The lightness of all

When it was over, we laughed, about Apple Pay. About the ingenuity of this system that worked, from beginning to end, it worked where Google Wallet failed. I talked about payment to him, he voiced his opinion, and he wanted to see if I have used Apple Pay, strangely I had not. I confessed. I needed for the security bug to fix itself. I said. I wanted for all the kinks to work themselves out before I sign up. He said that it was easy and that he did make it work, very easily, at Walmart. We talked about the shuttles. FaceBook, Google, Yahoo shuttles that took people from one part of town to another part of the town, the entire bay area was a town to us. He was from L.A., and he had lived in many places, among his residences, Connecticut and New York City. I found that a bit strange. I learned that he had attended a state school here in the West Coast and then he moved to the East Coast. He was a partner at a marketing firm. And he now worked for a startup division of a technology giant.

He told me about dating women on OKC. How they would lie about their age, and how they were in their 30s and 40s and yet they still lived with roommates, barely holding down a job, they were into their 4th career by the time they turn 40,  from a massage therapist to a something else, hopping from one job to another but with no real prospect of a career, how they were the adults who never grew up from being a burner. Permanently living a life of a young adult, when they were in their late 30s and mid 40s, looking to finally get married, and have kids. 

How once he walked a woman home to her place, and she was in her 30s and she shared a house with several roommates. How they had so very little, and did not seem to worry about their future, until they are hitting late 30s and 40s. 

He told me about his mentors. His friends, dropping names as if I ought to know them. He was smacking his lips, chewing, turned out that he was chewing gum, I asked for a piece so he got up and got me a piece. 

By then his cat had decided to lay her head on his lap, and he balanced his cat and me, afraid of me falling onto of his cat, when I tried to avoid his cat, he almost felt offended, as if I was making a choice to choose no one when I should, ought to choose both of them.

When he made love to me, I looked up and I saw those impossibly blue eyes, small and squinting. He was nearsighted but when he removed his glasses he looked more refined with his soft skin and beautiful facial structure. I'm partial to fair skinned men. I liked them blond and blue eyes. Or green eyes. Hair needed to be unruly and light colored at the very least. He had some blond hair now mixed his gray, he was not a young man. At age 47, he still got carded and he was proud of his youthful looks. I told him that I used to have a crush on a man who looked somewhat like him. I was 22 and he was 39, I said. He said, oh I see. You have a pattern. Previously I had told him about another man I dated in my early 20s who was also in his late 30s. He said if there were three things of common theme, then it was a pattern. At the time it was only two things, but then I went on to tell him about this man who was a major VC in the valley at the time, whom had courted and dated me for years, but I could not bring myself to fuck him because his last name was a male sex organ. He said, oh there was the third, and it was officially a pattern. I did like older men but that was many years ago. Now I liked them young. Or youngish, I declared. 

He was very talkative, and he had a lot to say and I realized he was way smarter than he looked. He was offended by the comment so he asked me "why?" I said "Good looking guys tend not to be so smart. You are an exception." 

I always knew my weakness with men were their looks. If I did find the attractive, I wanted to fuck them, and when I did, it sort of made me emotionally vulnerable. I liked men who looked like him. With strong jaw bones and sensual lips. 

For a man who was 6'1", he liked women who were petite like his mother, his mother was French and his ex wife was also as tall as me. It was a pattern for him too, as it turned out. We laid on the couch, chilling, like he did all day and I did all day, separately.

I may find midwesterners intense and east coast men direct, I am the most comfortable with Californian men, and men from the Northwest. It was always the chill, laidbackness that made me more in tune with things. I was not exactly so sure about the reason but I knew I liked them blond and sunny. 

He had a large instrument. One that made me squiggly happy. He was good at fucking, though he called me "my love" and sex "making love" like a Frenchman did. He always walked me to my car when I needed to leave. He was not exactly sure about a lot of things, yet he was okay with it. He knew that I had a long term boyfriend whom I saw very rarely. A husband who I am not having sex with for many years, two children, and two sets of folks. I had never talked to others like I had talked to him. 

He had a step daughter a cat a job and his scarf. He liked finer things in life. He liked dining out and going out. He was a bit taken aback by my aggressiveness, my pursuit of him, but he also liked it because I think it made him less worried about being shut down, though I think he was getting used to it.

I wanted to spend the remaining days together before he had to head out for his vacation back at his home in Nice. I wanted to go to a party or two, eat at a couple of fun restaurants, and I wanted to spend the evenings at his place so that I could wake up with him, grab brunch and settle down on his porch, to read, to hike, and to lounge all day long, like he belonged to me and I belonged to him.

