2002-09-16 - 8:28 p.m.

“I want your legs to clench together so tightly with pleasure that I leave earmarks on the inside of your thighs.”

This is what he said when he called me from some seductive night club in Spain last night. I could hear the loud, pounding music in the background, it made me dizzy with lust, that sound, that thumping rhythm that vibrated through the phone and my fingers and landed directly in my bones. I imagined it, that loud music, a dark club, the haze of smoke drifting through sultry Spanish air that had slid over the sea, over naked bodies on the beach and finally streamed into the club to infiltrate lungs and blood with its snake of seduction. I could understand why he felt that tug to have me there with him, why he kept saying, “You NEED to be here, NOW.” And GOD, how I wished I were there, NOW.

He talked dirty to me last night, words that oozed with desire, words that latched onto my heart, my legs, my lips, that spot between my legs. He fantasized about train rides into Paris, how his hands would reach under my coat and...he talked about dark nights and candles flickering on his balcony, bathed in light from the Eiffel Tower, how his body would press against mine, how his lips would ravish me. He talked of all these things in a loud, Spanish night club at three in the morning. And I was caught unaware. How long has it been since I have been a sexual person? Have I ever been? I am aware now that this is what was missing in my life, THIS, this dirty talk, this unabashed desire to have me, to know me on every level. I found myself last night not knowing how to respond to him. There was some part of me that latched on to that girl I try so hard to be, that girl that looks like she stepped right off a Dove commercial, fresh, innocent. But there are times, times when I catch myself touching my waist lightly, bringing attention to the slimness of my waist, the curve it creates against the line of my hip, times when I say things with a seductive purr to men, like when a customer orders his toast with just a little butter, not sopping wet and I say, “ just want it lightly moistened then, that’s too bad, it’s so much better sopping wet....” and his face flushes with astonishment and desire. I know that somewhere within me resides that sexual person, that vixen, the woman that can make a man explode with just a touch. But I lost her somewhere. I lost her somewhere in that five years when foreplay to me was, “pull your pants down.”

That is the extent of my sexual experience. Sure, there were the one night guys, the men I would date for a few weeks, sleep with and then get rid of because once we reached the sexual part of the relationship there was nothing more to keep my attention. I didn’t have a real boyfriend until J., I had boyfriends, people I dated, but not a relationship. Nobody before J. could keep my attention, no one was smart enough to converse with me, there was just physical attractions that fizzled out once the sex was out of the way. I stayed with J. because he was smart, because he could do anything, because he was loyal, because he was comfortable and because I couldn’t imagine not having him in my life. I knew, from the beginning, that there was no passion in our relationship but I never, not in a million years, thought there was anyone out there that could teach me the things he did, that could talk to me the way he did, never thought there was anyone out there as intelligent as he. Until E. I realize now how incredible it is that I have found someone that within the same e-mail as we are discussing unions, politics and human nature can also talk about how wet my underwear will be when I arrive in France after an eight hour flight thinking of nothing but his hands roaming over my skin and his lips crushing into mine. This is what I always wanted, but didn’t know I wanted.

There were times that J. would venture outside his, “Pull your pants down,” foreplay and actually touch me “down there” with his hands...I can count those times on two hands. And the times that his mouth found way down there, as incredible as those times were, I can count on one hand. But, by then, when he did try to make the experience pleasurable for me, I was already ruined. I already felt undesirable, I already felt like a mere tool for him to get off on...or in. So, those few times that he actually made an effort were wasted because I was already a shell at that point. I was already ruined. I see that now, I see that I was devastated to a point where I thought that was the best I would ever get. That’s why, when E. called from that bar last night, crooning words of desire for me, I was speechless. I had no idea how to respond. I was in a serious blank spot. Somewhere inside me I could feel that tug, that need, that desire, but I couldn’t believe it, it was a foreign feeling to me, I had no idea how to deal with it. The words were on the tip of my tongue, wanting to tell him how a warm flush had seeped over my face, over my chest, how my breath was coming in short gasps as he spoke, how my heart set itself on perpetual pound mode, how much I wanted to be there NOW so I could feel him, so I could touch him...but I couldn’t get those words past my lips because I was dumbfounded.

I feel sorry for those women (and men) who are locked in relationships where their needs are not met, those relationships where it has gone too far to every rectify anything. But I understand it, I know how the mind just believes that “this is it, this is all I will ever get.” But I am here to tell you now that there is more, if you yearn for more, it is there. It might sneak upon you unaware, but it is there. I cannot believe that this person that I have been merely friends with for the last year has turned into someone who is everything to me. I didn’t believe in fairy tales. J. said just months ago, “You know what your problem is? You think everything should be a fairy tale, and those don’t exist.” At that time I believed him, I thought I was a fool for wanting more. But now I know, fairy tales do exist. Don’t ever settle. |

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