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.