Won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?
I didn't feel great at the start of the date. Not because of him, but because of the hideously uncomfortable dress I was safety pinned into. I'm not overly sure why I bought it if I'm honest, other than the fact that it cost about $4. It was too tight, made my boobs hang out in a most unattractive fashion, and if I wasn't wearing shorts underneath, it would have shown far too many levels of coochie. Alas, I wanted to look cute, and without my good bra, my favourite dress doesn't look right, so I fastened myself into this one and called it a day.
Thankfully, I am completely incapable of lying, and so I told him I was in agony and needed to take all my clothes off. I don't think any straight man would have said no to that, and so we hopped into an Uber and headed back to mine. One six-pack of beer and an ex-boyfriend's T-shirt later, I was happy.
We also ordered pizza. I don't know if you've ever had an orgasm interrupted by Uber Eats, but it was one of the most frustrating moments of my life. Made slightly funny by the fact that they messaged me asking if I was coming.
Yes, Mr delivery driver, yes, I was. But you put a pause on that.
The details of my orgasm, however, are irrelevant. What is relevant is him.
Have you ever kissed anyone in a way that didn't make you want to fuck them? Not right away, anyway. I didn't want to fuck him yet, and I didn't just want to touch him; I wanted to hold him. To have him in my arms as close to me as physically possible. His voice is so calming, he could read me bedtime stories. Lying on him as he spoke and feeling his words reverberate through his chest made the night blissful. Whether it was him, quitting my job or both, my heart felt open that night, and I kept thinking about the things about myself that I've missed. My love of words, my love of art, my love of music. There was something about him that made me look back on who I used to be, but not in the negative way I do when I think about my time as an addict. I was looking back on the things that make me happy that have slipped out of my life with time and age. Photography, painting, drawing. Things that I haven't played around with since college, but that are still somewhere inside me.
My condition means that I'm never going to feel the way other people do; it's impossible. I've always thought this meant I wasn't allowed to feel as happy and relaxed as I wanted to, and instead that I had to force myself into a life I thought I should have, rather than what I wanted. Something about that night changed this, though, and I was able to relax for the first time in a long, long time.
When I meet someone, I fall hard. I want to spend every moment I can with them, and sometimes end up moving in within a couple of days. It's very lesbian, very Uhaul, and very ironic given that I've only ever been in relationships with men. That can't happen this time.
The reason that can't happen is that he's a fisherman and left for high tide yesterday morning. He won't be back until the end of August. There's no way of thing can move too fast because he isn't here; he's miles and miles away in the ocean. A place I'm not. A place I cannot be.
That doesn't mean the insecurities won't creep in. I've never really worried about people I'm with wanting to be with other people, even when boyfriends were cheating on me right under my nose. What I do worry about is people going off me, of my coming on too strong and scaring people away. I don't want to worry about that this time, though. He's on a boat in the middle of the ocean. What's the worst that's going to happen? He stops messaging me back? It's not like I'm going to run into him anytime soon.
Like I said, he's coming back at the end of the month and we've made plans to see each other again. When we talked about his previous dating life, he talked about it being difficult to be in any kind of relationship with someone when he's at sea because of how much you can really trust someone to wait for you. But as my friend Irena in Toronto, whose husband lives in Japan, once said, It doesn't matter how far away someone is; if you care about them, you care about them. Distance is just distance.
He hasn't asked me to wait for him; I don't know if he ever would. But he has told me he wants to see me again, and I feel the same. I haven't been as brave as I know I can be lately, and so I've decided to be brave again. I want to wait for him. I'm going to wait for him. It feels good to wait for him.
I don't think he's going to mind
Stay safe on the road
J
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