“So, tonight’s your big date? Did you shave your legs?” A coworker asked with a sly smile.
“I haven’t decided yet.” I replied, still truly torn about the wisdom of shaving.
“You NEVER shave on the first date, Athena! EV-ER!” Said a second co-worker. She’s a baby-boomer and looked at me over her glasses to impart the importance of what she was saying. “NEV-ER.”
I smiled and nodded, because that is what one does to a baby-boomer with antiquated moral opinions. Don’t argue, just smile and nod. Then I drove home and promptly shaved my legs.
The Portland City Bar and Grill is on the 30th floor of a downtown building. I decided to wear my white sun dress, the shell necklace Pha sent from Spain and red Mary Janes. I got there early to scope out the place, find a good people watching spot and re-center myself so I could engage in conversation and not be scattered and nervous. It only partly worked.
The view is spectacular, and the sun was setting as Matt strolled in wearing a blue dress shirt, dark dress pants and carried a single red rose.
The piano player was working his way through West Side Story and I recognized Matt immediately and stood up to greet him.
He’s 27, 6’3” and has deliciously blue eyes. Short blondish hair and a full smile made it really easy to relax, but holy hell, Batman – he came loaded with 20 questions. From the moment he handed me the rose and sat down, to the time we moved to our table – I only really had breath to answer a steady stream of questions and every time I thought I had time to inhale and ask one of my own – he beat me to it.
It felt a little like being put on the defensive right away, but I recognized it also as possibly a nervous response. I don’t have anything to hide, I’m a blogger, so I answered everything. A note on the rose, at first when I saw it, I was a little embarrassed. I wasn’t sure why, but the more I thought about it, I think it was because – I’ve gotten flowers from my girlfriends, sisters and on three occasions during the 8 years I was married. In High School I got flowers and such but it’s really been a number of years since a man picked out a rose with me in mind. I was in fact, ridiculously touched and add to that the glances people sent my way as I carried it around – I started to feel, for the first time in a long time – someone had made the effort to make it clear to everyone around what he thought of our date, and despite my earlier reservations I found myself trying a little harder to respond likewise.
We moved to a table were we both ordered and talked for another hour or so.
On my Mercurylovelab profile, it asks you how you like your eggs and I said, “Sunny-Side up.”
So halfway through dinner he offered to make me breakfast, “I make fabulous Sunny-side up eggs.”
“That wasn’t even slick.” I said and tried really hard not to laugh. He recovered well and we continued chatting when he suggested we walk down the street to Voodoo Doughnuts for dessert. After he had the Coco-Puff doughnut and I had a fresh chocolate covered bar. We went to Imbibe on Hawthorne where we listened to some live music and played a game of hangman on the paper mat on the table. When it was his turn to make a word, he chose two and after I got the ‘I’ and the ‘S’ I realized it said “Kiss me”. So I leaned across the table and started to kiss him.
His kiss was intimidating. Strong and overpowering so I pulled back unsure.
It was then that I decided to move things along a little more. “You wanna go down to a little park near here?”
So we went to the park where I practice Poi and walked out into the center of the field to lay on the grass at 12:15 am.
I had some decisions to make. Some fast thinking about my fear of intimacy and how much I enjoyed his company. As I sat in the grass a few feet away, I knew, if I didn’t act on the impulse to get back into the game – I would likely chicken out of a date two – and if I didn’t chicken out, I would find a reason to not get near enough to let him touch me. If I didn’t act tonight – I likely wouldn’t act at all. I would probably find a plethora of excuses not to see him again and crawl back into my cave. And lately, my cave has started to feel a little isolated and somewhat empty.
So I told him I was cold and scooted next to his body for heat. We made out on the grass in the park. It’s been almost two years since I let anyone get that intimate with my body and although I was turned on – my body wasn’t waking up, responding to stimuli like I thought it would. There was some sort of disconnect going on between my brain, my body and my spirit. Although I was having fun, there wasn’t that deep core shiver and I wondered – perhaps it’s been so long, my body doesn’t really remember what it’s supposed to do, or how it’s supposed to feel…
So when he offered again to make me a plate of sunny-side up eggs – I said, “okay.”
I followed him to his house in Hillsborough, but stopped at a gas station to get gas and ran in to buy a pack of condoms.
I stood at the checkout with my ultra-sensitive rubbers and a Red Bull at 1:30 am and the clerk refused to make eye contact. I followed his car as my legs shook so bad I could barely operate the clutch and I kept wondering, “What am I doing? Is this a bad idea?”
At one red light I sat behind his car and thought, this could be the thing I need to bring my parts back together. This could be the contact, even if it’s just for one night – that wakes me up enough inside to really stand up again and walk forward without the ever present fear of really being touched, both physically and emotionally.
The light turned green and we rolled through the intersection and just that fast, my mind shifted again and I almost flipped a bitch in the road to start driving the other way. Panic seized my stomach and I thought, “The cave isn’t so bad. It’s warm. I have lots of books in there…”
But I thought of my BlissQuest. I thought of getting a dozen emails from Meme in the morning telling me I was a dumbass for not taking the chance. I thought of BrianM, and Mona and Jeffy and everyone who has watched this fear make my choices for me – and I knew then, even though I was terrified – I don’t want this fear holding me back from what could potentially be a touch of Bliss. Otherwise – it’s not really the BlissQuest anymore, it’s just me being a chicken shit. I’m a good judge of character, and Matt wouldn’t hurt me – so it was time to put my foot on the pedal and catch up to his car.
Once my mind was made up, things went smoother. I toured his apartment which is clearly a bachelor pad and immediately I picked out all the things I thought were endearing, (a collection of large nerf guns, comics, movies and good art).
