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?

Love, all kinds

Guys, I’m worried. Friends are important to everyone right? The older I get, the more I love my friends. It took me some hard, lonely times to figure that shit out. 

#1 – when my first boyfriend broke up with me: I had pretty much ignored a bunch of my friends and I thought I was going to be living with this dude by senior year (I was a college freshman at the time). After 3 months – a whole bunch of shit went down. And who picked up my sad little puddle ass off the floor? My friends.

#2 – I was abroad for a semester and for some reason didn’t make any friends in my program: I was totally love deprived. I’m a very physical person, and I need hugs and cuddles. The only reprieve I had that semester was visiting friends who were also abroad. (Yeah, I know poor privileged college girl, traveling around Europe, but dude – I was lonely).

#3 – the year after I graduated college I lived alone. I thought it would be awesome – I lived alone for 3 out of 4 years in college (in the dorms… not the same). It sucked. I didn’t make close friends, I gained a bunch of weight (and avoided mirrors), and got into grad school (well that kind of rocked).  But again, I was lonely.

It’s important to be happy ALONE and SINGLE and without being IN LOVE. For me. For most people, I think? To be happy, whole people. The friends I made in college will be lifelong friends. And I’m content with the thought (most of the time) that I could be single forever as long as my friends love me. (and I raise a child with one of them, perhaps).

Don’t get me wrong, I love sex. I love being in relationships. But I’ve been screwed and I’ve learned that love (being in love) is transient. Or, it has been thus far in my experience. I know love can be forever, and maybe I’m just scared it ain’t. So I built up defenses, and armies, and cavalries so that if I do end up “alone,” I won’t actually be alone. I’ll have relationships and love and support from people who I feel this way about:

I may not have sex with said people, but I’ll have sex with other people. It’s that unconditional love that I want to build up around me. And I’m ok if that is from my friends, not from a long-term lover. Even though that’d be really, really nice.

So what the fuck am I worried about, you might be wondering?  Well… I’m worried about Blake. She’s awesome. And hot. And crazy smart. And makes me laugh. And seems to like me a lot. And I like her a lot. But she doesn’t seem to have friends like I have friends. She doesn’t have other people from whom she gets emotional support like I do. That worries me, homofaces. I think getting emotional support and advice and love and happiness from a multitude of people is important. I don’t think it’s possible for one person to satisfy our every need.  That’s why you have the friend who goes out for Ethiopian and talks about religion. And the friend who watches artsy films with you and discusses over homemade lattes. And the lover who holds you when you’ve had a stressful day. And the friend who tells you her woes and helps you reflect on your own. All these kinds of people enrich us, make us whole, complete us.

I want Blake to have all that. I want to keep fostering all of that in my own life. And I know I can’t be all that for one person.