I’ve decided to become a wino.
At least for the next few days… then I’ll travel south with my doggy comrade, Fuzzy B, towards the gulf of Mexico, rent a cabin near the beach and swim in the ocean for several days.
And I’ll think about nothing. Just be in the sea.
My doctor told me I should be fine to quit taking my Doxycycline, which is a bit scary. I was hospitalized with Acute Lyme Meningitis a few months ago. I’m afraid of relapsing but… here goes nothing. Or something.
My new friend, Lin, practices Jui Jitsu and a bit of mixed martial arts. Otherwise, he’s an Architect.
I’m referring to the cute Asian guy I met at that honky tonk bar.
So many men I’ve been romantically involved with have been into some form of martial arts.
They often seem to enjoy trying it out on me as I’m saying and/or thinking, “I’m sure I’ll not be able to smack you in the face so go ahead… roll me up in a ball or toss me over your shoulder, pin me against the wall (which I don’t really mind sometimes)… and get it out of your system.”
Guys, seriously. What the Hell is with all the fighting.
Yes, if a ninja jumps out of some bushes to attack me one day, I’ll probably lose.
One of my MMA fighting roommates, from several years ago, was convinced that I should learn the art of knife fighting. So he coerced me into practicing with him a lot. And, I actually got pretty okay at it.
So there you go… Ninja vs. Me with a knife = Maybe I’ll win. (most likely not) But, I could possibly stab a “regular” attacker in the hands and arms a few times. Yech. Disturbing image.
So anyhow, Lin and I met for dinner which turned into a long walk then sitting on the hood of his car.
And I ended up revealing how painfully celibate I had become (By choice). He couldn’t really commiserate, to my embarrassment.
Then biting my lower lip in frustration, I was thinking of how everyone and their grandmothers are getting sexed, except for me.
And, good for them. I hope all the horny grannies everywhere are getting turned out good, upside down and sideways. And all the grandpas too, in their trouser socks and the sexy pinstriped boxers. Just… goin’ ta town.
I laughed it off and replied, “Yeah, well… I don’t really know many men here and I haven’t really been searching.” He said, “Ummm… Well, now you know me” very sweetly, and I smiled in reply to the implication, which was kind of bold actually.
Then I noticed how brown and thick his hands were. Why is it that my mind lustfully goes to thoughts like, “I bet those big, strong hands could easily crush mine in them.” What a strange, self-abasing thought. –Note to therapist.
His pants were a bit too tight so I kept staring at his groin area. It always makes me cringe a little to see testes smooshed like that and I thought My god, if his cock were to become erect, what then? There’s nowhere for it to go. He’ll have to unzip. Was I ready for that? Will kissing lead directly to cock holding? Do men wear tight pants on purpose specifically for this reason? Probably.
And I realized that I was staring at it in a not-so-covert kinda way.
He smiled and poked my shoulder, “Hey. What are you thinking?”
“I have to go by a friend’s house shortly so I can’t stay too much later.”
Then I laid back against his windshield and he laid next to me, on his side, and then reached over to cup my chin and brought his mouth to mine.
His lips were really warm and soft as he kissed me slowly while I held his face.
He was so gentle as his tongue moved slowly around mine that it felt incredibly intimate. My heart was pounding really hard because I hadn’t been kissed since the night before I left Korea. So I was becoming intensely aroused, pulling him in, massaging his velvety, shaved head. I love the feeling of a shaved head in my hands.
And he kept a slow, careful pace, making me dizzy.
I didn’t mean to but I moaned softly and then his free hand went from caressing my neck to gently squeezing my breasts and then he began kissing me really deep as though fucking my mouth. The kind of kiss that comes just before a man climbs on top and slides himself inbetween your legs. And he moaned as his hand was lifting the edge of my skirt and gliding up between my thighs and then began softly rubbing my panties, directly over my clit.
I couldn’t really blame him. I was giving all the signals and then signaling him again by moaning into his mouth. And my panties were getting soaked as he continued to glide the tips of his fingers over my swollen clit.
By that point a decision needed be made as quickly as possible. To fuck or not to fuck. We were halfway over that line we were treading to cross and it was nearly impossible to stop until a car drove by very slowly.
We both sat up, as if coming up for air, and the car sped up and left.
I took a deep breath and said, “Wow. Okay. Sooo… Lin.”
He was smiling really big with sexy, swollen lips and fixing my hair back into a pony tail.
“Thank you. And ahhh… I think I have to go. I promised a friend.”
I kissed him one more time, softly, then we hugged and said good night.
Maybe I should’ve invited him to come along but I don’t really like to introduce some of my old friends here.
I’m not much for reminiscing the past, other than some occasional hedonistic storytelling.
Too many of my old skeletons are lurking about, dancing a nasty jig and daggering each other silly in closets all across the Heartland… ready to shine a blinding floodlight on memories that feel alien to me now, as though someone else had created them.
I popped by to see my friend for about an hour and during time she retrieved several photos of me from an old album in her closet.
There I was… multi-colored hair and stacked boots, high on shrooms, posing nude under a blue light beneath the awning of a Cathedral. Another of me in an ex boyfriend’s lap, my hair in two long braids, wearing little more than mirrored Aviator sunglasses and sticking my tongue out to lick the tip of his nose.
If I had taken Lin there my friend would be coloring in every aspect of who she thinks I am, until I would get a massive eye-headache.
Sometimes I envy amnesiacs.
Blessed are the forgetful: for they get the better even of their blunders. -Friedrich Nietzsche
I ended up sharing a few risqué things about myself with Lin. Now I’m kind of rethinking that decision.
At any rate, I told him about the brief kleptomania phase of my life because I thought it was funny.
Starting when I was seventeen I became a bit of a klepto, for a few years. One night I stole the book, A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking from a Barnes & Noble bookstore. The clerk was refusing to acknowledge me so I said “Thanks, man! I LOVE this book!” and walked out of the store without paying for it.
After that I stole several other things. But never from family/individual owned stores or individuals. It was kinda like a social experiment. I was amazed by how often people simply don’t pay attention. Or that when you act as though you’re doing nothing wrong… people tend to believe you, usually. It also depends on how good you are at being convincing. Appearance plays a huge part in this. And people assume that you’re innocent and honest when you dress in pastel colors and Cosby sweaters.
The second thing I stole was a giant, gaudy, jewel pendant. The kind grannies wear on their crocheted sweaters. And then I pinned it to a friend’s leather jacket and he was started calling me Winona. Remember back in the day when Winona Ryder became a kleptomaniac and was busted shoplifting from Saks Fifth Avenue?
The last thing I recall stealing was a giant tire from Firestone. One night I dressed up like a cat burglar (mostly for the humor of it) and scaled a barbwire fence for that damn thing. This involved thick rope and a friend’s van. It was exhausting.
Afterwards, my friend climbed into it and I pushed him down a steep, grassy hill then we sat it on a street corner and I said, “Maybe a struggling single mother somewhere needs a new tire.”
And that’s why you can’t trust teenagers.
Also why I’m afraid of old photos and what I might be doing in them.