His house was large and beautiful. It did not feel American to me, it felt European, like he was. 

He brought me into his house, it had been a few months since he had a serious girlfriend. I asked if he was only dating white. It seemed to be the case. He said one of his longest relationship was with an Asian. I smiled. I didn't want to be the first. 

He's led an uncomplicated life. I had my shares of complication. We were not exactly the same. He was enjoying the opportunity of getting laid. I was cute but not exactly the relationship person for him. I sort of landed on his lap. He did not want to lose me, or he won't get laid as much.

I like the lightness of this. I like how he made me so excited. I like what I see.

I intend to see it through.

Five Years Later

She saw him coming in. She was early. She had a coffee in her hand. He had his usual beanie hat. He was 54, a middle age man. She was 46, turning 47 in a couple of months.

It was the summer and the weather was as usual, cold and windy. She remembered him talking about the weather, the last time they met, she knew it was the end of it all, when he spoke about weather, and she wondered why people always spoke about weather when they ran out of things to say.

The last kiss he planted on her mouth was gentle and hurried, and he said, "bye hon". She wondered why he called her "hon", like she was someone to him. She wondered if he called the mother, his children's mother, "hon" as well, and how it felt so different than when he said, "come here, my love." The way it used to be.

She smiled and looked up as he approached. She was slightly older but not by much. She's rapidly leaving her prime, but she aged well. He was still looking the same, a bit more tired. She wondered how many more women he had bed. When he got stressed out, he fucked. He fucked to relieve stress and to break her heart. Each time when he told her how he fucked others, she was excited and saddened at the same time. She never told him why, because he did not care about why. He did not care about her at all, and yet she thought nothing mattered when it came to love. Until it was too late.

He asked her how things were. She told him everything was the same. Children were older, they were now in high school and middle school. She had gotten a new job and returned to the city, her stocks had vested and she was working more now in this new company.

He reluctantly asked her about her love life, she smiled. Yes there were lovers here and there. A young man who was now finally approaching 40, she had been with him for seven years, the young man and she met when they were dating, and she kept him under wrap, because he was insignificant, yet she loved sex with him. He was gorgeous, tall, blond and Swedish. He and his wife finally had children, but she saw him still, it was the longest relationships she had to-date. There were others as well, a running list of men came through her head, some were very young, 20 years junior, some were his age, or slightly younger. A boyfriend who lived in Berkeley for years, he was divorced, and had a good looking lab, he was tall and European, and he loved her and showered her with gifts, took her to vacations, he had impeccable taste and lavish lifestyle. He was nearly too good to be true but he was all that, but he was her first rebound after they had broken up and she couldn't love him back. He knew that and he finally let her go. He always knew that he was unable to compete with the last love she had.  Another man came into her life, he was about his age and also from the midwest, he loved her and was ready to give her everything she ever wanted. He was also very tall and had a very midwesterner's demeanor. He wanted to sweep off her feet and took her home to see his mom and dad, she refused. She couldn't bear to leave her children and husband.

There were many others since then. Some were more memorable than others. A couple, lawyers, who lived in the peninsula were very interested in her. They wanted her to move in eventually, she did, briefly, on days she worked down south. The husband was very good in bed, to her surprise, the wife was better, not to her surprise. They did a lot of holidays together. They cooked for her too and showered her with compliments. She continued to see them to this date.

A man who was from the East Coast wanted her to become a stable third to his relationship, though she found him a bit too creepy and the girlfriend too slippery. She ended up dating the man until recently, because she found out he took on another woman who was just like her and she wanted out.

There were still many others, some stories she could remember some she couldn't.

She was astonished by how many who were too eager to shower her with gifts and affection and she couldn't open her heart again.

She did not ask him about his stories. She knew him too well to ask any questions. His life never did change, they met twenty years ago, and he had never changed.

She did not ask him about his children but he told her about them anyway.

And he showed her pictures. In his phone she saw pictures of the children and her own photos. For five years since they stopped seeing each other, she continued sending her nudes to him. Whenever he asked, and whenever she felt like it. He liked them and she liked sending them. It was the only thing that bonded them. She liked her photos being in his possession, it was the only way that made her feel alive. Him seeing photos of her, she sending photos of herself.

She told him that she finally started to have anal sex. One of her lovers had finally figured out how. They went on and on for years until he was good at it and she came violently the first time it did happen. It was a nice feeling. To finally try something new.

She cashed in on her start up stocks, it was a significant chunk of change. She took the money and bought a new place, in the city, a condo, in the city center area. She needed to be close to Hayes Valley, she said, though a condo in Dogpatch almost got her excited.  She now stayed in her own place on some nights, so she could be alone and her children saw her mostly on those nights when her husband was away.

