To Be Continued

25 Aug

 

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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