Part I - The Ecstasy
"Sex in its true and finest meaning, seems to be the way in which is manifested all that is highest, best and beautiful in the nature of human beings." Harriet Taylor Mill, 1832
1. My Flower Blossoms
Flowers! I love them! I have large perennial flower gardens, with different flowers blooming from April to November. They present an ever-changing, dynamic variety of pink, white, yellow, blue, purple blooms, tall and low plants, big and small flowers. Every spring, with attention, care and nurturing, I liberate them from their subterranean dormancy to burst out in exciting, but too brief beauty.
Dan was my "gardener", the one who liberated my sexuality, from its dormancy to full bloom. I am eternally grateful to him for that. He opened my eyes to the wide world of sex, the catalyst that roiled the sexual energy suppressed inside me, the sexual power I never knew I had. How can you ever reward that gift? Especially now that I have outgrown him, or perhaps merely that his bloom has faded, he's no longer an exciting adventure. He wants to see me, meet for sex, even as a mere audience to my continuing... but I am getting ahead of myself.
Dan was, is, a really rather unremarkably ordinary man, for the most part. We were colleagues thirty years ago, in a large company. We interacted occasionally on a legal matter. He was, is, about ten years younger than I am. He struck me then as a boy scout type, clean cut, family man, gentle, composed, not tall, a little wide around the middle, nothing romantic or sexual between us, at least from my side. We were both married for one, but maybe I was not sending out any "come hither" signals. I left the company, he later went on to other career pastures, too. We would intersect once in a while at a conference, meet every year or two for drinks and dinner to catch up as nice ex-colleagues often do, partly professional networking, partly friendliness.
It was over four years ago now that we met for our fateful dinner at the LongHorn Steakhouse. We chit chatted about jobs, family, vacations, the usual, hugged goodbye until next time, a year or so down the road. Or so I thought. The next morning I see a text from him, "We should get together." My first reaction, "Is this an old text, just popping up?" After all, we just got together. Nope, it's fresh. Oh. oh. Oh! He wants to "date" me! A difference, I realize, is I am single now. But he's not, he's still married. I do not want to break up a marriage. On the other hand, I haven't had sex in years, my marriage had unraveled and I'm working to get my single life together. It's a great way to get back in the game - no online dating, no blind date, no bar pick-up, no hook-up. I know him, he's nice. It's safe. He's safe! But I've never thought of him in that way. How would I feel naked in bed with him? Would kissing him be like kissing my brother? And what about his marriage?
So many questions, unknowns, uncertainties. Well, only one way to find out. So we meet for a beach date. It's a glorious summer day, the sky blue, the sea breeze delightfully refreshing. We sit under an umbrella for hours and talk, I in my bikini, he in his swim trunks. I see his chest and belly for the first time. Not a six pack, for sure. In fact, he has a paunch. Oh well, no one is perfect. But I want this to be perfect, I want to be with a man I find incredibly attractive. But we know each other, somewhat, so the conversation flows smoothly. We talk about his situation, his marriage, dating after separation, even emotional intimacy, And of course about the potential for physical intimacy. He compliments me on my looks, my body, my personality. He's grooming me, I know that, but I love the compliments anyway.
Turns out, long story short, is that he's the wounded party in his marriage. Thirty years ago, when they had one toddler, his wife ran into her ex-fiancé, started an affair, a secret affair for months, told Dan about it and told him that it was over. Ok, not ok, but it's over. Well, no, because years later she tells him she ran into the ex-fiancé again, restarted the affair but this time she's says she's going to leave him for this ex-fiancé. Except that the ex-fiancé was not on the same page, or got cold feet, so it never happened. He's been second fiddle for a long time, with several affairs since - who knew Boy Scout Dan wasn't such a boy scout - so I'm not going to be breaking up his marriage. One box checked!
