Bare

This post is probably the most personal one I’ve ever written. I really would prefer no one comment on it.

It’s been a long time since I was intimate with anyone- you guys know that. The last person was Tall Boy and that was 2 years ago. We really weren’t ‘intimate’ in the conventional sense. No bodily fluids were exchanged- we didn’t even kiss (unless you count me, kissing his neck).

The intimacy I speak of was Tall Boy standing at the open door while I showered, watching me as if I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And later falling asleep wrapped around me, though I was wrapped in a towel and there were sheets between us. Somehow he sensed my need to just be held.

That night was perfect in its own way, until it wasn’t. Everything that followed- his behavior the following day and every interaction since, rendered that evening moot. He’s been a jackass ever since. Cold, sarcastic, downright cruel on one occasion. There were two exceptions when he complimented me- almost as if they slipped out without him thinking. But then he reverted to his usual self: abrasive, almost as though he was disgusted by my presence.

He made it clear he wanted nothing to do with me, so I steered clear, to the point that I withdrew from an activity that he would be attending which I had signed up for months in advance. I had been looking forward to the event for many reasons, but the overwhelming fear of dread at his treatment of me precluded all of them.

None of this really matters, except to make the following point:

The last man I was intimate with, regrets ever knowing me.

If I died tomorrow, the last moment of intimacy I had with a man, will have been with a person who can’t stand the sight of me. Someone I have zero respect for.

Worse yet, it was with someone I KNOW could have given me the experience I have been waiting for, had he not been married.

Why am I thinking about this now? Because in April, in Colorado, Tall Boy died. He stopped breathing and had to be resuscitated twice. Luckily, he was and is now ok. But it gave me pause.

That first night, he mentioned that he wondered what his name would sound like in another woman’s voice. I assume that his wife might be the only woman he’s really been with and perhaps he longs to know what it would be like to be with another woman. Now that he has literally had a brush with death, I wonder if he regrets not having taken the opportunity.

But it really made me wonder what would happen if I were the one who were suddenly incapacitated and the chance to ever be intimate again were taken from me for some reason.

The fact is, I am in the throes of menopause. My body is changing, drying up from the inside out. I don’t even know if I COULD have a successful intimate encounter, by which I mean, I don’t know if a spontaneous moment would even make sense. I know that I’m scared and worried that I’d burst out crying. For some reason, that surge of hormones leads me to bursts of emotion. Can you imagine? After the release of a much-needed orgasm, I started bawling like a baby?

Buzzkill.

THAT GUY would understand. He’d be a good one to work through the kinks with, but it’s just not…right. I can’t.

So here I lay, in my bed. Wanting something I could probably have, but being too scared to get it.

Again, please don’t comment. I just needed to get this off my chest.