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It didn’t take me long to convince her for the trip. A weekend getaway. After a day’s long hike and a good dinner, we reached for our room that night. The trip was important to both of us for different reasons. I had been single for a while and I needed some company. She found in me a soul to fix her broken heart.

I had met her at an event, almost a year ago. She looked gorgeous in her black top covered under a light blue shirt. She had a tom-boy look with seductive eyes. I was sold! Already.

She went straight to the balcony after reaching the room, clasping her arms around the wooden rile while looking at nothing in particular. I hugged her from behind, held her tight and then smoothly rubbed my cheek against hers. She giggled and then turned around to kiss me on my cheek. I returned the favour with one on her forehead. She took me by my hand and lead me towards the bed.

I wasn’t quite interested in wooing her the first time we met for I was seeing someone else. Curiosity had taken its own time to evolve. Our conversation later began over messages around my birthday. I found something unusual in her just like I found in a few other women.

We showered each other with kisses for the first time since I met her. She was on top of me while I struggled for air. I found it completely fine not to breathe for that moment. She let my hand slip between the buttons of her shirt. My hand reached out to unhook the bra on her back but then found it difficult. Like I always have. She helped me through it as we blushed together. I unbuttoned her shirt. My fingertips trailed down her waist to press against it. She liked that.

Our conversations got more interesting and deeper with time. We spoke about our travel dreams, bucketlist goals, crazy things-to-do, dark secrets, favorite pass-times but more importantly, we explored and understood ourselves through our conversations. We were more like jig-sawed puzzles but somehow we synced really well.

Our mouths explored each others. I played chords on her spine with one hand as she stretched her back getting closer towards me. Her breasts heaved as my fingers slipped between them. I turned her around placing my palm across her belly. She bit her tongue and I reached for her denim. She pulled my hand back with the “no” of her head shake that was nearly imperceptible. She knew I wouldn’t force it on her. I had narrated to her about having made love to another woman before who didn’t mind it but didn’t want it, either. I also told her how I regret having done that.

I found. A friend. A dreamer. And a listener. In her. The her that I talked to endlessly about dreams, philosophies, love, travel, sex and poetry. We talked about everything and nothing. Our words made connections beyond the ordinary. Our words were imaginary shoulders for each other to lie upon and our moments were distant realities where happiness was a constant.

She really liked me but she wasn’t sure if she loved me. She offered to start a relationship, I declined. She said men could do with just sex but some women aren’t just wired that way. She found something missing. Passion. She found the knot missing without commitment. She wanted me to give her orgasms not just with my touch but also with my heart.

I liked the bond we shared. The stories we discussed. And the moments we wrote. This wasn’t new to me but I wanted to spend some time with her, not forever. I asked her to travel with me. She was not sure about it initially but later realized she needed it more than I did. We planned it together not aware of where this trip would take us. Not in terms of distance but attachment. We started our journey.

I couldn’t have spoken for other men but I told her sex to me has always been just another emotion. I’ve always yearned for touches and moments. I’ve been hurt before with attachments and I was not ready yet for another one. I did not want to lose myself again. I did not want to be another artist making an impossible leap trying to create a different future.

Our journey had almost come to an end. Her words echoed under my ears, the words she never said. I patiently listened to her silence watching her eyes close swiftly. I gently placed my palm across her cheek and ran my fingers from her eyebrow to her chin. She threw a smile and it seemed contagious. It didn’t take long for my face to reflect hers. I quickly retreated to my side of the bed holding on to the smile.

I spent the rest of the night in solitude staring at the night sky through the window, before shutting my eyes. I was happy. I had a peaceful sleep. The sun rays woke me up next morning. She was still there.

I thought she was asleep until I found her searching for my hand. I gave in and I let her hold my hand for one last time. Her fingers held mine so tight that they filled the space between, leaving no void. I felt complete and it felt like forever even though our forever just lasted a few seconds.  It was not long before I bid goodbye to her, riding on the hopes of never being intimate with her again. Neither physical nor emotional.

It took me some time to understand women like her and perhaps, it will take the world some time to understand men like me.

~Sex, Stereotypes and Solitude~

ImageCredits – Sexedcenter

 

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