Got some reader feedback about formatting. I am the most rudimentary user of WordPress, and I don’t know how to create a table of contents, or even change the way that posts are presented to you (someday….*sigh*). So, just note that the order in which you see posts are in REVERSE chronological order. If you want to read from the start (as the author intended – hint, hint…), then you’ll need to start from the bottom.
The original intention for this whole project was a series of short, hopefully helpful stories and anecdotes about our journey into non-monogamy and polyamory. I had tried this in a couple of different iterations in the past, but in truth, I never really was able to find the inspiration or motivation to keep it consistent, despite having lots to say and many (good and not-so-good) experiences to draw from.I’m sure that the internet its riddled with properties like my previous attempts – blogs with scant, infrequent, disjointed posts coming to no conclusion at all, and long forgotten.
Finally, around the end of 2017, my wife and I had gotten to a point where we were in a good space.We had a successful quad relationship (coming up on four five years of blissful togetherness) and I had reached a point where I just felt like I had a story I had to share. Even though the relationships we had required effort to care and feed for them, it was just getting to a point where things were really great and I felt a great urgency to let the world know that the life we were living was possible for anyone who was willing to put in the work.
In the past, I had cobbled together a few old stories and posts (that never got posted).I revisited them, fleshed them out with a timeline, and sprinkled in some lessons learned though our journey.Over a few weeks during the 2017 holiday season, I had managed to crank out nearly 46,000 words.
But what to do with it?
To be honest, I’m a bit lazy.The idea of going through the hassle of actually publishing a book isn’t that attractive to me.I’m not trying to retire on this effort, so I found I really wasn’t interested in taking the time or the capital to make a run at publishing.That said, I do think that there is value in what I’m sharing. I thought about having it ghostwritten, but I had already written it so that seemed stupid, and a waste of time and money. In reading others’ material on similar topics, and polling a very small group of friends also in the space, it’s been suggested that I publish the work as a blog, releasing a chapter or a section at a time, to a curious public.
Since it’s already written I guess that takes away one excuse.All I have to do is cut and paste, right?
So, what follows on this page is an account of how my wife and I stumbled into swinging, grew our relationship in ethical non-monogamy, and finally landed in a polyamorous quad relationship the continues to this day.You’ll get a first hand account of where we succeeded, where we fucked everything up, and how we managed to fix those fuck-ups without leaving too many bodies in the wake.
Something also to note – most, if not all of the polyamorous press I see out there is largely curated by women. For those who have indulged on that content, you might find this blog a little different.Unless otherwise posted, the material here is created by the Male Half of a Heterosexual Married Couple.An effort has been made to ensure that it’s not simply a collection of bawdy stories.Men have feelings too, and at times we are not afraid to share.Most of the bawdiness has been trimmed anyway, because that’s not nearly as important as how we actually got to this place to begin with.
And of course, it should be noted that names have been changed to protect the identity of those involved.We’re a proud group, but we don’t know that we’re QUITE ready to have y’all over for thanksgiving dinner to meet mom and dad…yet.
‘What are your plans for the night?’, I asked with a smile.
She smiled back, and discreetly pointed at the man standing behind the bar, and her mouth seemed to form the words ‘with him.’
Ahhh… I nodded.A couple of minutes later, the bartender stepped away.She handed me a business card. ‘Here is my sister’s number – next time she is in your town, you should say hi.’
Of course, this made no sense, but it was moderately clever cover. I signed the bill for dinner and tore off a corner of the receipt.I scribbled my number on it. ‘Yes, when she gets in, I’d love to meet her and say hello.’
And with that I left.
About an hour earlier, I wandered into the bar at the DuPont Circle steakhouse.I wanted a good meal to cap off a long, fun few days.It started with a trip to Washington, DC with Cecelia. Our kids were at overnight camp for the week, and this is what we chose for our annual getaway trip to enjoy life as adults.We took in a lot of the sights, museums, a really great dinner in Georgetown with some bar hopping – everything that we wanted to experience for a time away from home and the rigors of parenthood.Cecelia left on Thursday, to head home and spend a long weekend with Harrison.She doesn’t get a lot of time at home alone and wanted a couple of days to herself and her guy.She told me to take an extra day after my meetings and enjoy myself.
