Dear Mr. Kinesthetic Genius,
Whenever I hear somebody say you can tell what somebody’s like in bed by watching them dance, I think of you. Yet the first time I saw you, you weren’t dancing. You were teaching boys how to do summersaults on the beach. You made it look effortless; take a few steps, jump, float for a bit as you circle around yourself and land on your feet again. Smiling. Without breaking a sweat.
The second time I saw you, you boldly introduced yourself by kissing me directly on the lips. Continue reading
Dear Mr. Intimacy Issue,
I am not opposed to casual sex or (anonymous) one-night-stands. I do have one rule though: as long as the sexual encounter lasts, you are mine, and I’ll be yours. I expect you to be present. I expect a certain intimacy, whether tender or raw. This doesn’t mean I want to exclude power dynamics, or humiliation if desired and consensual. This doesn’t mean I want promises for a future. Don’t want to ever see me again afterwards? Fine. But even so, in the moment: be present, be intimate and be mine.
So let me explain to you what lack of intimacy looks like: Continue reading
Dear Mister Engaged,
Let’s just blame it on the tequila. Because we as two adults should have been a lot more responsible. And you, ten years my senior, should definitely have been more responsible.
I understand that you were lonely; on a job here, by yourself, no friends. That is why I gave in to our mutual friend’s request to have a drink with you. And the first time we met, when I asked you about your fiancée, it wasn’t just out of interest. It was also to clear the flirtatious energy building between us. And those first few meetings we did a pretty good job, as we platonically greeted one another, and always went our separate ways.
Oh, but that wretched tequila… Continue reading