What does a woman do when a man who is one and a half times her weight tells her that he, for the sake of simplicity, wrestles competitively? Well, a sane woman would probably not challenge him to a duel—even jokingly. Unless, she is a former jock who grew up with two older brothers.
And unless, of course, this particular man has piercing blue eyes and that woman has seen photographic evidence of said man’s fitness and wants to experience it for herself.
That’s how I found myself with my back on the floor of the music room pinned between his legs. It was a little hard to concentrate as he told me each sequence of positions for a particular move, particularly when his leg moved between my legs and his arm grazed my chest. Forget the fact that he was focusing on how to flip me over to a position that could easily break my leg with the intent and more force.
I was too distracted by how good it felt to have our bodies, albeit clothed bodies, so close after being politely at a distance over the course of two dates. Ever the gentleman, he had given me simply a hug and flirtatious talk of more at the culmination of the first date.
He called every day of the week until date two, even if it was just for a few minutes on his drive from point A to point B. Oh, did I also mention he lives almost an hour and half away, and he’s driven out here twice to see me?
This particular morning, I was rushing to get my hair nice and fresh as it still smelled like slightly burned popcorn from the other night. I was running late as I tried to eat a late brunch, make some calls for work and send out a creative homework assignment for something I’ll let you in on later. I wasn’t even finished drying my hair under the old-school salon hair dryer and I had yet to take a shower, when he calls to tell me that he is two exits away.
He tells me he will take it slow. Still, I know there is no way he can drive slowly enough for me to be ready before he gets here. So by the time I get out of the hairdryer, my mother is helping me to get rollers out of my hair and telling me that he is in the driveway shoveling my car out of more than a foot of snow, which has accumulated over several snowstorms. While more than a foot had already melted, he had expressed serious concerns about the wellbeing of my vehicle the first date, so he has taken it upon himself to help remedy the situation. Is the guy really for real?
I hop into the shower. I change my mind on an outfit. Decide to crank it up a notch. Look at myself from different angles in the mirror, change undershirts. Decide it doesn’t look right today. Change back to the original outfit. Pop in my contacts. Brush my teeth. Fix my do. Grab my computer—there’s work to be done even in our afternoon together. Run downstairs and he and my mom are chatting easily in the living room, while watching television.
There’s no rush to end the conversation. He doesn’t look relieved, like I have rescued him from “tortuous, awkward talk with parent.” They continue chatting, and I listen until we decide what we’re doing.
Our plans for the day are unformed, so when the plan—a science museum—doesn’t look like it’s worth the short time before closing, we decide to walk the city. We talk. We share stories. We sip our drinks.
Did I tell you that the moment we got in the car, he told me how beautiful my hair looked? How it was so full of body and sexy. Yeah, it was so worth being late.
When we got back to my house, he asked me to play him my music. I am ashamed to say that working like a maniac, it has literally been many months since I have picked up the guitar and seriously played. So yes, I forgot lyrics and chord changes here and there, but he didn’t seem to mind. He asked if he could record me on his iPhone, and even though I don’t want him to capture the flubs, I let him because he says he loves my voice.
Then I give him the neck massage I offered him when he was complaining about pain there earlier. Mmm. Muscular boy who smells so good. Somehow that leads to the living room and flipping each other over in play practice of the mixed martial art of jiu-jitsu.
There was something immensely satisfying when I flipped him, even though I knew he was letting me. Because I also knew the monkey in me had the natural ability to block some of his moves when he least expected it.
I sort of knew I would love it. But I’m not crazy enough to really get into it until I am at a more stable health status.
This time, I get a kiss good night. It’s chaste enough with my mother in the next room. But there is enough sparkle there that I know PG would turn PG13 or higher if we had the house to ourselves.
This time, I am happy to take things slow. See where things might go. He is showing me that it’s worth finding out where this might possibly lead.