Perhaps it is the Leap Year madness, an extra day that somehow throws the cosmos off balance, that interrupts our schedules, that has been leaking something unknown into the air...
Or perhaps its the stir-crazy feeling people seem to be going through, so looking forward to the end of this winter, the Spring hope welling up in our throats, this weather will break soon.
Today, sunshine and temperatures in the high forties. I left my scarf at home as I wandered about this evening.
...
Laser tag could quite possibly be my new obsession. I haven't played since the early nineties. It was a friend's birthday, and he opted for laser tag, ten of use huddled together in the black-lit room, glowing vests of blue and red, our teams eager with anticipation, somewhat drunk and stoned, ready to do battle in the dimly lit maze, our lasers blasting out furiously as we ran through the tunnels.
I'll admit I had terrible gas. Horrific gas, the likes of which I hath not dealt in a very long time. I didn't consume anything our of the ordinary. I do not know what brought it on, but it smelled like something rather large and heinous died in my ass. And it probably saved my life that night.
After the Laser tag we retired to a bar I don't typically frequent, and after cake and numerous drinks we ended up at the The Bar for last call. All roads lead to the The Bar these days. My friends went off to play darts, and suddenly I found myself alone at a table, watching the game go on.
It was then I was picked up by a lady at the bar. So unexpected.
I'll admit I've found myself at a loss in front of lady-folks again. Partly I feel like I've lost the language of it all, the language of putting myself out there, feeble attempts at flirting... Feeling crushes rise up within me again, my sex-drive slowly making itself known again.
Though my heart remains the voice of reason, still a little rough around the edges, the bruise healing in its own way.
I won't go into the sordid details, though I will say I found myself quite aware of the situation, and in some ways I let things go further than they should have, but I certainly did not let it get away from me. My crazy radar blipping like a submarine invasion on the sonar... I let things go on as they did, only because it felt like an adventure to me, and I wanted to see where it would lead. It was also the first time I have been intimate with a woman since the break up, and part of me felt selfish. I needed a win.
But the situation felt all wrong. I'll admit I felt a certain voyeuristic joy upon seeing a new girl's abode. The decorations in her room, the meaningful trinkets, the cd and book collection... But then there was the actions, laying in a strangers bed, the different fragrance of a woman, her kissing style. Something about it screamed "Danger! Danger! Will Robinson," and I left her house at four in the morning, much to her dismay. (She called me a dirty hippy! Me of all people! That was the last straw.)
But I did the right thing, before things got any more awkward and worse, much like I am imagining the morning after would have been. Especially with the gas I was having, cuz that morning, oh god, I wouldn't wish that on any of my numerous enemies. Plus, I realized that I've been in that place (not specifically her bed) before, and I think I much would have preferred those actions to mean something, beyond a dirty screw.
...
Then there was last night. Again I say, something in the air these days. People are going nuts. Same bar, different girl... Not the most meaningful of conversations, but something reacted in me, and I found myself wanting again. Wanting to try it out, to be bold, to see where this thing would go.
I tried my hand at flirting, putting myself out there, trying to be more assertive, though not aggressive. I most definitely am not aggressive in these situations, but sometimes the signals get crossed.
And sometimes you find a hand placed somewhere near your crotch unexpectedly, and a ripe, mischievous smile telling you that its all right...
Though I knew from the start this was probably not going to end in the best way either. I'll admit, she was most certainly attractive, and had breasts that reminded me of the first bare boobs I ever lay eyes on in the pages of my Dad's Playboys from the seventies. There's just something about ta-ta's from the seventies, their shape and form that get my blood all a boilin'.
Ahem.
My self-esteem certainly received a nice boost, that of all the dudes at the table, and in the bar, she chose me to release her affection on, but I could taste the fleetingness of it all.
The night did not go in the direction I'd rather it did, but probably it is for the best. She fell asleep on her couch, in the blanket intended for me, as I lay on the other end of the couch, her feet on my chest, and in my face. I slept unsoundly, my feet resting on the floor, which did some damage to my back. I'm still kind of laughing about it now.
Only minor awkwardness in the morning, though breakfast was intended, did not happen, which I only half wanted to go to anyway.
...
And right now I feel somewhat "stung." I coined this term early on in my sexual history, the feeling of enjoying the afterglow of some sort of new sexual situation with someone, that slowly fades after a good day or so, and is replaced with some sort of negative feeling, the "why didn't it mean more?" Or when you ask yourself the same question, but the emotions behind it take a 180 degree turn, like, "I can't believe that happened!!! Woo hoo!" and then a full day later thinking, "damn, I can't believe that happened... (negative undertones)" I don't know how else to describe it.
...
Still, I suppose its good practice for when I actually meet someone I would like to spend time with.
And, I still got it! After all these years...
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