Her scent was of fresh linens reminding me of Monday mornings during summer when I would pass by a nearby house and just watch the washed clothes hang dry under the sun. She had the consistent smell all over her body – from the strands of her unapologetic curly hair to what she calls her “center of existence.”
I was, for very apparent reasons, longing for something for the past few days. Certain urges are highly controllable. There were the movies someone helped me download so I could have a marathon on weekends. There was my list of albums to search and music videos to see. At the same time, I have three new books I bought in less than a month and have not yet read. There were so many things to do, and I chose to use an avenue where most people would think you would only use to display desperation – Craigslist.
“There is that aching feeling in my tummy I can’t explain.
I touch my lips to remember the feeling of someone’s lips touching mine. I rub my nape at the thought of those memories when I shake involuntarily whenever the cold wind blows and someone is right beside me whispering something to my ears.
I am not proposing a romantic relationship neither something that is carnal. I have experienced such, but they never worked for me.
I’ve been controlling my urges as giving into them never brought the best decisions. All I want is a person/s who I can have tea / beer with whenever the need to talk to someone arises.”
I could not recall what her response was, but I can only remember how it made me feel. Excited. Smart. That was my only impression of her when we were exchanging emails and SMS.
Her physical presence gave the promise of satisfying that urge, but I tried to convince myself I am done with it. What I was feeling could just be hormonal. Then I remembered her message from the previous night about just doing things for pleasure – and as humans we have an unending need to seek for what is pleasurable. It was downright hedonistic, for the lack of better and more appropriate words.
I stalled. After having beer I invited her to the Black List Party in Diamond Hotel with the hope of not giving in and just having fun in a party full of raging hormones. People were there – those who I expected to see, those who I was surprised to see and those I thought never existed until I saw them . We were having a private conversation and she threw the question: “Do you wanna check-in?”
I pretended I did not hear her, but in less than an hour we found ourselves in a moldy motel in Sta. Mesa. She turned the TV to the channel showing porn. I diluted my head with alcohol hoping that I get buzzed to bring my guards down, but it did not work at all.
She was assertive enough to tell me to take my clothes off, but thoughtful to make sure I was comfortable. She was fierce guiding my hand to explore her body knowing what pleasures her, but had the humor and wits to make us both laugh on how clueless in what I was doing.
“I don’t reach orgasm.”
“So let’s make this one count.”
“Great.”
“Just don’t fake it. I will know.”
“Okay.”
“What’s important is how much you’ll enjoy.”
She fell asleep. Probably she was tired. I stared aimlessly into the darkness of the room not knowing what hour it was. I thought “She is cruel giving me that night when I almost ‘had it’ – giving something that I will long for and want again. The problem with one night stands.” Then I felt her warm breathe against my nape and had frivolous amusement of the remaining moments. She is a rare combination of beauty, intelligence and cunning – the type one should gently walk away from if you cannot compartmentalize and detach emotions. But I would like to keep her around. My indifference would do me good now.
Cue: “Girls Like You” by The Naked and Famous from the album Passive Me, Aggressive You. It fits.