On to Box #2, how will I feel naked with him? Will kissing him be like kissing my brother? So I lean in for a kiss, "Let's see how this goes." Not a peck, but a nice, long, substantial kiss. Now, I haven't dated since my marriage unraveled, haven't kissed anyone, hadn't kissed anyone except my (now) ex since before I was married, at the tender age of 24. In almost fifty years! "How did I do?" he asks. He clearly wants to know how good a kisser he is. But that wasn't my test; my test was, "Can I do this? With him?" No fireworks or electricity, but sweet enough, lovely enough, delicious enough. I liked it! I missed it! "That was great." Okay, a bit of an exaggeration, some ego-boosting on my part, but indeed, it was great that I felt alive! I can do this! With him! Box #2 checked. All systems go?
Except for one little thing. Well, not so little. "You've gained a little weight?" I ask.
"Yes, on vacation. I don't like it, I want to lose it. I've started an exercise routine."
"How much do you want to lose?"
"20 pounds."
"That's great. It's not healthy to carry around extra weight."
"You don't like the way I look?"
"Truthfully? I do find a flat stomach more attractive." I put this as nicely as I can.
A pause.
"I want to set up a date," He offers, smiling broadly.
"How do you feel about getting together after you lose those 20 pounds?"
"Ok. I'll do that for you."
Okay, all systems go!
My emotions are running wild! I feel at once (a) glad that we had the day alone together to talk, connect and explore; (b) happy, relieved and satisfied that I feel I can do this with him; (c) validated as a post-separation, single, sexy, attractive, desired woman; (d) sweet and supported by the developing emotional intimacy; (e) soothed and warmed from the (brief) physical connecting of our kisses; (f) excited about the prospect of deeper connection and intimacy, both emotional and of course physical; (g) giddy over the anticipation; (h) anxious that the great anticipation will lead to disappointment; (i) apprehensive that I will be too nervous or perform poorly or chicken out; (j) concerned about his health because of his extra weight; (k) guilty that I mentioned his weight but (k) proud of myself for being open and honest with him about my likes and dislikes; (l) flattered that he is willing to lose 20 pounds for me; and (m) so disappointed that his paunch is getting in the way or maybe that I'm being physically superficial.
We chat, mostly by text. He has joined a weight loss program, is keeping to his exercises and loses five pounds in the first week. "You are so worth the effort," he says. We are on our way! The second week he loses 3 pounds. The next it's 2. Halfway there, but it's getting slow. He is concerned he'll never make it to 20. "You know there's no magic in 20 pounds," he offers. "Yes, that was your goal and I think it's a good one." Now come some excuses. "My body is just shaped the way it is." "My father had the same body type." "I work out and it's all muscle." What should I do? He is working at it, hard. Maybe he can't get to 20. It could take months. Am I being too superficial? Too stubborn? Too selfish? And I am getting impatient too. Do I really need to wait? Just because I set up this hurdle?
So we make a date. He'll get a hotel room for our rendezvous. We plan the music. He likes Rodrigo's Concerto de Aranjuez. I know it from Miles Davis' jazz version, on "Sketches of Spain". I like Beethoven's 7th symphony. We both like adagios, slow and sensual. I am pumped! He is into stockings and garters and heels (Boy Scout Dan?) so he texts me a link to a black lace bodice with garters, to go with my sheer black stockings and black heels. I buy it online, eagerly await the promised two-day delivery. He says he will get the room, set it up with wine and candles (and flowers it turns out), then leave so I can arrive and get myself ready - in my lingerie and a black trench coat and greet him at the door. He has an entire scenario! Fun! But, for various logistical reasons, it's several weeks away.
I feel so hopeful, eager to see him, eager to have sex with him. I have become very fond of him. I am so excited. I miss him, miss our texting. I want to please him, make love to him, give myself to him. BUT I also feel so disappointed and confused. He's on a 3-day business trip to Arizona. Why hadn't he called or texted? He told me he probably would be out of pocket until Friday; but still, he surely could find a moment to text me to say he's thinking of me. Is he playing with me? Is he trying to send a message to be distant? Is he thinking of me? Or is he not? Is he trying to avoid thinking of me because, as he said, I am "seductive and addictive, in a good way." Does he have another woman in AZ? It puts me in turmoil, creates doubts, deflates my enthusiasm.
