Sex. What better topic for a bunch of single people shaking off the Monday together at midnight on the neighborhood pub patio? We're all trying to figure out what it takes the find someone you have really mind blowing sex with that's also a good partner. Someone good for you in all ways.
We talked about what makes sex so mind blowing. One good friend told us about how he has great sex with his ex. It's so good because they both love it. He enjoys pleasing her and she's into being pleased. But she's his ex. Another dear friend is struggling to figure out why she and her boyfriend haven't had any the last couple of times he's been in town. That makes it tough for a girl who loves sex and remembers the amazing times with her ex. Time to talk.
And my ex was a bad lover and partner. At least he's my ex. The best sex I've ever had is with my occasional lover. When we're together, we connect physically and emotionally. He's a delicious lover and brings out the best in me, but I'll never know if he's a good partner. Can I have both with others? I don't know but would love to learn.
Oh, I forgot to mention, the last man I had sex with was sitting across the table listening to most of the conversation. He smiled and looked over at me more than once. Read
Laugh, live, love and labels to hear about that weekend secret. And I didn't even feel awkward like I probably should have.
Then screech! Crash! No. One of our exes didn't show up. A speeding truck ran head-on into the concrete wall surrounding the roundabout in front of the pub. It ended the conversation and sobered us up. Fast.
While we watched the police, EMTs and firemen work their magic, people's reacations fascinated me. Some ran down to help as soon as it happened. Some screamed. Some of us stayed on the patio with big eyes until our hearts stopped pounding and hands were steady again. And the weekend secret guy shook his head and said everyone was overreacting.
"It's just a car accident," he said.
What? How can you judge? We just witnessed a near fatal car crash. What if one of us had been crossing the street? What about those who had experienced bad wrecks themselves or lost a loved one?
Once the mess was down to skid marks, bits of landscaping and random small car parts in the road, it was after two and the bar closed, but we weren't ready to sleep.
"Let's go to my house!" I said. So we did.
The secret weekend guy saw the bag of birdseed inside my front door and asked what it was for.
"To feed the birds, and keep Lucy entertained."
"That's unethical," he said. "So your cat kills the birds while they eat?"
What? "Lucy doesn't go outside."
"You still shouldn't feed the birds because if you stop, they won't know how to find food," he said. "I'm not judging you."
Are you fucking kidding me? So I poured wine and moved on.
We were tired but not. Conversation stayed light and we learned more about each other. Secret weekend guy was quiet.
Until he laughed, leaned over and mumbled to me, "This is getting boring."
"They're talking about their careers and how they got where they are."
"Oh. It's just not what I'm used to," he responded.
"So contribute. What would you like to talk about?"
"I just want to be quiet," he said.
I was tempted to answer back how he was welcomed to be quiet at his own house. But I didn't want to judge.
It got deep under my skin because the scenario reminded me so much of my ex. How he would leave skid marks across me with his digs about how small town and repressed I was in bed and tire tracks across my friends and me with his criticisms and arrogant judgment.
The birds are still eating, and Lucy's still entertained. And no more skid marks. Ever.
Love to the single girls,
Addison
Okay, I was practicing using my inner bitch. My goal was to not post anything new until someone leaves at least one comment. But I can't. My inner bitch failed. So, I will write this morning.
