I picked my wife up from LAX when she got in at nine. I asked her how her trip went and she told me fine. I asked if anything fun happened, and she kinda responded. I guess (or I guess I know) she was staying with her married friends Linda and Shawn, and Linda is now five months pregnant. "A lot of baby talk." "All their friends now are couples." I didn't have the nerve to ask if she mentioned me. "I've still got a half pint of Jack Daniels, you want to have a couple drinks tonight?"
Cut to: her apartment. Some Beck (Sea Change). The full story of boredom on the East Coast. Petty jealousies. Insults directed at Aili's choice of profession. Flirting. Mutual flirting. An empty bottle of Jack, mostly her doing. A comment "What I'd really like is some hard dick in me right now." (and that's burned in my brain for keeps). Nicotine stained kissing. Clumsy touching. Briskly removed underwears. A lack of condoms brushed off with quick comments about our relative cleanliness. Thrusting. Premature ejaculation.
"What you wishin' see I'm keep you up all night,
for a long time so I'm countin' away.
Break me off,
show me what you got,
cuz I don't want no
one minute man."
I wanted to spray paint in turquoise my apologia on her living room wall. I told her that I had spent the last couple with my family (see the post two back). I wanted the chance at more foreplay, to perhaps even the score as it were (though decidedly after a shower on both our parts.
"Well, you got what you wanted." Did I, did I? We laid there in her living room, mostly naked (my shirt was still on [though my socks were off], her shirt was still around her neck), and I started in by saying it had been a while for me. An awkward conversation ensued. I stayed the night. We woke up early and I apologized in a fashion. And now I'm more confused than ever. Work went well for a while, but I had to stop for a bit and decompress. The questions in my head about what to do and not to do (calling, flowers, etc.) are still circling me. I didn't call today. Perhaps it's fair to suggest that if she likes me like that, I can do no wrong, and if she's offended, then I can do no right. She's going with me to a birthday party this weekend (and maybe if she can swing it this thing I'm doing on Thursday), unless she cancels.
And so I return to the profound wisdom of Russ Meyer: "One wonders if that the fucking that you get is worth the fucking that you get."