Last week, I met this guy. That night, I told a friend that it bothered me on several levels. I thought we clicked (so my emotional equilibrium got a bit bothered). But clicking with anyone, while that sounds nice, can interfere with my concentration on my work. (Case in point, I’m writing this blog rather than tapping some brilliant scheme to sell more coffee.) So I’m bothered that the one whom I met is distraction. And then, there is that slight throbbing which only happens when your nether regions seem to be calling out to someone else’s. Yeah, yeah! Okay I’ll be straight about it. There was sexual tension.
That night, I said good night with a handshake and an agreement to see each other again for a scrabble match. I thought I ought to play it slow, not knowing what he is thinking.
Later that week, I got an invitation to his place. Oh, I’m an old woman. I know invitations like that carry with it an unspoken invitation to explore er, yourselves. And accepting means you are not averse to the idea. Guess if I accepted it.
Well anyway, one key result of that was an agreement to be uhm, playmates. On all levels. We both agreed that we both cannot afford a serious relationship at this point in our lives, but since we like each other’s company, both like games (the board kind and the non-board kind), and are attracted to each other, we’ll just keep it a light liaison. No demands, there-when-there, friends-and-more kind of an arrangement.
I did ask myself if I’m settling for less than I deserve. But if I am, why did I feel a certain relief that he won’t keep me away from my work? I know this is what I want. But if that’s true, why did I feel a certain disappointment that it didn’t turn out to be a serendipitous meeting which promises to be a love affair good enough to make romantic movies about? Then I thought, despite what I may often say, deep down, I guess I'm one of those girls who still hopes to be swept off her feet. But then again, I'm realistic enouch to know that the kind of sweeping-off-my-feet that is more likely to happen, and the kind I actually prefer to get at this point, is the kind he gave me when he lifted me and pinned me between his muscle-ly torso and his bedroom wall.
Anyway, for the purposes of this blog. Let’s call him Avatar, the (Last) Airbender.
3 comments:
it's about time that you got some sort of distraction away from work. :-) all work and no play makes dementia a dull girl. wink wink.
hmm. pros: you're happy. you've found an equal. your nether regions are getting more attention. you've found a worthy distraction. cons: he's a distraction. you're playing with fire and you know it.
i can't give advice to someone who probably knows more than i do. but please proceed with caution. us females are notorious for falling for, ahem, our playmates even when we said we wouldn't. been there and it wasn't a nice feeling.
Well, Ms. Lootwagon, Dementia is not a dull girl anymore. hee-hee! What she is now is confused. Iluzionada really hit a chord. I must admit after that initial encounters, the level of disturbance he is making on my equilibrium grew. I spent the past two nights consulting two of my relationship gurus, and making sense of why i felt what i felt the last time we were together. and they both advised me to keep my distance.
So yes, iluzionada, you're right, it's fire. And i'm like a moth. It's a good thing he's out of town now and i would be too for four days. But i don't want him to think i'm not okay after what happened. And yet, as he hasn't been in touch, i don't know if he isn't too.
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