Remember my co-worker for my first blog ever? Well, we're still friends. And actually, good friends. I knew we had officially morphed into friends when he sent me a text around 4:00 on Friday asking me if I wanted to go to Happy Hour. Actually, the events surrounding the text message are what clued me in. My response to his invite? "Absolutely. Where?" He proceeds to tell me it's a charity thing at a fancy downtown steakhouse.
Oh wow, THE fancy steakhouse downtown. I'm in. I had never been there before. So he tells me it's from 5-7. Crap, I don't get off work until 6. I leave early and we meet plan to meet at said fancy steakhouse. We run into each other on the way there and he's dressed nicer than I normlly see him dressed.
We go in and commence to having free cocktails (free to me, he paid for this soiree). We grab some chairs and start bullshitting, our favorite past-time when we're hanging out. They bring around plates of appetizers and he starts with a mini-burger. Then they come by with mini-steaksandwiches. I tell him to take one; I can tell he doesn't want to look like a pig so I want him to know I don't care if he makes a pig out of himself in front of me. I put my plate out so he can put the sandwich on it without making himself look like the glutton. He laughs and says, "I'm so glad I can be myself around you." People, I actually felt bad for him. He and I can't be an item because we want different things in life, but we enjoy spending time together and can relax with each other with no pressure. That lightbulb went on above my head and even more lights made up my visual Welcome to the Friend Zone! marquee sign.
We're having a good time laughing and people watching. He starts chatting with the hosts, and they know of him (he's politically connected). Turns out they're having a drawing for a $200 shot of Louis XIII cognac. We're in. We both make donations to be put in the drawing. When I put in my donation, I gave them his name. I wanted him to win, even though he kept saying if he won, he was going to make me do the shot. I couldn't let him get away with that and when they called out his name, we laughed and he proudly walked up alone to claim his prize. I hung back while they announced his name and he said a few words. Once he had a sip, I joined him and had a sip. Wow, I never knew cognac could go down without burning my throat.
Having a good friend isn't such a bad thing. Our relationship started a little rocky. But now I know he feels like he can be himself around me, I'd rather be a friend and let him be himself than be a girl who he's trying to impress. I like him as himself.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Old Lovers and Friends
What to do, what to do? You have a good-looking man wanting you, and you want him. But you have a past with him. A torrid past. You once shared hot, steamy sex a la Jack Nicholson and Jessica Lange in the Postman Always Rings Twice. Yes, that hot.
But you stopped having that steamy sex and you became friends. Not just friends, but trusted friends. You talk. You share problems with careers, other relationships, your respective families and friends. Your friendship never even veers anywhere toward that steam you once shared. It's reliable, fun, and very comforting.
But this is now. And many years later. You're older and so is he. You remember what things were like before between you two. Your mind vaguely flashes on why you're not still having that hot, steamy sex but you can't focus on it. All you can focus on is the tension you're feeling in certain places and the way he's looking at you, and the words he's saying. You focus on his lips, saying those words. You remember those lips and what they did to you before.
You test out the waters by dipping a toe in the jacuzzi of lust. It's hot and steamy, just like you remember, and you want to just immerse yourself. You try to slowly guide yourself into the swirling waters but you can't go slow. You throw your body into it. Next thing you know, you're panting, sweating and loving every minute of the warmth surrounding your body.
Oh people, the physical part was just as I remembered it, but with a greater urgency. We knew every inch of each others' bodies and traveled them like a favorite path. There was familiarity and caring, mixed with unadulterated lust. We couldn't get enough of each other. It was young lust with adult knowledge. When it was over, it was tough to pull away from each other.
Was this a one-time thing? Or will we have moments like this again in the future? I'm not sure. But the memory of that encounter won't leave me for a long time to come. I catch myself thinking about that one encounter more than the many encounters we shared in the past and, like a favorite recipe, I can't wait to try it again.
But you stopped having that steamy sex and you became friends. Not just friends, but trusted friends. You talk. You share problems with careers, other relationships, your respective families and friends. Your friendship never even veers anywhere toward that steam you once shared. It's reliable, fun, and very comforting.
But this is now. And many years later. You're older and so is he. You remember what things were like before between you two. Your mind vaguely flashes on why you're not still having that hot, steamy sex but you can't focus on it. All you can focus on is the tension you're feeling in certain places and the way he's looking at you, and the words he's saying. You focus on his lips, saying those words. You remember those lips and what they did to you before.
You test out the waters by dipping a toe in the jacuzzi of lust. It's hot and steamy, just like you remember, and you want to just immerse yourself. You try to slowly guide yourself into the swirling waters but you can't go slow. You throw your body into it. Next thing you know, you're panting, sweating and loving every minute of the warmth surrounding your body.
Oh people, the physical part was just as I remembered it, but with a greater urgency. We knew every inch of each others' bodies and traveled them like a favorite path. There was familiarity and caring, mixed with unadulterated lust. We couldn't get enough of each other. It was young lust with adult knowledge. When it was over, it was tough to pull away from each other.
Was this a one-time thing? Or will we have moments like this again in the future? I'm not sure. But the memory of that encounter won't leave me for a long time to come. I catch myself thinking about that one encounter more than the many encounters we shared in the past and, like a favorite recipe, I can't wait to try it again.
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