"How's that supposed to work?!," Kentucky complains. He quickly shelves it after I shot him a warning look and as instructed, tries for a kiss but nervously over-reaches by grabbing me. I slap his hand away again, and after enduring a few minutes of his attention, derisively observe, "You do realize I'm the one kissing you, you're not kissing me." He looks up, "There's a difference?" I rolled my eyes at him, "Yesssss. Pay attention."
A small battle of wills ensues in the next 50 odd minutes. Frustrated, he begs to prove that indeed he too, could be a very generous lover. "And how," I asked while still swatting his hand away from creeping up my thigh, "are you planning to demonstrate that?"
I give him a friendly yet sharp little slap on his cheek for this, "Blame is NOT attractive, Kentucky. Grabbing is NOT seductive and next time, don't suggest, JUST WORK UP TO IT. If you took the time, you wouldn't have to ask, now would you?" He groans loudly, "You're killing me! Like seriously, feel my chest, I could have a heart attack right now."
"Then stop eating butter." I quip proceeding to ignore him. By the time I was done, I was relatively undisturbed and only had to smooth out a few wrinkles off my skirt while Kentucky stared at me from the couch half-dressed and looking pleasurably devastated. His eyes glittered against his flushed cheeks, "That was..that was..like A-Mazing!" I say nothing but sit next to him rearranging his curls into a more sensible fashion. Normally skittish to leave, he sits still through it, "See," I say, "all good things come to those who wait. Or are learning to wait."
"But you wouldn't let me really touch you, I mean how do you do that?," he asks, stunned at the aftermath. "Hmm, I AM awesome," I say tartly. "This isn't really about me, you know." He ponders this but after a few moments realizes his disarray while I lay there fully clothed, comfortably saying nothing much and humming at the ceiling. He goes off to the bathroom and returns looking a bit more pulled together.
"Like what? You have another stalker coming over?" he bit out rather accusingly. I raise my eyebrows at this, "Well," I drawl, "let me just check my Stalker Schedule, nope, no, you're the only stalker I have on for tonight. Lucky you." He groans again. "Come on, I know you're up to something, just..just..," he paused losing his nerve, "well, I think if I go now I can get my hair trimmed.."
Kentucky seemed to be teetering on the edge of something. I flashed him an impish grin, "Then GO..by all means, Leave. Be off with ye. I wasn't telling you to but since your hair is so very obviously in need of attention, I wouldn't dare hold you back from the scissors." He winces but it was too late to go back now. That saying, Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady - so true.
He starts making derogatory comments about his hair while I shushed him and pushed him out the door, I could still catch the tail end of something he was saying to me as he disappeared down the driveway. He had once confessed to me how unhappy he was when a past relationship of his had suddenly changed over some unintentional compliment he'd paid the woman, "it's like all I said was I love spending time with you and the next time I saw her, I could TELL it was all different, and it was all goobly. Like it's suddenly this major relationship when I thought everything was just fine." And yet, not even a few hours before, he'd suggested marriage?
He'd asked me about the blog again, and swore he would find a way to read it, "are you using real names?" I gave him a wilting look, "Yes, I'm that stupid. Trust me, you DON'T want to read the blog. Wouldn't that just interrupt your baseball schedule? Really, Kentucky, it'd be a waste of your time." I was being flippant but he'd looked at me suspiciously, "I bet if I read that blog I'd know all sorts of things about you."
"Oh, well. Too bad you won't then." I'd happily dismissed it. But I was always serious about never letting him or any of my lovers read it.
The blog is in many ways, the bridge to cross into my soul. Here in the detritus and diversions of my encounters, are unvarnished pieces of who I am. Pieces easy to understand for most women who read this - for I am they and they are me, but which can only too easily make most men's head explode. It would destroy the mythology of the "I" they thought they understood, an event not dissimilar to discovering a woman can be both Eve and Lilith, June Cleaver & Cat Woman, baking a cake one moment, whipping you senseless the next.
Even while the encounter itself is never meant to grow into a full blown relationship, or it starts showing signs that it may, regardless of its demise or its promise, every moment of it holds a new perspective for us. A chance to experience ourselves with another and through another. If we're present enough.
It makes me think of how excited I was when as a child I'd once got to visit a 14th century old tower, while we all oohed and aahed at the gravity of its history, I was thrilled by its windows. I ran from one to the next, noticing how the view from each shifted, however slightly - each held something different. I'd imagined then that this was why they'd posted a sentry to cover each section, because one couldn't possibly see everything.
In achieving physical closeness with me yet not having come anywhere near my inner life, Kentucky seems to have come face to face with his own questions about intimacy, his own desires for commitment and yes, much to his dismay, how all that ties in with his sexuality.
He'd felt courageous enough to declare his thoughts on marriage, how he'd wanted it and how complicated he felt relationships were because he took me for someone who wouldn't want it. Or at least, one who was in no mad rush to get it. If he'd really wanted to improve his physical performance, he'd be beefing up the endurance program with me but the truth is, each encounter we had presented him with the bigger challenge of finally being able to explore all those questions.
I don't claim to have the answers. Nor can I take credit for having masterminded the design of all of this. I'd met Kentucky that day for the sole reason of how being with him would help me avoid the temptation of sliding into sadness over B. The recipe of my own hidden vulnerability, meeting his obvious one is all too human. Still, I know only too well that sometimes having the right mirror or the right window at the most opportune time, is all we need to leap from being one thing, into being another. Hopefully, always to being ourselves better.