Nose to nose

The fabric between us was maddening. Finally we were in my bed. I wanted him inside me so badly…

I decided that our flirtation had gone on long enough. I brought him home with me. After we had both made out with the same boy, the young one, who I sent home alone.  In my elevator again, where things happen. Start. or continue.

He wasn’t as grabby with me as I was with him. Although he fucked me desperately through the fabric of our pants. But he wouldn’t move to take anything else off. Why, I asked. He wouldn’t say. Our friendship? His other hookup? Did his experience with men outmatch that with women? Please, let us fumble with each other’s bodies.

The morning was intimate, not at all awkward. In the state between self-consciousness and sleep, we faced each other, nose to nose. My leg across his body, his hand firmly on my leg. I caressed his chest, arm, neck. Placed my palm on his sternum. I peeked at him, his prominent thyroid cartilage, his freckles, his very present and firm, but not bulging biceps. My lips found his shoulder.

Just a week ago I did something similar with a woman. But this feels different. I loved her soft body and put my mouth all over her in the morning. But something was missing from that. The caress. There was no nose-to-nose sleepy wakefulness.

Addendum:

In retrospect, I realize that maybe this was just a moment. A moment our friendship allowed us to have. But just a moment. 

Bad Decisions

One night, several months ago

She danced closer to me than she knew she should. Each time our arms went a little further around the other. An abrupt parting when a group of women walked by – what if one of them was her? But none of them were, so she put her arms around me again, back in rhythm, laughing about something. When she finally arrived, I got ignored. Home alone in bed, I felt as confused as I had the past couple times this happened. We were friends and there were so many reasons I shouldn’t feel anything about her.  Her neuroticisms, strange love for her dog, our mutual close friend, my best friend. Such good reasons to not go beyond friendship. Maybe it’s just been too long since I made a bad decision knowingly. Maybe it’s just comfortable.

One night, this weekend:

I was annoyed when she texted me that the girl she was dating broke up with her – why should I care anyway? I was trying to keep my distance, and doing a good job. We talk occasionally, but she’s still the same selfish immature girl, even if I did love her. Blake, that is. She is working on things and I am so glad because I care about her, but I don’t want to get back with her. I just wanted to hold her. I texted her something dumb, something about what I should eat for dinner. She texted me asking if she could come over. Of course. We watched tv. I made dinner. She put her head on my shoulder. I put my head on her chest. She put her head in my lap. She asked to stay on my couch. I gave her a toothbrush. I invited her to my bed. We slept, I held her. It’s ok though, because I feel in control of the situation, in control of my feelings. It’s ok, right?