[Side note: If you’re following along and wondering what happened to Angela, that’s story unto itself.When I saw her that May for my meetings in DC, she had started to develop a back problem.It started with some pain, numbness and a limp, and it got worse and worse. What started as a bad disc in her back had turned into something that literally kept her off of her feet.Angela ended up going into an operating room that August, and after an unsuccessful surgery, as of this writing more than four years later is still learning to walk again. She and I are still good friends, talking often, and I’ve also made a couple of side trips to her since then to visit as she continues to rehab. It’s been a real gift to follow along her journey to being able to move on her own once again.She has always maintained a very positive attitude, which I find awe-inspiring.]
So, back to DC…
Into the bar I wandered on this August Friday night. There she was.Tall, redhead.Dressed very professionally. Great smile, fabulous legs and engaged in a flirty conversation with the bartender.He was easily three inches shorter than she was and spoke with a thick accent – maybe Russian or Eastern European. It was just she and I at the bar, and I left a comfortable distance – two, maybe three stools between us as I sat for dinner.He was generous with his complementary pours of Col Solare for my barmate.I of course, had to pay full price.
I ordered a meal, and began some light conversation with her. Her name was Brittany. I told her I was from the Northwest, and she mentioned that she traveled to my city often to see her sister who was fighting stage IV skin cancer, and was undergoing regular treatments at a hospital there. Brittany was fit, talking about how she just ran her first 5K and cracked a 7:00 pace.My eyes didn’t deceive me. This girl was an athlete. She talked about being on the cusp of 40, and was planning a big hike in Yosemite for her birthday. I talked about my own hiking and mountain climbing experiences. We seemed to have a lot in common, and the conversation and time passed quickly.She was an attorney, working for a non profit in town. She seemed to have her act together, and looks to boot – a great smile, huge dark green eyes, and an engaging demeanor.
As the conversation wore on, she turned in her stool to look at me.Her body language showed interest, but I was still trying to figure out the dynamic with the bartender, who didn’t seem to want to let her and I have any uninterrupted conversation for more than a few minutes. I probably should have recognized this, but I just wasn’t interested in paying attention to the signs.
I had an early flight the next morning to head back home, and I was truly attracted to this woman. My next trip would be in January – it seemed so long and I wanted to see where this could go. So, that’s when I asked her if she would like to go out, and received my polite refusal.
Not one to get in the way, I took my leave of the place. The next morning, I shot her a text to the cell number on her business card, which ended up being invalid. Oh well.
The flight back to home was uneventful, but as I landed, my phone buzzed with an incoming text.
‘Hey – It’s Brittany. I felt like an asshole talking to you at the bar when I was supposed to be seeing the bartender, so I’m sorry.Next time you’re in town, look me up. It was nice meeting you.’
January was far away, but I eagerly filed that note for the future.
I picked up Cecelia and the kids from the airport.I was still reeling from the excitement of the week, and when I finally got everyone home and settled and into bed, Cecelia and I got a chance to debrief.
And here was another set of poor behaviors on my part. I was so excited to share with her how I as able to experience the week, to pull off a tantalizing, exciting, sexy time with all of my lovers. And I had completely disregarded all that she had to go through to make it happen. This was another important lesson to learn.It’s fine to share your successes and happiness, but first,and OhMyGodMostImportantly, ACKNOWLEDGE and THANK those who allow you to explore, and experience that happiness. My primary partner was the one who got to fly cross country with two toddlers, which is enough of a challenge. No matter how brilliant, or smart, or organized or charming I was, it meant absolutely nothing unless my wife was able to provide it. My failure to recognize her first was another big lesson in this whole journey.Be appreciative of those who allow it happen, and bring your happiness back to them in a way that supports, nurtures and supports them.
I was early, accounting for traffic. It was hot, and I had just gone for a quick run before heading up to work off some energy. Beads of sweat still coated my forehead, so I wandered the outdoor mall slowly, trying to relax and let the fresh air cool me down. Maybe not the A game that I like to bring, but I wasn’t going to be late. I walked into the restaurant and went to the hostess stand. I told them I was meeting someone, ‘And I think that’s her’, pointing to the tall blonde ahead of me. I followed her into the bar, where she was being escorted to a waiting man at a bar table toward the back. I watched the scene unfold, and I could see the look of surprise and even disappointment on both of their faces.
