Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Does That Count as Kissing a Girl?

The rains bewitched me Saturday. For starters, a late afternoon drink with a friend at a neighborhood bar turned into two bottles of wine. Next thing I know, I’ve canceled my dinner plans (and unknowingly forgot to attend another friend’s housewarming party). Then another friend joins us and whisks us down to a gay bar somewhere in the 50s on the west side. We meet up with a friend of his, drink a little more and unanimously decide it’s time for yours truly to learn what it’s like to kiss a girl.

We head down to a lesbian bar in the west village. The venue has charm but I’m unimpressed with the female selection. There are a couple cute girls but I’m informed they’re only interested in lesbians. I dance a little, drink a little more and end up cornered by a woman who is flatteringly enthusiastic but not in the least bit to my taste. She also reeks of garlic. I abort the mission. Instead, as I’m leaving, my gay male friend grabs me and shoves his tongue down my throat. My first thought is, “Whoa,” and my second is, “Why not?” He’s really hot, which doesn’t hurt. I still giggle when I think about it. Does that count as kissing a girl?

I then put myself in a cab and head straight for – check this – a booty call. I’ve never answered a booty call before. There’s something inherently sexy about just the thought of it: it's purely about unbridled lust. I met this guy a few months ago at a bar. We’ve never had a conversation. All I know is that he is much younger than I am and from Spain. I now know he has a cousin. And, judging from his book collection, he plays guitar, though I've never glimpsed the guitar. I have nothing to say for myself, except that I can’t promise I won’t do it again. Oh I suck at this no sex thing!

A couple years ago I had a lapse in judgment (I recognize the pattern). When I was out and about in my neighborhood, I frequently encountered a man who painted apartments in my building and other buildings nearby. We always exchanged pleasantries. I ran into him just before I moved out of the neighborhood and he invited me to dinner. I accepted, thinking there wasn’t a chance he would interpret it as anything romantic because he is easily 15 years my senior and he has a wife and kids in another country. He doesn’t know English very well so I thought it would be a good chance for me to practice my Spanish and he could practice his English if he wished. Long story short, he wouldn’t stop calling me after that. I had to lie and tell him I had a jealous boyfriend to get him to stop calling. Fast forward two years: he called me the other day! I don’t typically answer the phone when I don’t recognize the number but I was expecting a service call so answered this time. I was shocked when he identified himself. Two years! He wanted to see me again and asked if I still had the jealous boyfriend. Um, yes. And he’s switched careers to body builidng.

My good friend’s husband is now giving me the cold shoulder. This is a positive development. Maybe he’ll finally leave me alone.

1 comment:

Brett said...

Great post, you must write so more.