I’ve been thinking a lot about what the word “romantic” actually means to me and in this particular case I think it means being all fizzy and lonesome from no-cuddling-but-very- competent stranger sex and getting a hankering to tell my hot unavailable friend all about it. I wanted to tell The Coach about the hookup in detail to get him off, but I also just wanted to confide and get his perspective. Plus, there’s a story between us, however mismatched, and I wanted some grounding.
I sent the text to The Coach at 11:11. (Didn’t time it
that way on purpose.) I even checked this time if I was interrupting some other
lady’s evening, and he said I wasn’t.
He was slutty/sweet/curious, instructive and
encouraging. I opted not to get explicit, but I liked telling him this new
adventure. After I was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep, I confessed that if I
was gonna casual anyway, I wished I’d casualed more with him.
When I woke up the next day, I saw that The Coach had
texted at 4:33 AM and offered, you know, some more casualing.
I asked about friends with benefits, and that was fine
with him. I don’t know what that means, really, or if it’ll result in any more
adventures with The Coach, but I like that door being left open, even as it also
makes me want to jump out of my skin. If nothing else, it would be really nice
to have somebody besides my ex-wife to talk about my sex-life with! (I don’t give
her much info, but I’m pretty sure it’s more detail than she’d like!)
As for Casual Guy, I’m grateful. I liked his
instructions, his sweet voice, his unequivocal fucking. I needed it so much.
With all this adventure in the past month or so, of
course there are also triggers to care for. The line between arousal and
anxiety has always been shifty for me. I would like to spend some time being
extra kind to myself, give myself space to think and feel and crush and
process. (And get back to learning my knots!) And then I would like MORE
PLEASE, UNIVERSE, if you don’t mind.
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