One night stand
I don't understand this whole one night stand thing that these Europeans have got going on. Well, particularly European guys, although it takes two to clap.
So, on Friday, on a spontaneous whim, I decided to synthetically replicate the experience of a one night stand without the actual commitment of getting to know each other in the biblical sense.
The boy's opening line was: Do you speak English? I got so irate (this is my one sore point) that I immediately flipped him the third finger straight in his face. At which point he hastened to explain that he was French, and doesn't speak good English, so he doesn't assume everyone speaks English.
We ended up over-leaping convention and talking about some fairly intimate stuff... not intimate as in of-a-sexual-nature (although there was some of that too), but intimate as in close-to-the-heart. Somehow I was comfortable with him.
After the lights were switched on in the club at about 4.30am, he steered me out onto the street where he negotiated a cab fare back to his place. I was a bit annoyed at his unchivalrous behaviour at not asking where I was headed and offering to get a cab for me first, and told him: well I'll need to get a back. But he said: no, come on, just come home with me. I have gotten a cab for £20 back to my place, and it's here.
Because I felt comfortable with him, had some trust in him, and I've been bored recently and was in a bit of a reckless, pour-quoi pas? mood, I hesitated only slightly before saying: but you must promise not to have sex with me. He replied: not if you don't want to. And then I got in.
He had a nice place actually, in a part of town I'd never been to, but found really quiet and charming in the day time.
It was almost 5am when we got to his place, and I set my alarm for 8.45am to go for French class. We didn't end up having sex, although it wasn't from lack of effort on his part. At some point, I was so annoyed that I was about to walk out of his door and flag a cab on the street to go back home, even thought it was probably close to six or after by then.
In the morning, I woke up before my alarm rang, and began dressing. I turned and looked at his sleeping form, and fully intended to wake him up to say bye before I left. But while I was reading the back cover of a book that he had on his night stand, he stirred: what are you doing? where are you going? Don't leave like a thief.
I'm leaving. I have French class remember? I was going to wake you up before I left, really.
He made a disbelieving sound.
I leant over, kissed him lightly on his right cheek, and closed the door behind me.
He didn't have my number. I didn't have his.
I wonder: is this what a one night stand is like? Feels like?
Probably not I guess. And funnily enough... in movies, it's always the guy who sneaks off like a thief first thing in the morning. But this time it was me, the girl, who was sneaking off early in the morning, after a night of not-having-sex.
It was such a strange, unreal twist of the typical one night stand, that I couldn't help but be both confounded and amused.
Because we didn't actually have sex... presumably there would be no sense of guilt or awkwardness, fear of additional expectations/commitment, and he wouldn't feel like it was a mistake? I wonder, if he would want to see me again?
I wondered. He didn't ask for my number after all. I took down his address and I've decided to mail him a postcard with my number to say he can call if he wants. Judging by his mailbox, it doesn't seem as if he checks his mail often, if at all. But... I'll just send it anyway. I'm curious, but won't mind if he doesn't call. I'm not entirely sure what I expect anyway. We're clearly not friends, and I have doubts as to whether I want him as a lover (as in, a person I love, for a relationship).
But, oh well, que sera, sera.
So, on Friday, on a spontaneous whim, I decided to synthetically replicate the experience of a one night stand without the actual commitment of getting to know each other in the biblical sense.
The boy's opening line was: Do you speak English? I got so irate (this is my one sore point) that I immediately flipped him the third finger straight in his face. At which point he hastened to explain that he was French, and doesn't speak good English, so he doesn't assume everyone speaks English.
We ended up over-leaping convention and talking about some fairly intimate stuff... not intimate as in of-a-sexual-nature (although there was some of that too), but intimate as in close-to-the-heart. Somehow I was comfortable with him.
After the lights were switched on in the club at about 4.30am, he steered me out onto the street where he negotiated a cab fare back to his place. I was a bit annoyed at his unchivalrous behaviour at not asking where I was headed and offering to get a cab for me first, and told him: well I'll need to get a back. But he said: no, come on, just come home with me. I have gotten a cab for £20 back to my place, and it's here.
Because I felt comfortable with him, had some trust in him, and I've been bored recently and was in a bit of a reckless, pour-quoi pas? mood, I hesitated only slightly before saying: but you must promise not to have sex with me. He replied: not if you don't want to. And then I got in.
He had a nice place actually, in a part of town I'd never been to, but found really quiet and charming in the day time.
It was almost 5am when we got to his place, and I set my alarm for 8.45am to go for French class. We didn't end up having sex, although it wasn't from lack of effort on his part. At some point, I was so annoyed that I was about to walk out of his door and flag a cab on the street to go back home, even thought it was probably close to six or after by then.
In the morning, I woke up before my alarm rang, and began dressing. I turned and looked at his sleeping form, and fully intended to wake him up to say bye before I left. But while I was reading the back cover of a book that he had on his night stand, he stirred: what are you doing? where are you going? Don't leave like a thief.
I'm leaving. I have French class remember? I was going to wake you up before I left, really.
He made a disbelieving sound.
I leant over, kissed him lightly on his right cheek, and closed the door behind me.
He didn't have my number. I didn't have his.
I wonder: is this what a one night stand is like? Feels like?
Probably not I guess. And funnily enough... in movies, it's always the guy who sneaks off like a thief first thing in the morning. But this time it was me, the girl, who was sneaking off early in the morning, after a night of not-having-sex.
It was such a strange, unreal twist of the typical one night stand, that I couldn't help but be both confounded and amused.
Because we didn't actually have sex... presumably there would be no sense of guilt or awkwardness, fear of additional expectations/commitment, and he wouldn't feel like it was a mistake? I wonder, if he would want to see me again?
I wondered. He didn't ask for my number after all. I took down his address and I've decided to mail him a postcard with my number to say he can call if he wants. Judging by his mailbox, it doesn't seem as if he checks his mail often, if at all. But... I'll just send it anyway. I'm curious, but won't mind if he doesn't call. I'm not entirely sure what I expect anyway. We're clearly not friends, and I have doubts as to whether I want him as a lover (as in, a person I love, for a relationship).
But, oh well, que sera, sera.
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