One Night Stands.
A friend of mine once told me that I’d like sex, because it’s seeing the one side of someone that’s secret.
And it scares me.
Other than worrying about STDs, getting pregnant, etc.
It’s the part of the night when you’re completely naked with each other. And not uncomfortable about it either, because you’ve seen or touched everything already.
And moments ago, you were completely dressed. Talking about where you’re from and what you do. Making small talk and mindless conversation.
That was what scared me about Mr. Diplomat. How his boring, flat self could turn around 180 degrees with the wit and charm. How his guarded, unseductive self could unwrap himself into this suave lover.
And the eagerness with which he held me- I mean, held my hand, held me in his arms.
The secrets people tell you. And the compliments they give with such sincerity.
i’ve never met anyone like you
you’re so beautiful
strange and wonderful, all at once.
And sleeping with someone’s arms around you, begging you not to put your clothes on, begging you to let them hold you a little longer, trapping you to their body.
I remember very little of the sex.
It’s these shapes and words that stay with me. The shape of his adam’s apple and I saw it from under his chin. The smooth way that his limbs connected to the rest of his body. Feeling someone’s heart beat.
Having sex in the morning. In the sunlight. With someone you’ve just met.
Showering together and taking turns under the hot water. I remember running my fingers through his hair, watching the bubbles disappear and clear. Imagining his face as a babe as he stood so helplessly, melting in my hands.
It’s a dull pain and bright fascination as I think about this person. This figment of my imagination, hardly real at all - out there somewhere in the world.