It became one of many nights
where by sheer luck
I’d faceplant into some female’s crotch
simply because I chose to leave my apartment.
A night where I was on autopilot; not even thinking,
just doing.
Sipping champagne
eating birthday cake,
expensive chocolates
and listening to Thriller on vinyl.
I was too dumb to realize
that I’d been set up.
Her friends magically disappeared from the bar
and she needed someone to walk her back to her place
which conveniently was only blocks away from my own apartment.
And perhaps I could’ve been more aggressive
but like other times,
I was just happy to be in the right place
at the right time.
Not forcing any shots,
just staying in the flow of the offense.
And maybe instead of lamenting
what didn’t happen (like a few other encounters during that period),
I should be happy about what did take place
and grateful that nothing occurred
that would come back to haunt me years later.
I took it as far as one should on a first attempt
and looking back, I’m glad I didn’t press any further.
Only now can I understand the precarious combination of
of youth, booze, hormones and consent.
Which is why I always let the females take the lead
in such instances. Even then I was hyper aware of all the possibilities.
That evening was my first inkling that one could have a hot and kinky
sexual encounter without actually having coitus.
I limped home with a heavy buzz and a heavy sack,
hoping there was more to come.
~Edward Austin Robertson
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