Being curious to watch the situation develop, but also wanting to ward off any further awkward moments I tapped her gently on the shoulder. She turned, and smiled at the sight of me, and opened her arms to a warm embrace. She wore a classy green patterned dress, adorned with stones and trimmings that gave her a very elegant look. A quick joke exchanged about the misunderstanding, and we made our way to the front, and then to a table on the patio.
Joelle was 50, and reached out to me online. Her brief message to me complimented me on my profile photo, taken on a beach in Cancun with me in a pretty good headstand. Her screen name and profile revealed a yoga enthusiast with a love for live music. She spent time working with autistic children and had even taught in Nigeria. Spiritual and energetic she was. Long divorced, she didn’t date at all until her last child was out of the home. Now, entering her sixth decade, she was getting back into her groove and making up for quite a bit of lost time.
I had been specific in my reply to her about my situation, and she showed interest, and even curiosity. The dinner conversation was pretty benign, but showed flashes of a very sexually vibrant woman. She talked about moving furniture and getting her arms bruised, and feeling a bit self conscious in her yoga class. ‘No, these aren’t bruises from anyone’s hand…unfortunately…’, I heard her say. ‘A well placed bite on me will absolutely push me over the edge!’, she offered later on in the conversation. I did my absolute best to hide my surprise and excitement. I no doubt failed.
We talked about her career switch. It turns out that she just started as the house director for one of the sororities on the local university campus. She was overseeing a multi-million dollar remodel and preparing for the arrival of 86 women in just a few weeks. I immediately got flashbacks of my own college days….making out in the foyers and living rooms of the houses of the girls I used to date. Joelle was enthusiastic at the opportunity, and I could see the energy with which she must put forth into everything.
I broke the ice further by introducing her to my situation. I explained my own marriage. Happy, but open, in recognizing that my wife and I acknowledge that our needs are not met completely by one person. She mentioned reading ‘The Ethical Slut’ last summer and having a personally revolutionary response. She mentioned a local Friend With Benefits, and swing parties that the two of them attend on a regular basis. ‘I was wondering when you were going to bring all of that up’, She said.
Joelle continued. ‘I haven’t given a blowjob in 20 years. My ex didn’t like them. I had to read a book and figure out what to do all over again when I started dating.’ Once the conversation started toward relationships, and our own adventures, her green eyes started to light up with brightness, and her voice became more excited. The pace in her speech sped up like a stone rolling downhill.
We split the bill and continued talking. I get self conscious when hanging out at a restaurant well after the meal ends and I was getting antsy, but I had a couple of hours before I needed to head to the airport and retrieve my wife and kids, and end this most fabulous week.
‘Well, I don’t want to take up your entire evening’, I said. ‘I know you must be busy.’
‘Do you have to go? What time are you picking up your family?’
‘I’ve got a couple of hours yet.’
‘Do you want to come back to my place?’
Apparently, I paused too long in my internal deliberation. I was tired. I needed to be at my best when picking up the family. I liked this woman, but the connection wasn’t as strong as I prefer. But she was really pretty. And it had been a LONG time since I’ve seen the inside of a sorority house.
‘I mean…you don’t have to…I just thought it would be nice.’
‘Yes. Yes. I would like to see your home. Thank you.’ I spoke with all the sincerity I could muster, for fear that the awkward pause was just too long to recover from.
We walked to the garage, and to her car. ‘There I am. Silver Honda.’
‘Ok. I’m on level C. Blue Audi.’
I got to my car, and followed her through the residential areas of the university. We passed a house full of frat boys having a pool party. Hip hop music blared through a DJ setup. She parked in her spot and directed me to park on the sidewalk. ‘You’ll be fine here for a while’. I followed user up the steps. The frat boys across the street taking a keen glance at us.
We walked in, and I excused myself to the restroom. I stepped out and walked into her apartment and waited. A minute later she stepped out, and assumed the role of a tour guide. She showed me every square foot of the place. The rooms, the big dining room the kitchen. Each area gave me more flashbacks of my college days. My mind wandered…empty house. Intriguing locations. Our tour went to an upper floor. She showed me the inside of an actual sorority house bathroom. Twenty five years ago, this was a dream come true. Now, the allure wasn’t as strong, until she spoke. ‘I need to clean these racks. I think I’m just going to get naked and drag them into the shower and wash them off’
‘Call me if you need help.’, I replied. I thought I heard a slight giggle. But I may have been mistaken.