Then I walked into his room and froze – A giant metal framed four-poster bed, huge pillows and mirrors – and oh yeah, a pair of handcuffs on the nightstand.
So – that’s how it is, I thought, and knew I’d picked the right person to help me get over my hang-ups.
I don’t know how much you want to know. Admiral Fubar, you might want to stop reading now or you could be scared for life.
It’s been awhile, obviously, and my kisses felt clumsy, my limbs awkward. I felt like I was trying to dance but my feet were tangled in invisible strings. Some things come back quick; rhythm and knowledge of erogenous zones. The scent of sex immediately evokes the instinctive muscles to move correctly even when the brain is in spasms over the logic of it all.
He was smart, reassuring me we could stop anytime I said the word. He was astonishingly intuitive about the anxiety I had and kept pulling my face to his to make eye contact, and not letting me look away when he’d ask if I wanted him to keep going. Twice when I said yes, he stopped pulled my face to his, and made me make eye contact and repeat myself before continuing. Whether he admits to being a Top or not – he’s very good at it.
I didn’t expect it to hurt, in fact I was so surprised, I think it startled us both. He was energetic and sometimes got a little carried away. I recognize now that I was in a little bit of an overload because reflecting back on it, I was often wriggling diagonally across the bed in an attempt to make all the stimuli slow down so I could process. But ultimately it felt good so I didn’t try too hard.
By the time we finished I knew I’d be sore the next day. As I fell across his body, twisting my fingers through the patch of hair on his chest I suddenly felt like such a chick. I was sated on many levels but insecure on a whole new arc of emotional responses.
I opened my mouth to ask, “Did you enjoy yourself? Was I any good? Did I do okay?”
Then snapped my mouth shut again and thought, “Good GOD! Where the hell did that come from!” Thank god I stopped that spew of questions!
Ultimately, I said, “I’m feeling a funny range of Chick emotions right now so I need a few minutes to process all this.”
What I wasn’t sure about talking to him about is that I rarely have ever been able to sleep next to people I have sex with. There have been a few, but for the most part, I cuddle because I know they want to, and I stay awake staring at the ceiling while they sleep. There’s so much vulnerability in letting yourself sleep next someone you don’t have history with. How can you defend yourself if you’re asleep? How can you sense danger and run away?
Some guys have been offended in the past so I don’t usually mention it. But then he said, “Don’t be upset if I get up and start walking around at night. I sleep walk.”
“Oh! Okay.” And suddenly I felt a whole lot better for some reason.
“Uhm, and,” he started… “I don’t actually have eggs until I go grocery shopping.”
I laughed and pushed myself closer to his wamth.
Strangely, by the time I snuggled myself into the crook of his warm body – I fell fast asleep – emotionally over-stimulated, sexually exhausted and feeling uncommonly physically safe.
A couple of hours later I woke covered in the sweat of our two bodies tangled together. My stirrings caused him to stroke my back and caress my arm in his sleep. I was groggy and my body still hummed so I felt my way down his belly and took hold of him – to wake us both the fun way again.
An hour later I fell asleep on him again and it never really crossed my mind that I should go home. It never worried me that I was vulnerable next to him even though he was much large than myself. I felt like I couldn’t actually be more safe – and because I felt selfish – I was willing to take it while it was there. Human contact. A sense of safety and a warmth that I’d been desperately missing. A touch of Bliss.
Morning surprised me that I’d slept so soundly, an hour of snuggled and playful kissing and joking about morning breath I finally decided to do the walk of shame to the car and go home.
He asked me to come back for pizza and a movie and I really had to think about it. Finally, as I laid there I decided to tell the truth. “I don’t know if it’s safe for me to see you again. It could go like this – I’ll either get home and once I’m away from you I’ll get scared and find excuses not to find myself on the same side of town – OR – I’ll not be able to wait to see you again and I’ll go though a rollercoaster of emotional girly feelings until I stabilize and that could be uncomfortable for both of us.”
I don’t know how smart it is to say exactly what’s on your mind first thing in the morning, but he assured me that he would be happy to see me tonight or if I felt safer maybe next weekend. I rested my chin on his shoulder and played with the hair on his chest for awhile as I thought about it.
“I’d like to come back for dinner.” I said.
“YES!” He hissed and kissed my forehead.
He insisted on walking me to Freya, even though I said I’d be fine. He joked that the neighbors would throw things and scream “harlot” if I didn’t have an escort. So I laughed and agreed, it was Hillsborough, so he might not have been joking, but still- parting was awkward in that next morning way.
As I drove home I went over in my mind what I really thought about him;
He’s young in so many things. He’s also a much more grounded personality than I am. We both have copies of ‘Good Omen’s’ next to our bed. We read the same books, watch the same gory Zombie movies, get excited over geeky things – but he’s not comfortable in his own skin yet.
Perhaps he just doesn’t know me well enough, but people who are really comfortable in their own skins don’t need to know someone well to live in their energetic space efficiently. He’s still not sure about really claiming his Geekery to me or the public at large. He’s charming and funny – snarky, even. And everyone knows I dig snarky.
He seems like he’s perhaps on the rebound a little emotionally, and maybe even recovering some of the parts of his own bliss that he gave away to other people.
I have a great deal of sympathy for that – because reclaiming the things that make you feel strong, and alert to life are the hardest things to admit that you A) really want and B) that you may have given them away.
He claims to be shy, but in he had no problem taking the lead, asking hundreds of questions and literally charming my panties off. He’s a dominant personality, but I suspect that it’s less about the act of being a Top and more about the efficiency of making things flow faster, and for the moment – that’s okay.
I hung my rose up to dry and I’m getting ready to go see him again. The hardest part is done, and I’m sure in a couple of days I wonder why I was so scared to begin with.
Maybe I’ll take a carton of eggs over to his house tonight.
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