Sometimes I feel like I have power over half of the men on Earth, the power that comes from knowing they want me. The look, they chat me up, they let their eyes wander a little below my chin when I talk to them. I have something they want. And I have to be very responsible which of them I give it to.
Because I want it too. That's no secret to you, readers. I have a pretty damn healthy sexual appetite, and I've been starving myself for months -- almost a year! -- because I don't like the idea of having sex with someone I don't totally love. The last time I did that, with my first partner Leo, I felt pretty bad about it.
It's just that, if I hold out for someone who can be my everything, I might be waiting a long time, I might drive myself nuts with desperation, I might cling to them. I totally get why one-night stands are an option. They're just not one I feel good about.
Nameless Boy -- as he shall be called to protect him from embarrassment -- is a special case. He's told me that he likes me, that he's been carrying a torch for a while, unbeknownst to me, and that it was only at my farewell party that he got the nerve. I didn't see anything in him but an opportunity for some escape, some fun, some distraction. He was my attempt at a one-night stand. If I'd known he was a virgin, I might have slowed down a little, but we've all got to start somewhere.
I like him fine. As in, I can put up with him. I don't mind hanging out with him. I'm really not sure how I feel beyond that. I've been spoiled a little bit, with Buddy and Alex, but my memory of both of them is tainted somewhat, too. If I want to get laid, he would be my best option, although for obvious reasons I have not told him this. We've talked a bit, and I've played it a bit close to the chest as to whether I would see him again.
I just don't have the heart to reject him, the way I would reject some bozo in a club. Like, those guys take it on the chin, they don't know you, you're just a piece of ass to them. This guy knows me. He thinks about me. There are worse situations to be in, and I think of all the times when I was him, when I wished I could dance with the hot girl. Maybe he deserves a reward. Ugh, how egotistical-slash-shallow of me to think of myself that way. But it's a reward for me, too, because I like the attention.
I just spent twenty minutes staring at a blinking cursor trying to decide what to say, what to do... and I just finally decided to text him: Hey... feel like getting a drink?