The tour ended and we ended up back to her apartment on the first floor. She showed me around. It was small. I resisted the urge to look into her bedroom. The conversation moved well by now…she swayed as she spoke, the dress flowing behind her. We started to instinctively circle each other in a cordial, yet impassioned dance. She walked into the kitchenette, and turned to face me. Her back to the countertop and hands on top of it, as if preparing to lift herself up if the situation demanded it.
I stood in front of her, suddenly very excited at the environment. I put my hands on top of hers and our lips locked in a gentle, yet firm kiss. Instantly, I could feel her melt. Her hands rose to the back of my neck. Our lips and tongues danced, repeating our living room samba, except now much closer and more intense. I continued. I started to fight the urge to set her up on the countertop, which would have allowed me access to what was underneath that dress. She was pretty, and I was getting a strong vibe from her. But I didn’t want to push it. I gently pressed my semi-erectness into her hips. She deserved to know how much she was turning me on.
Our lips parted. She looked at me. ‘Wow. You make me nervous….’
‘Yeah. A really good nervous. Excited. I’m all twitterpated.’ This make me laugh inside, because that is a phrase that Sonya often used to describe her feelings for me.
‘Ahh. That’s good. I was worried that I was making you nervous, like an I-just-let-an-axe-murderer-into-my-house nervous.’
‘Nope. Just excited. I could just get lost in those brown eyes of yours.’
Mental note: more evidence that my brown eyes are really an asset.
The makeout session continued for some time, and dwindled. The hour kept us from going any further, and I wasn’t making an assumption that anything more was even on the table. Joelle looked at me and said, ‘There. Now I’ve got you warmed up for your wife.’
We stood, then sat on her couch for a while and chatted more. She looked at me and asked, ‘Well, how does this work with you?’ I explained that I had a couple of close relationships with other women and that my time was a bit hectic. But, we made plans to meet at a music festival later in the month. I was looking for a date, and she would be delightful company.
As I drove home, I watched two young, moderately drunk, lei-wearing coeds wander across the street to the next party. I reminisced about my own college days once again. In embarking on this week that was, I found myself making up for my own lost time. In college, I was the overweight one, lacking confidence, yet pining for a relationship where I would be cared for and adored. With Joelle, I was taken back to those days, but engulfed in a new appreciation for who I am today and feeling so fortunate at the life that has been created.
The text arrived mid day. ‘So, did you have sex with the nurse last night?’
‘Nope. Just dinner and drinks.’
‘Ok. More light interrogation tonight. No water boarding though.’
I drove up to Sonya’s apartment. She was already waiting, dressed in a cute, yet modest black dress and a white sweater. A small overnight bag and her laptop case were slung over her shoulder. I left the top up for her. The weather was not going to be perfect, and her fair skin didn’t react well to the exposed sunshine anyway. Plus, I knew we’d be having a deeper conversation on the drive, and wind noise at highway speed wouldn’t help with my focus. We packed her things, got in, and headed out.
After some small talk, she started. ’What I really want to know, is, what about this whole week feeds you? Is it the sex? Is it the companionship? What is it?’
Sonya is one of the most skilled people I know when it comes to relationships, communication and how to negotiate the landmines inherent to the connections we choose to build. A week previously, at a concert we attended together, we had a pretty serious discussion about our roles in each others’ lives, especially about my dating other people. She accepted it, but only asked that she understand my schedule, for fear that she would be interrupting some moment with a text at an inopportune time. She isn’t the jealous type at all, and admitted that she probably doesn’t have as much time to share with me as well as her primary partner, Harrison. But now, she wanted a debrief.
I explained to her about the fact that I was coming into my own, as a confident man, just realizing that I’m a desirable guy for women to be with. I really enjoy being a romantic, showing a woman a good time and enjoying their company. It’s not necessarily the sex, it’s more about me providing an environment for women to be comfortable sharing, talking or expressing themselves in whatever way makes them feel good. To bolster my position, I told her about my date with Rielle the night before, which was fun and fulfilling to me, but platonic.
