You know when you just SHOULDN’T? When you’re faced with an outrageous temptation and that little voice in the back of your head says:
“Oh no. No, no, no. Absolutely NOT!”
Yet that voice is just quiet enough that you can ignore it?
That was my night last night. I have a few cardinal rules that I do not break. Or didn’t use to break. Fuck.
I was talking to a friend of mine last night and we were commiserating about the sad state of our respective love lives. Living in a small town leaves you with a limited amount of options and when you start eliminating some of them because of past relationships, etc… the pool shrinks to a very small puddle. This particular friend of mine is permanently friend zoned. Off limits.
Suffice it to say… things have changed.
I read a text from him and swallowed hard.
SH- And if I’m certain, I believe you haven’t said no…
I set my phone down, walked outside and prayed the cold air would knock some sense into me.
No luck. I was still tempted. Could it really be that easy? I’ve never really had a FWB. At this point in my life though, I do not want a boyfriend or anything that resembles it. I do however, want to get laid regularly. Sadly… the two are generally a package deal.
Or so I thought.
J- Are we seriously considering this?
SH- I’ll be there in 30.
Yes, we’re way past considering. It’s go time. I ran to the shower, jumped in and slid into the shelf. Yeouch. I shaved my left thigh too quickly and felt the hot sting of the shower on fresh razor burn. Fuck. What the fuck am I thinking? This is a cardinal sin. The kind you have to write to the Pope about.
But I do have those cute new purple panties… and no really good reason to leave them sitting in the drawer.
And then I wait. Heart pounding, cheeks flushed and my mind racing… until I hear his car pull in and his footsteps to my door. Gulp. I’m awkward. This could be awkward as fuck. Eeeeek. Damn Victoria’s Secret and these Jezebel panties.
Something fabulous happens when it’s just about need and not junked up with a bunch of expectation and feelings. Don’t get me wrong- I adore him, but this isn’t about that.
This has everything to do with satisfaction on demand. Like a glorified dick delivery service.
Thanks be to God… or really… my fabulous Solid Homie.