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26 August 2006

 

III. The Dangling Conversation

Friendships like ours are funny.

We’ve known each other for 18 years, more or less, and I can’t tell you his middle name. He scowls. He is cranky more often than not. He disappears for months and doesn’t explain why when he returns.

Not that I require much in the way of explanation.

We don’t talk about our feelings.

He’s said he feels sexually proprietary toward me. I’ve said that is a problem. He knows it is.

We check in on mundane things: Work, health, travel.

Occasionally we’ll talk about sex.

He regularly annoys me.

But then he is a sympathetic and realistic voice when I need to talk about my divorce or my children (usually both, actually).

Late one night I was awake, upset by something my former husband Daniel had done or said. We chatted and, because I was clearly upset he called me. He called Daniel a douchebag and that made me laugh, because I hadn’t heard that word in forever.

And aside from that one conversation a couple years ago when he told me I’d hurt him by sleeping with his roommate in college, we have never discussed anything close to a topic of “us.”

He’s known me over half my life. I like having that connecting thread.

A few days ago he phoned. He’s been working on a new project which is very exciting and he was in a talkative mood.

Me: So I wanted to just say, again, that it really was fun seeing you this summer.

Him: Indeed. What was the most fun?

Me: Besides the coming? I guess the familiarity and comfort I felt. We were cool, and it was nice to not have any performance anxiety.

Him: It felt safe.

Me: Yeah.

Him: Question:

Me: Yess?

Him: Do you do Kegel exercises?

Me: Why do you ask?

Him: Curious.

I thought about it for a second. I don’t schedule Kegel sessions on my calendar, but I do some serious pussy clenching during sex and masturbation. Hmmm…

Me: Every day.

Him: Because—(truth?)

Me: Truth.

Him: I was preparing myself for a blown-out pussy.

Me: MINE?! What? From babies?!

Him: It happens.

Me: Not to me, it doesn’t.

Him: Yours was anything but. How do you ever get fisted?

Me: Oh, you know, it stretches. Just takes a little time. But, um, thanks for the compliments; first my ‘little girl nipples’ and now this. I feel a rush of blood to my cheeks. By the way, what did you enjoy the most?

Him: Fucking you. And the blowjob. That was nice.

Me: Uh-huh!

Him: Why do you like that so much?

Me: I like the effect cocksucking has: Seeing and hearing the way your body responds, knowing it’s because of what I’m doing. It’s hot.

Him: Indeed...

I don’t ask him when he’s coming to town again.

He doesn’t ask me to come to the west coast.

There’s always a hesitation, a holding back, like we know better than to talk about those things. It's much easier to keep it superficial.

I think maybe he reads this blog.

I wonder if he does, in fact.

I’m not sure I want to know, so I don’t bring it up. I probably won’t.

I don’t think he will, either.


5 Comments:

Blogger Meg said...

like a poem poorly written
we are verses out of rhythm,
couplets out of rhyme
in syncopated time.

8/27/2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Thank you for writing. You pull me out of the Deep Green Sea of my imagination.

8/28/2006  
Anonymous sex2video.com said...

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9/02/2006  
Blogger Deep Lust said...

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9/04/2006  
Blogger Camilla said...

I had a fuck buddy for about one year, and I thought the telephone conversations were even better than the sex. To have him ask me a series of yes-no questions at work. Incredible!

9/06/2006  

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