Satisfied with my explanation, we were able to get the weekend started off right. We got to the lodge and checked in. We settled into our nice view room, and unpacked. Due to work and other obligations, Sonya had been particularly busy, and was even scheduled to lead a conference call the next morning at 8:30. Despite her busy day, I was getting texts throughout most of the morning about how a good fuck would set her well for our short overnight. Always the helpful one, I scheduled myself a massage during her call, wanting to give her space to focus on her tasks. Of course, I am always happy to do my part to ensure that the stress of the work week was appropriately washed away, and it wasn’t long after check in that we had started in, feasting on each other like lusty teenagers.
We came up for air, and food. Sonya is always a little bit paranoid about running into people the two of us may know, so we kept a low profile, opting to sit at the end of the bar in the casual restaurant at the lodge. Figuring that most of the people there would be tourists and out-of-towners, we thought that would be a safe place to hang out. We enjoyed cocktails and apps, but it wasn’t long before we retired to the room again. Despite seeing each other a few times over the last month, It had been a few weeks since we had had sex (well, except for the phone sex we had a couple of weeks before), and the last time was a rushed afternoon session that we made time for between calls and meetings. Being together for 20 straight hours with access to a comfortable king bed and complete privacy was too much for us to resist.
By now we were hungry for real food, and we returned to the restaurant. Conversation continued, alcohol flowed, and we finally called it quits as they closed the kitchen. We retired to the room again, drew a hot bath in the jetted tub and lay next to each other in it, naked and relaxed.
Finally, the hour arrived for her to get ready for her call, and for me to retire to the spa. I opted for a deep tissue massage, and as I lay on the table, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of absolute joy. I was concluding an amazing week, and some pangs of guilt even started to creep through. It almost started to feel unfair that I could be surrounded by so much love and joy. Sonya often reminds me that anyone can live this life, but it’s like anything else. It requires work and a willingness to create what you want. Once you’re willing to do that, it can come to you in anyway you want it to.
We arrived at the restaurant almost simultaneously. She was wearing her signature long flowing skirt and dress shirt over a white tank top, accented with long necklaces, a dozen bracelets and her 3″ hoop earrings. She was almost always late, but it was never her fault. Today’s delay was a patient at the plastic surgery clinic where she worked. The patient was having a hard time with recovery and Rielle needed to stay late. Leaving her alone with the Doctor to let him tend to the recovery was unlikely to end well. Her sweet charm, and bedside manner, delivered with the impact of a velvet hammer was what the patient really needed.
We settled to two barstools at the window. The conversation always flowed easily with her. I get a good dose of surgery stories, updates on her family, and the latest happenings of her overly promiscuous friend Courtney. Wildly entertaining. I got in some updates on Cecelia as well. I told her how she was away for the week with the kids, but her own relationship with her boyfriend was flourishing and that it was continuing to enhance our marriage In a rewarding and meaningful way.
But this time, there was a new element. She had a new love interest. I always found Rielle to be gorgeous and smart and I think deep down, I always really wanted her to find happiness with someone. She had had a couple of long term relationships, but hadn’t seen anyone seriously for a while. She had many men in her life, and could easily choose one of them as a longer term partner. She said that she always enjoyed what we had. I was fun, lent a kind ear to her crazy stories, was always a gentleman and treated her like a princess. And my own arrangement was fine so long as everyone was open and honest about it.
But the tough thing about her was that she had built a solid wall around her heart. She struggled with self confidence (which I found maddening, especially when it came to sex) and every time we saw each other, it was like there was still so much underlying difficulty with her emotions, and I constantly questioned why the hell I was even bothering with it. Jeff, the new potential object of her affection, (whose texts during dinner were infrequent enough to not be too annoying) was a schoolteacher with three kids but was in the middle of an ugly divorce. That was probably enough reason for Rielle to build her wall higher. Which was too bad. She spoke of him fondly, and her eyes made that soft stare into space at the discussion of how they met, and their recent encounters. I could tell she was hooked, and struggling with it.
Dinner and drinks concluded. Any happy hour or get together with Rielle is usually a three plus hour affair, and this was no exception. But it was getting late, and I was still reeling from the lack of sleep from the previous two nights anyway. I walked her to her car, and exchanged a brief but sweet kiss. She tried to make some sort of excuse about how she was in a weird space right now, and had some things to sort out, and then she would be back to her old fun self. I dismissed her apology. I did appreciate her, and did enjoy seeing her. But watching an obvious struggle with her own emotions and wants just made me appreciate the easy connection and fun that I had with others so much more.
