So, one night after MrS has gone to bed, Dude and I are sitting up talking and drinking some heavy-hitting Belgian beers (yes, the same varieties that almost got me into trouble with MrClean a few years prior – apparently the Belgish either a.) like to be drunk and horny or b.) have it out for me – at any rate, they make lovely beers). We are out in the garage having a cigarette...
I thought I was entering into my usual pattern when flirting with a male friend. I thought I would tease him a little and go on my merry way. I thought I was in control. Then he touched me, held me, breathed with me...and my world melted. I found myself flowing into lap, feeling his heart beating next to mine, my face nestled into the soft crook of his neck, inhaling his warm maleness. I found myself lost.
Stop. I become aware of myself. I worry he thinks that this means
something - that I am committed to pursuing this beyond the current (inexhaustible) moment. Me: “You know this might not ever happen again?” He hears what I am negating. Him: “It's okay, there is someone I want to have sex with more than you.” Whew. The pressure is off, the eternal moment resumes. We get up to go inside the house...we are almost to the door...I collapse against him in lust and confusion.
Stop. “Does MrS know?” he asks me. Know what? That I play on (prey on?) my guy friends? Yes. That my mind has just exploded and my world is in turmoil? No. I am weak, I took the easier answer, the one I wanted to be the true answer, the one that wouldn't make him stop holding me. “Yes?” (This is my first deception.) We go inside...I am comfortably trapped lightly under the heft of him as we lie together on the floor. He starts to take off my pants...I want. I want. I want.
Stop. “I can't.” I say. Having hit no boundaries on his part, I have bumped up against my own. He says “Okay.” and helps me put myself back together to my level of (drunken) comfort. I am now on alert (although I trust him implicitly, as he stops the instant I say "can't") and rationalizing that as long as we don't break any of “the rules” then I am fine (to be honest the tension, the “naughty” factor, only adds to my excitement). We move outside, under the stars, he holds me and touches me through my clothes and moves me – breaking no “rules” but intruding into the inner “me” that no-one but MrS has ever touched.
That is it. I am done. I tell Dude that it was fun but I have to go to bed. I crawl into bed with MrS. He wakes up some and I tell him that I “played with” Dude – he grunts – he is not happy but not mad. We sleep.
We didn't have sex. We didn't even kiss. I kept my pants on. No naked genitals came into play. So what was different?
The last time I was thrown into turmoil over my response to a boy (18 years ago!) I ended up married, which (to be fair) has worked out really well so far. What the fuck?