This story starts with a trigger warning, but not about the date!
Last Tuesday was my birthday. In the course of checking
in with loved ones, I found out that someone close to me had had The Bad Thing
happen to her on a date over the summer. I was glad she trusted me enough to
tell me, and she seemed like she was doing okay, considering. But I was devastated
and wondered if I needed to cancel my Wednesday night date! It seemed unfair to
have any kind of body fun in the same world where a loved one had been so
harmed.
But I knew it wasn’t bodies’ fault, and I was reasonably
sure this guy was good and safe. He’s 27, so I figured he had matched with me
purely for curiosity/millennials-have-a-mature-fetish reasons, but he seemed genuinely
interested in me as a person. We talked about books and he’s reading The Sum
of Us. One of my all-time favorites! We exchanged Spotify links and he
picked two favorites from my Virgo Season mix: Good Riddance (see above)
and Always Something There to Remind Me.
And he was calling me Ma’am! And being so kind and
respectful! His smile was radiant and, in mostly chaste pictures, the rest of
him was beautiful. I was touched by his attentiveness and turned on by his
beauty and bravery. The energy emerging between us reminded me of The Good Boy
from 2022—warm, avid, and Mine.
When he asked if there was anything he needed to do
for the date, I said “Bring flowers.” Ma’am life is so good, especially during
my birthday week!
He came up my driveway with two long bunches of
flowers (pink alstroemeria and purple something-like-delphiniums) and a birthday
card with no envelope. He looked so happy and hopeful and ready for praise—deeply
adorable. We walked arm-in-arm up the driveway to my door, and went in.
He’d wanted me to sweep him in the door and take charge
right way, and I don’t think I did it the way he’d pictured! I told him to have
a seat while I put the flowers in some water. When I joined him on the couch,
he said eagerly “What do you want me to do?”
“Let’s just sit here and be people”
So we talked about shows. I inexpertly summarized the
plot of Yellowjackets and rhapsodized about how it’s almost Gilmore
Girls time. (The twenty-first night of September!) He mentioned loving Rick and
Morty and old seasons of South Park and I put those upsetting choices in his
file but didn’t hold them against him. I wanted to hold myself against
him!
We were in the middle of a (Try not to think about the
end of the world!) heatwave so everything was warmth on warmth on warmth. He
kissed me in the middle of our TV conversation and it sent flutters up through
me—just right. An of course whispered through my body. I have been truly
blessed with the good kissers lately. If I believed in Karma, I would think I
was being very, very rewarded for some good deed I can’t quite think of.
“What do you want me to do now?” He asked again. Look
up “topping from the bottom” in the dictionary and there’s his beautiful
smiling face!
“Five more minutes,” I said, and we stayed there on
the couch, chatting and kissing.
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