I sat at the hotel room desk, checking email, and sipping on a glass of red that I had bought. She was running late, but I had set up our dinner reservation so that there would be plenty of time. My thoughts swirled. Helene was pretty, a bit shy but seemingly voracious in her appetite for sex, which I was of course curious to experience for myself. She had asked her husband for an open marriage about eight months before, and she was definitely in a mode where she was searching. Searching for what, I don’t think even she knew.
She was the first person I met when I started my online dating profile. We had two lunch dates previous to our evening encounter. Given schedules, it was taking a while to get together. I had to cancel a happy hour with her the week before. I felt bad about it, but a work meeting got in the way, and that needed to take priority. She had already commented over text about my relative lack of availability and on our first date she suggested that ‘You can’t just flirt forever.’ To be truthful, there was a good connection but totally casual sex isn’t as much my style. But, she was pretty, fun, and casual seemed to be something she was more than comfortable with.
She arrived. She was a little flustered. Helene arranged to spend the night with me, so I set an appointment to take my car in for scheduled maintenance the next day so we’d have a little morning time, and I would have a solid excuse to go into the office late (a text the week before suggesting early AM sex set the table for some logistical planning). Of course, things happen, and she left her overnight bag on the table at her home. She took it in stride, and arranged to meet her husband downtown before work the next day to get her stuff. She could shower at the hotel, and makeup and a clean change of clothes would be dealt with at her office. It’s funny – trying to set up the plans of the week, and other dates I have can be a real challenge. And we’re not trying to even deceive anyone. When arranging a big date or overnight with a partner, I’m awed by how difficult it is. You have to plan for place, schedules, transportation, child care and countless other details. I could not imagine the challenges in having to arrange for honest-to-goodness affairs, and successfully hide them from a spouse that wasn’t in the know.
After we shared a glass of wine to shake off the Wednesday work day, we walked to dinner. The restaurant was mostly empty, and they sat us at a table for two, front and center of course. And that would bring me to the next complication of this lifestyle. Even though we weren’t cheating on our spouses, there is always the risk that we run into someone we know who isn’t privy to our activities. It’s happened to me a couple of times before, and it can be made to look innocent enough, but you can’t control someone else’s thoughts on the matter. As is my habit, I scanned the sparse space for familiar faces. Seeing none (not that I had a solid plan about what to do if I DID see someone), we sat and began to dine.
Dinner was delicious. Helene’s shyness started to melt away. We hadn’t seen each other in a month, but the conversation continued to flow. We shared our dating stories. She was pretty forward in her texts and discussions with me about other guys she sees, so I felt secure in being open with her. Dinner wore on, and the tension started to build. I excused myself to the bathroom, popping a Viagra on the way. In previous interactions, she portrayed herself as a woman with a voracious appetite, and I wasn’t going to be one to disappoint. I’ve been known to get nervous when being with someone for the first time, and I see no shame in living better through chemistry to make sure everyone has a good time. I came back to the table. We spent a couple more minutes talking and recalling good stories of our explorations in non-monogamy.
‘Wanna get out of here and make some more memories?’ I asked. In retrospect, I don’t think I could have said anything cheesier.
She smiled and a we rose together, walking slowly but with purpose back to the hotel, just a couple blocks away (again, always thinking of logistics!). We retired to the room, poured ourselves another glass of wine, and began the ritual of kissing, and exploring each other’s bodies for the first time. She was passionate, a bit submissive (but not overly so) and lovely. I was still tired from the night before, both physically and emotionally, but we enjoyed each other throughout the evening. First times with a new woman can be exciting, or awkward, or a bizarre combination of both. I’ve heard it said that ’Sex is like pancakes. You have to throw the first one away.’ The excitement of being with someone new usually brings a fun and enthusiastic energy to the scene, and this was no exception. Nothing overly weird – if it’s my first time with a someone, I’m not usually interested in getting too kinky or exploring oddities (unless it’s specifically requested), but we continued our exploration with vigor, until exhaustion got the better of us.
We had discussed a wake up time for the next morning, and thought that if we were up by 7:30 that would be adequate to get our morning going. As if reading each other’s minds, both of our iPhone alarms went off exactly at 7, revealing the truth about how we wanted to really spend our morning. The extra half hour was put to wonderfully good use.
