Wednesday, December 08, 2004

Akira II

What can I say? I did it the most unorthodox way. Geneva D. came on to him and he came on to me. A "staggard menage" so to speak because Geneva D. and I refused to touch each other, forcing him to be the luckiest go-between this side of Tulsa. The camcorder was turned off when we verged away from PG-13 modesty. I don't feel morally repugnant nor am I regretful and see no reason to repent. Yet, likewise, I haven't fully grasped the magnitude of this pretty irreverent event.

He cradled me with intimate affection; I was cocooned in his embrace all night. His face nestled in my hair, arm across my waist, and I in the crook of his neck; comfortably silent, thoughts unspoken. But upon my leave the morning after, I could only muster up a sigh and a kiss on his cheek. A bit distant and lacking a sense of responsibility, I left words grounded in painful courtesy.

Readerdroid was disappointed in me. So was J.Lass. The former called me a whore. The latter expected me to lose it while settled in a monogamous relationship of niceties. Though they both said I was old enough to make my own decisions, my decisions were still, in essence, wrong:

Readerdroid: "So if you want to go be a ho, go ahead and be a ho."

J.Lass: "I can't believe after holding out for so long, you gave it up this way."

I was choked by miles of passive/aggressiveness. Taboo encounters seem to rouse the moral superiority of every heathen and hypocrite. Another of their commonalities centered on my being used - whether he premeditated the evening's plans. I didn't think that warranted a simplistic answer seeing how we each exploited the other for personal thrills (though, admittedly, this mutuality is simply speculation). I might be a cynic, but I'm no idealist. When he suggested that I might feel more comfortable with someone I'm in love with, I simply asked 'Why?' It was not an act of desperation (as Readerdroid so kindly surmised), so much as an act of pure convenience.

The sex was okay. It wasn't anything unexpected. He made me feel secure, at least, momentarily. And that, to me, was worth it. Any way you slice it, the "purity" society strangely covets is but a state of mind that exists to fuel the desires of natural conquistadors. I saw the entire process in clinical terms and the experience was comparable to shopping for a pepper grinder or recycling on a particularly sunny day.

P.S. At least I discovered I'm neither a strict screamer nor moaner, but a cross between the two. Whereas "M" was greeted by a neighbour's forthcoming complaint, "S" had to be muffled by an excess of pillows.

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