Aria Scarlette, 17 Sept 2019
I live in the land of Prince, and this connection was my first outside of my marriage ever. We met once in an airport, we met once at a brewery, we met once at a hotel, and we met once months later in a park. He went from “Sexy Mother Fucker” to nothing, and I know exactly how it happened.
Sexy Mother Fucker – Prince
We need to talk about things, tell me what cha do
Tell me whatcha eat, I might cook for you
See it really don’t matter ’cause it’s all about me and you
Ain’t no one else around
I’m even with the blindfold, gagged and bound
I don’t mind, see this ain’t about sex
It’s all about love being in charge of this life and the next
Why all the cosmic talk?
I just want you smarter than I’ll ever be
When we take that walk
You seem perplexed I haven’t taken you yet
Can’t you see I’m harder than a man can get
I got wet dreams comin’ out of my ears
I get hard if the wind blows your cologne near me
But I can take it, ’cause I want the whole nine
This ain’t about the body, it’s about the mind
“What do you seek?” I ask.
“Friend, confidante, uninhibited lover,” he answers.
Feverish chat, filled with loads of intimate questions, and my goodness, so many pictures. I joked that I let my camera crew go for the night, so he should please excuse the awkward nature of photographing my own ass. All joking aside, I marveled at both the photos and the oddness of sending them to a person I hadn’t yet met.
This man embodied a list of firsts for me: the first man to whom I sent an illicit pic, the first man to whom I gifted a pair of panties soiled in my own wetness, and the first man outside of my marriage with whom I had sex. I didn’t adore him in the slightest, but I allowed him to set me on fire physically. I was testing a theory: Can I just have sex with someone? The conclusion: No, I need to feel ongoing connection. When the communication shuts off, so does the pussy faucet.
He was beautiful but very quiet. The few words he used were so very effective. He made me feel beautiful, sexy, smart, and like the very thought of me made him hard. While he said he wanted a friend, a confidante, and an uninhibited lover, he didn’t know how to share of himself in a way that worked for me. He would answer any question I asked, but I had to ask. The extraction of information made me feel needy rather than the recipient of a gift. When he was busy, he was a ghost. When he was horny, “Hey, sexy. WYD?” There is nothing on this planet that makes me feel trashier than a man’s singular desire for what I can do for him. He didn’t like condoms. I gave zero fux about that. In this arena, you wrap that shit up. I won’t be made to feel guilty about wanting to keep myself healthy over another person’s desire for bareback action. MAYBE after time and trust, we discuss something different. MAYBE or MAYBE NOT.
We started out heavy, interested, in balance and busy threw me down the list of things to do in a day. He moved. His job made him travel. His interest in me likely faded though he never said so. After our last meeting, I thought that we might meet more frequently as it seemed circumstances had changed. Move was complete, work was breathing, and it seemed we could have fun together, but the communication didn’t change.
One day after several weeks of no words, he summoned with the familiar, “Hey, sexy. WYD.” And I responded with what was in my heart. I am not booty call. I signed up for friend, confidante, and uninhibited lover. I am not the affair you are seeking. Peace on your journey.
And I shut the door. I shut the door on funny car dance videos to “Sexy Mother Fucker”, future grabby under the table brewery visits, smooth slightly southern accent, beautiful lips and clear open smile, totally mischievous eyes, and truly unsatisfying communication. He taught me that people don’t know what they want – or feel like they shouldn’t want what they want so they lie to themselves and others. He would have paired well with many by saying that he wants an occasional encounter of very physical intensity. He treated me well, and he was a skilled sex partner. He kept drama out of it, and was fun to hang around. I would sit at a brewery with him any day of the week even still.
He was shy, and I didn’t want to do more work. I needed to be gifted his intimacy, and he preferred to remain inside himself where he was safe. From him, I learned to stop asking so many questions, and follow the partners who wanted me to know them deeply.