After getting ready for our day, we took the elevator down. I offered to take her to coffee. ‘The meter starts up at 8, I should get to my car.’ We kissed, and she left, without so much as a parting glance.
I’m not quite sure what happened. Perhaps she knew my schedule would continue to be impossible for me to manage. Maybe I had overestimated my ability to please her in that way. With both dates previously, she had always asked if she could see me again. This time, she left me with nothing but a kiss, a wave, and the sight of the back of her head moving toward another typical Thursday morning.
I stood in the kitchen, cutting vegetables and trying to follow the recipe in front of me. It had been a long time since I prepped a full dinner, let alone for a date. I’m pretty good with breakfasts. I can make a great omelette, or pancakes from scratch for the kids on weekends. But putting together a three course dinner that required timing was proving to be a skill that I had long lost. However, I had a nice bottle of Chardonnay to keep me company and some music going, which helped. And even though my guest for the evening was a stay at home mom and a bit of a domestic goddess in her own right, I don’t think she was the type to judge my cooking skills.
Laura arrived. I invited her in, and she sat comfortably at the bar in our kitchen. I offered her wine, which she accepted. We chatted and I continued my meal preparation, already making excuses for the meal and offering to take her out if it turned into a disaster. I was also a mess. I had taken a flow yoga class, then taught a session immediately afterward. So I was sweaty, salty and likely stunk. She got comfortable, and I asked if I could excuse myself for a quick shower. I could smell myself and I was getting self conscious. For a moment, it felt like that scene in the movie Top Gun where Tom Cruise excuses himself to Kelly McGillis’ shower before a dinner date. But I felt at ease with her enough to leave her in my kitchen for a few minutes unattended, and I liked her enough that I didn’t want to give her a reason to not get close.
I showered quickly, then returned to my kitchen duties. Everything went off without a hitch, except for our new little kitten who was loudly insisting on eating at the same time we were. Again, I excused myself to take care of her and returned. Dinner was good, but the company was divine. I couldn’t remember the last time I entertained a woman in my own home. I think it has been years. All of my recent dates have been out of the house, preferring instead a night on the town at a fancy restaurant or hotel. Cecelia and I had since relaxed the rules about having lovers over to our home, but this is the first time I took advantage of it. And it felt so right. Comfortable, in my dining area, just wearing shorts and a t shirt, and she in another simple dress that I’ve become accustomed to seeing her wear. More conversation. She walked over to her purse and grabbed desert – I had requested she bring a little bit of chocolate to enjoy after the meal. The dark chocolate was symbolic of the simple and concentrated pleasure I got from entertaining this woman.
She helped with the dishes, and I took her on a quick house tour. It felt a bit juvenile, like back in my college days, but I knew I didn’t have to have a ploy for her. We went up to the roof deck, and quickly took in the view of the city in the rain. Making out in the rain can be pretty sexy, and neither of us could resist the temptation to do so. We kissed fully and deeply, taking in yet more of the simple pleasures we always seem to experience with each other. The rain and our urge for more hastened our retreat to the conclusion of the house tour which ended right at my bedroom.
I was crazy with excitement to be with her again. At the hotel, the one wrinkle in our encounter was that she was in the middle of her cycle (she later referred to it as shark week, which was hilariously accurate). I’m fine with sex during a woman’s period, but I avoid a lot of other things, which I truly enjoy doing. Now that she was finished, I couldn’t wait to explore more of her.
And explore we did. We picked up right where we left off, enjoying each other’s bodies with a comfort and enjoyment that felt so natural. She rode me gently, her eyes rolling back into her head. The intense look that she gets when she stares into my eyes was etched into my memory. She had told me once that a lover got freaked out and her intensity intimidated him. It was powerful, but it all felt so natural with her.
When a woman is a good communicator in bed, it’s doubly thrilling for me. We continued our cycle of lovemaking, and touching and talking. At one point, I could see her eyes well up with tears. A year ago, this would have freaked me out. Today, with her, it felt incredible. And I was realizing how rewarding it was to just feel love, and to not let the head get too much in the way of what the heart was experiencing. And I was doing my best to let it go, and to enjoy every moment of this evening.
All magical evenings do eventually end, and it was time for Cinderella to hop into her carriage (the oh-so-socially-conscious Nissan Leaf) and head back to her home. She left the chocolate bar as a memento, which I savored over the rest of the week.