He looked at her, and said she looked still very attractive, very hot. She smiled. Thank you she said.

He reached for her hand, she was startled by it but she let him hold her.

"I always love you, you know that." He said.

She did not believe him, but she liked to hear that. She liked to think that she meant something to him, that her love for him, the undying love, the devotion, did not go on wasted.

"What is love anyway?" She said. "I suppose you know what it is, because you love your children." She added.

"Remember I used to tell you this is it? This,  you and me, this is it. I knew that I couldn't, and wouldn't love another. I would have done anything and everything for you. That was my demise." She concluded.

Her phone buzzed. She said that she had to go. She's been dating this woman, whose husband was out of town, they are headed to the movies, then she'll be staying over. Sex has been great with her, way better than the men she's been bedding. It was very lovely to sleep with a woman, and how she learned to orgasm when she least expected.

He joked, "I'd love to watch you two." She said, "Yes you would."

Goodbyes were said. He watched her to leave from the behind. She had a leaner, more athletic built. She had been running 50 milers and she was beginning to become good at this ultramarathon business. This woman she dates also ran ultras. They were a good fit, she said. She was erect and taller than he had remembered.

There was an air of foreignness about her, gone was her fragility and sadness, she was more assure of herself, and she was more resolute.

He waited for her to turn, and just as he was about to give up, she did, with a smile, she mouthed, "I love you too." And then, she was gone. 

Raining Evening

He introduced her to his cat. The cat who was named after the Queen of France, she’s 11 years old, dark, gray, black fur, she had impossibly green yellow marble eyes. She purred and she sat on his lap.

She brought her work to do so she laid on the cat’s bed and started reading. He just returned from a very long day at work, and he was exhausted. He watched TV on the same cat bed, the $4000 cat bed. 

She touched his unruly hair on occasion. He touched her face and kissed her forehead. Then he got up to pour himself a glass of rose. He liked wine. he was in the wine business. He had a nasal accent, the Southern Californian draw. But he then spoke French, with ease, he was half French and half English. His mother from Nice, father from Liverpool. She did not like French men ordinarily. She thought that they were boring, feminine and fussy. But she was a through and through Californian, who liked men tall and blond, stylish and laid back. And he was also that.

Now the cat was taking over his entire lap, and she rested her head on his shoulder and read. 

The rain had stopped and they talked about their plans before the holidays. As she looked up he looked down, she noticed that he had those impossibly blue eyes, his hair blond and unruly, and he was tall for being half French. He was 6’1” and broad shouldered, like a rugby player, but his style of fashion was too European to be mainstream American. He’d look good in a Dolce Gabbana ad. They talk about the holidays. He was leaving for France and she was leaving for Portland. There was a week in between. She wanted to go away. He lived in Los Gatos. She went to high school there. “Do you want to get a hotel and stay down there?” He asked. He liked planning such things. She’s never met a man who liked to plan activities. She wanted to go to party or two. He wanted to do things with her, and he had plans that he wanted to share with her. Hiking, pizza, pool, going away, playing house, staying at his place, and eating out. “I don’t cook, you know.” He said, “That’s okay, we will go out.” In that single defining moment, he planned a whole week before their departures, like they’d be dating for a long time. She asked if he would be available to talk while he’s away. He said, “You can reach me. My cell phone, whatsapp, email. Do that.” She was astonished yet again, a man who was available, to her, at all hours. She liked that. Availability, the willingness to share his life, with her. A man who lived in so many places, and felt at home wherever he went.

She wanted to do things but she did not have any experience with men who was enjoying planning. Thus a dilemma. A man who was ready to share his life. A man whom she was attracted to. A walking wounded woman. A neglected, independent woman who had been ignored, and never been loved. 

He did marketing for living. He was used to flashy things in life. She was more on the conservative side of life. She did not have any idea how to be wooed. So she was skeptical at best. 

He grabbed her hands as she flipped through the pages of her textbook. He had huge hands. She took his hand and held it tight. There was a glimpse of complete adoration that she almost missed, to reassure her, he kissed her forehead. She purred like the cat. Then the cat did the same.

At a brink of discovering myself

Have been going out on dates with couples. I'm bi. I'm not straight. I want to date a couple.

So far experiences are very great. They all like me and they all want to invite me and experience new things.

I have been enjoying this.

I'm no longer 8 headed monster.

I am now ready to be me.

I'm not straight. I like women and men. I want to have a relationship with both of them.

I love my children. I love my husband. I love my boyfriend. I love my lovers. I love my work. I love to exercise.

This is what I need.

Now how do I figure this all out?

I need time.