The Safe Word is Origami …

Origami …

For the last two weeks I’ve been walking in a spider web — metaphorically speaking. I’ve been completely immersed in something a lot like love lust like. Perhaps it could best be described as pre-ejacu”like”tory feelings.

I  can count on one hand two fingers the number of times I’ve felt this way. #1. Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop (my 1st real relationship)  and #2. Don’t Ask, Won’t Tell (my closetly gay ex). While both instances met untimely and rather tragic ends, I’m amazed and somewhat perplexed whenever this feeling — the butterflies, returns. Not to mention scared-as-hell. I actually think a little bit of pee came out while I was typing this. I’m terrified of anything that remotely looks, feels, tastes, resembles love (and various derivatives/synonyms there of) … It literally scares the hell out of me! Seriously.

Let’s back track if you will … A few weeks ago while vacationing at home, I attended a game day party at “Not-so-Starving Artist’s” (NsSA) house. While we’ve met in passing a few times before, our conversations had always been superficial  super official. NsSA effortlessly oozes this sort of magnetic energy that just makes you want to be around him. He is the perfect blend of odd … artsy … and unclassically handsome with a pinch of sarcasm. He’s the quirky, artistic utterly intriguing type ~ a la a male Ally Sheedy circa “The Breakfast Club” meets Frasier Crane meets Warhol. I don’t want to over sell it, BUT in short he is a brilliant artist and mind. And I find him to be completely irresistible.  Insatiable and lovely in every way. And I’m smitten with him. Absolutely …. unrepentantly … smitten. There, I said it. Today is a great day for writing under a pseudonym!! But I digress …

As fate would have it,  that night we not only exchanged pleasantries we exchanged numbers. Which came in handy sooner than later as I purposely mistakenly left my scarf behind at his studio. Marking 097 – The Art of Securing a Follow-Up Encounter.

The bad news —  I was slated to return to the Lonestar State the following day.

The good news — I’d be back in four short weeks for the Christmas holiday.

The moment I touched down in the city I couldn’t wait to hang out with him. We have a tradition in my family that everyone gets to open one gift before Christmas — stay with me here, I swear I’m going somewhere with this … I hope. I’ve always loved that tradition, and I suppose I thought of him that way. Not so much that I wanted to open him up — but the anticipation of seeing  what’s inside of the box you’ve been shaking for the past two weeks.

We met at a local watering hole and chatted one another up over a game of pool and several Stolis on the rock. I’m dreadfully inexperienced at pool, and yet somehow I managed to win. Twice. Still haven’t figured that one out :/ Despite unintentionally ending up on the set of an After School Special complete with an ensemble cast of my drunk  colorful  friends and acquaintances; I enjoyed getting to know him.

The next 72 hours were a blur. There was 5 am scrabble – butterfly kisses — socks — tainted love — scorching hot tea — dirty talk in en francais — nasal spray — real kisses — romeo — juliet — laughing — french onion soup — or lack there of — more laughing — cats in the cradle — singing — salads  — more singing — tears of joys — just tears — sharing — caring — charlie and the chocolate factory — legit stache kits, for serious conversations (you had to be there) — entertaining voicemails — private dancing — dancing for $ — black tar herion addicted scarves — we just don’t care make out sessions — cookie cake — impossibly long scarfs (yes, they do exist) and even a pseudo celebrity sighting #truestory. Fireworks.

Our actions ran the gamut. I’m not really sure when or exactly how it happened, but somewhere between here and there I felt a shift within myself.  Not – so -Starving Artist made me rethink everything I thought I knew about myself … about my current state  … about everything.

Whoooooosh — He was a breath of fresh air and I was completely “Summer Lovin'” circa Grease Lightening style blindsided. Who ordered the hot vacation tryst with a side of soooo-my type?? Definitely, not me. I don’t recall an impossible relationship being on the menu, especially in the city I deliberately just left. Out of the question. Ctrl>alt>delete.

Alas, as I sit here alone lost in my thoughts in the Lonestar State, a rather befitting interior for my mood I can’t help but wonder what if … What if? The possibilities are endless, but reality bites – hard. My pre-ejacu”like”tory feelings still in full bloom with no Not-so-Starving Artist in sight. Unfortunately.

There is a different kind of intimacy that comes from stepping outside of yourself. Or more importantly your safe place. A sort of mental orgy that envelops you to your very core and wraps you in everything that is good and wonderful and intoxicating. That is what I experienced with NsSA. And the best part — we did it fully clothed. It was the best non-sex,  sex I never had. So much so that every time I think of him, my heart smiles as I remember the safe word is origami … TBC.

The.Pretty.One.

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About The.Pretty.One

"I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it.” - Carry Bradshaw The Pretty One is the youngest daughter of a former 70s pageant queen and her first husband, a wealthy financier. A former debutante and southern belle, this Steel Magnolia is anything but. A visionary, she is the owner and creative mind behind a successful boutique communications and event firm. But what I really want to do is dance ... and blog.
This entry was posted in Fate, Love, Notes To Self, random rants, Relationships, Safe Words, Sexy Time, Unchartered Territory. Bookmark the permalink.

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