This "first time" story still gives me the chills.
If you've read any of my previous works, you know I spent 18 years in an ultimately failed marriage that ended in divorce about four years ago. The years that followed were not exactly as easy as getting back on a bike. Everything is digital now, including the dating scene, which isn't exactly how I look for real organic connection. And then of course there was the sheer force of habit of doing things the way I had always done them, which didn't exactly blast "single woman," or "available." I would go to some bars with friends or coworkers, but never really to meet someone new. Then when covid swung a wrecking ball into all of our lives, the hope that I might meet a nice, normal, adventurous, smart, fun and single man who just happened to be in his late 40s or early 50s seemed to evaporate, if it ever existed at all.
That sucked. The last few years of my marriage didn't exactly resemble a close, intimate relationship, and I was so past beyond needing to feel closeness, and wanted again. I wanted to feel the vulnerability of a new relationship and rekindle all those things I knew, but had forgotten, about myself. I wanted to be needed. As a woman, as a sexual person, as someone worthwhile and valid. I wanted all of that, and was so frustrated that the state of the world was denying my needs.
I had a few close friends who helped me through those darker times, as well as my sister and a couple of close cousins. But I also didn't want to feel like I was anyone's "project" or charity case. So I'd let them take me out, or cheer me up, but I never really took the bait on fix-ups, or friend-of-a-friend chance meetings, or anything like that. More often than not, I'd ditch most of whatever comprised my "posse" (do we still use that word?) to end up on summer weekends alone with my friend Alyssa, oftentimes on her boat.
I loved visiting the marina, and having a friend with a boat. I hate that that sounds like I am a leach, but that isn't the case at all. I just love the smell of the marina, the short drive to the docks, how different it felt than happy hour at this joint or that, and there were never any crowds or playa operators to deal with, or other friends I had to shine on a happy face for. It was like my little naval escape from the world.
I also loved hanging out with Alyssa, who was always one of my favorite people. We had worked together many years ago at the same high school, but she retired quite early when her dad passed away and she came into a considerable amount of money. I never asked how much she inherited, but she was surely not one of those snobby yacht club string-of-pearls freak shows you see sipping their overpriced martinis trying desperately to be seen by everyone. She still dresses the same (cargo shorts or jeans, t-shirts or hoodies), talks the same, acts the same. And I loved that, because even with no frills, Alyssa always seemed to have a magical radiant sparkle.
She laughed a lot, and easily, and was sweet with her own jokes. She did cute accents and characters when she told stories, and had always been one of my most considerate friends. After a few wines, she would always make me blush sharing an intimate story from some of her exploits, told with lusty vigor. I looked up to her, she was so daring and unafraid and sure of herself. She wasn't what anyone might call "supermodel" beautiful, but at 5' nothing, lightly freckled and perfectly curvy, she just exuded natural beauty and a thrilling sense of wild abandon. I adored her, and as I got to know her better and better during lockdowns, I admit I started to feel a real kinship, and a strong attraction, as well.
I always laugh when someone asks me if I am, or was, "bisexual." I mean, it's a label I've never really been comfy with. My personal theory is that all humans are at least partially bisexual, since I feel like connecting to an individual is so much more important than societal sexual norms. And I know way more women--attractive ones, too--than men. I had to face facts. Starting a "dating" relationship with another man just felt completely daunting to me. It's not like when you were 19 and single and were looking for someone to connect with and plan a life and a future together. Already in my 40s, divorced, with a kid, a job that pretty much prohibited me from moving around the country, I didn't exactly feel like a "catch." And I worried that any guy who would want me at this stage of my life would have something wrong with him. Fair? Probably not. But when you go through a divorce as contested as mine was, you don't exactly come out the other end unscathed.
