So this one time, I won the Cougar Olympics. The whole thing.
Okay, not just the one time, I won the Pan Am games too, but that is another tale along the riverbank.
23 days before I turned 40.
No wait. Back up.
4 months earlier…
I was quite literally trolling for casual sex on a friend’s Facebook list.
9 months, no rain and there was a storm comin’. I was looking for fall-out shelter.
Me “I want that one.”
T “Ughhhhh. He’s like 24”
Me “no no no ”
T “Yeah yeah yeah. Someone else…?
Me “nope, I just scrolled through his pic’s. I’m done”
Fishing expedition cancelled on account of a hurricane sized tantrum.
I was afraid I would chew him up and spit him out.
There are rules here. Leave EVERYONE better than you found them.
Therein lies the gold.
Especially with young un’s.
100 days later, his face forgotten, getting laid quite happily.
The Great Conjunction.
I was planning a trip to LA, had been flirting with a poet, asked him out for coffee and he got nasty.
St. Anthony messaged me on my way to see Sunday and fucking Young Un shows up in my inbox.
Ya. THAT one.
“He pulled a mind fuck on us and talked” (The Lost Boys). rather intelligently, for 4 fucking hours.
Ever been on one of those dates that you expect to go really badly, like you’re 40, you just got tattooed and you agreed to meet a 24 year old rock star and you figure he is just going to regale you with tales of beer pong and his band and your vagina is going to slam shut to keep out the drivel? Me neither.
6 hours later we were still talking, nachos barely touched. Him halfway through his 2nd beer. The girl who dates alcoholics takes note.
I actually forgot it was a date, that we weren’t just old friends catching up, until he walked me to my car, asked me if he could see me again and kissed me.
I looked him in the eye and said ‘Jesus, I am going to get shredded”
He said, ‘one of us is’.
I replied ‘probably me’.
The gods looked down and said “as you wish”. Twice.
I just deleted all of his messages, all 4000.
They painted a way different picture than what I chose to remember.
The first time we fucked, he came over for dinner. We were both all blushy, clumsy and shy. I turned the burners off, took a righteous swig of whiskey and said “why don’t we just fuck now and get it over with so we can enjoy dinner.”
We did. It set a lovely precedent.
Wherein I was both clever and in charge.
We were walking down Queen Street one sunny afternoon and people kept stopping us to say “you two are the most beautiful couple ever”.
Not just the once either, we were almost late for dinner.
That night I got overwhelmed by being around people for too long and he just let me lean on him until it was time to go home.
And that is when the insecure sabotage clinging began.
That safety I felt, well it could go away couldn’t it. That ain’t safe.
Fuck.
I was so busy being intimidated, I forgot how intimidating I am.
I got scared, so I scared him off.
Rightly so.
We had rules of engagement. I let him break all of mine. I didn’t have permission to break his, or him. I was the adult.
I reacted to not feeling good enough by spoiling him, quite literally rotten.
Even then he tried.
Before I pulled my sugar mama pants on over my sweet sweet ass, things were good.
I went to his shows, met his friends. We were out for breakfast he was talking about how his mom had adopted him just a few months after she had adopted a crack baby. My heart breaks with the things that break the heart of God. I cried into my benny. He practically leapt over the table to console me and didn’t let go of me for days after that.
He took me out, showed me off, bragged about me, his friends stood up for me for fuck sakes.
“Is that the Mike’s stripper?”
“The stripper has a name, show some respect.”
Every time we fucked he looked like he had attained Nirvana.
He held my hand and opened doors, and fucked like a 24 year old rock star, go figure. I shoulda just let it be.
He said one morning all sleepy and adorable that he was ‘living the dream’.
Why the hell did I have to go and shake the baby.
Oh well.
Even on his way out he said “I HAVE to stay in your life, I have things to show you.”
He was right. For the first two months and the last 6 words.
Lessons learned. In absentia.
“I thought about what you said. Stayed up half the night thinking about it. Then something occurred to me and I fell into a deep sleep and I haven’t thought about you since”. (Good Will Hunting)
You’re just a kid.
I’ll see him one day. He’ll wait for me to smile, and he will smile back.
After all, I left him better than I found him.
you don’t have to tell all. you don’t have to answer all. but it always feels as though you do tell all. so, i have a question. how did you leave him better?
~
you give so much of you in your writing. i feel as though i take a very piece of your soul when i finish reading a piece.
i realized, and commented the second time i posted a link today, that anyone who was around would tell me i am full of shit.
i am my own best spin doctor and worst enemy. there will be a part two and therein will lie the explanation. there is the black and the white and when you mix the two it’s grey.
long story short, he had ugly duckling syndrome and had just grown into his own, along with a beard and a good haircut. to romanticize i gave him my eyes so he could see how wonderful he was, is how i left him better.
i can’t find a way to edit my comment. the last line should read: i feel as though i take a piece of your soul when i finish reading a piece (and i’m not pleased with the usage of piece twice in the same sentence).
this is such a delicate dance and you described it so well. That “adult responsibility” idea can raise its ugly head at the worst of times it seems. Despite that…I’d do it again.
same here. i really feel like we all have a relationship responsibility to leave everyone better than we found them