off in the end, but it felt great regardless. The sun was coming up as we finally disengaged and gave up on a definable finish line. We set the alarm for 3 hours, so we could get a little sleep, and then readjusted our personal sleep numbers for our individualized snoozing comfort.

The dog? She was asleep on the bed when I walked in the door at 8:45 am. She hadn’t noticed that I hadn’t come home that night, in fact, she seemed quite pleased to have the bed entirely to herself.

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