Once, twice, three times a lady…

I like to think that life is all about balance. For example tonight is for me to be sitting in bed with a top knot, in a singlet and undies, listening to Simon & Garfunkle and maybe some sexy Mac Miller beats, either completing old Samurai Sudoku’s that I have saved or reading, with my kitty kat snuggled up beside me. It’s quiet and perfect for me to savour the silence of the night with my loud thoughts.

Flashback to last week when I had said that to my friend that he had to find a job, our midweek rendezvous were taking a toll on me, getting far too wasted, far too often. But those nights are special and make me appreciate these nights of silence and reflection.

Late last year, I hooked up with a dude that was previously married. I knew him when he was married, I knew his wife. He was separated and we always enjoyed each other’s company when we would run into each other. I was surprised when I saw him on Tinder. I knew that he wasn’t stupid enough to be married and on there, so things must have ended. When we matched he was straight to it, they had recently separated and things were hard but they were all okay and it was for the best. I was hesitant to say the least but he was charming and funny. More to the point when you already know someone that makes things so much easier.

We spoke over a couple of weeks. He would call me and we would chat, but the majority of the time was texts which he declared that he wasn’t any good at. One night he got me on the phone and said that we was going to come and get me. We would have a few drinks and catch up. I wasn’t sure about this and declined. The next night he worked his magic and he was coming to get me. I spent hours getting ready but the pressure was off as we already knew each other and had some sort of attraction. I was nervous going to their married house. I cringe at the thought. I was actually shitting myself. I wasn’t doing anything wrong but I felt weird about it. I had voiced my concerns and he had shut them down, one by one. This guy was good.

We got in the groove with each other. He was extremely polite and such an amazing host. What was he going to cook me for dinner? Cheese board, amazing wine, intense eye contact as we discussed our lives in detail. If you have previously read this blog before, you will know that my nerves, plus alcohol isn’t my friend. I was extremely excited because we were hitting it off so well and the conversation was electric.Other than the fact there were photos everywhere of her family. I tried to ignore it, but it was mentally noted, for the conversation that would happen with my friend later. He mentioned something about partying, so next thing I knew we were raking up lines at 10.30pm on a Tuesday night. The night was getting loose and I was all for it. He passionately kissed me, between each of us rubbing the residue into our gums. It was hot. He was hot and full of passion. We went from the couch to the family room floor to finally a bedroom. I insisted that we go into the spare room because I couldn’t face, the previous marital bed. By now the drugs and wine were working their magic and I was feeling my sexy self. The sex was incredible. He was confident, funny, seductive and all of these traits were present in the bedroom. After the extreme sports were performed, I wasn’t feeling so good and you guessed it…vomited errywhere. All over the doona cover, all over the walls. He put me in the shower and then put my clothes in the wash, while he got cleaning. He was lovely about it. He said “Of course it would happen and he had often felt like that.” Total gentleman, could not fault this dude. He consoled me over and over again. It was fine. I was dying of embarrassment in the shower but was still pissed and railed so I thought that I could actually pull this off. As I now had no clothes, I walked around in a mink blanket, which I thought was pretty sexy. Turns out the pic that I had sent my girlfriend after I had explained the incident was less sexy than I had first thought, I looked like a hillbilly. I called her, explaining the eyes that I felt on me from the wife’s family, they were following me. So the next few hours consisted of, cleaning, washing, more lines and surprisingly more sex. We couldn’t get enough of each other, even though I think I could still smell vomit in my hair, which while gross, it turns out that I can still complete the task at hand, many times may I add.

I left at 5am. He wanted me to stay but I couldn’t face peak hour in an Uber. This guy was my personal hero, as he still was going to go to work after our scattered night. I silently died in the Uber, I wanted my shower, my bed and my cat not to judge me, for not being able to handle my liquor, yet again.