I have an hour. Right now. It is a small space of time. What to do? (Tapping fingers on the table) I am in a coffee house. I have coffee, a laptop, and some fun eye candy in the chair nearest me. He is tapping away on an iPad, and has made some light conversation, mostly about computers and coffee, but it is a start. He is not wearing a wedding ring, is not sitting with anyone else, and looks to be about 40. Hmm..
So why am I writing about him instead of talking to him. I have never been accused of being an introvert, so I have the social skills. Oh, he just looked up and smiled. Could it be that I am typing to hard on the keyboard? I peek over. He is on the CNN website, watching.. um. okay, sports news videos, ugh.. yep, I am trying not to notice....
So this is what it feels like to be wanting company. Okay, company is not the right sentiment. I want adult company. Male adult company. It has been too long, and I am lonely. It is not just the sex I miss, that would be easy enough to get if it was all wanted. Sex alone isn’t enough. Damn growing up and respecting my own emotions!
I remember a time when having sex was what I wanted first. The sex that came with the first rush of excitement from someone I just met, or had been seeing. The way the lips moved, the way the hands moved, the way the body moved. Drowning, willingly, in the eyes without even caring if there was a chance of being saved. It was on skin, and then...
It is the *and then...* part that is keeping me from talking any more to this delicious man near me. I can't trust myself, not yet, to not spin him into someone he can not possibly be, and myself into someone I couldn’t stay being. I can smile and flirt and be charming. I can giggle and listen and ask all the right questions. I could get his number, and call him obsessively, and internet stalk him, and become jealous and giving and invisible and demanding and self-sacrificing and belittled and victimized and pathetic and depressed and lonely all over again.
Amazing how I have our whole life written in the space of this one tiny hour, and I don't know his name. It would not matter what his name is, I would compare him to all the people who came before him, condemning him to fix them, and my past, and my insecurities, and my heart and my will power. And do it all while giving me space, and understanding me without me saying anything. He is doomed. Our relationship is over. He can go back to his sports videos on CNN and pretend I never existed.
So this rambling is courtesy of my free association and fear. It feels like a public service announcement right out of Sesame Street. It is how I am spending this hour that I have to myself. Whew, glad that is out of the way, now maybe I can find something more productive to do. I wonder if the delicious man next to me that has been watching sports videos on his iPad would like to talk. I only have about 30 more minutes. I think I will find out.
