This type of writing is out of character for me. I have written a poem of this sort a little while back but this is a look inside the animalistic part of my mind. The part of my mind that was awakened the night I met my wife for first time.
To be 100% clear, I treated her with respect the entire night. Aside from a slight brush during the night and the moment before I got out of her car, I didn’t touch her in any ways that could be considered inappropriate.
Gentlemen, ALL women deserve 100% respect at all times, no questions. If you haven’t taken the time to get to know her well enough for her to express what she is comfortable with explicitly than I suggest you check your desires at the gate.
Respect… this what I was trying to show when I reached my hand out to shake hers as she got up from the barstool.
I first saw her while browsing the #OkCupid dating site. If I remember correctly I browsed her page a couple times before I went back and started answering the questions they used to help determine if you’re a match.
I also think I answered her questions a couple different times before I messaged her. There was something about her that I kept coming back to.
She dressed well. Even in her baseball gear she had an aura of beauty and modesty. She wasn’t a slutty baseball fan girl. No, she was a fun loving, die hard, home team cheering, Woman.
Her smile was contagious, even in a photo you couldn’t help but smile back. Her body language showed that she wore her brown skin confidently. It was her suit of armor but it was also the softest and most sensitive part of her.
She greeted me with that smile I had seen in the photos, it was warm and genuine but it wasn’t 100% her, maybe 40% of her. When I reached out my hand to shake hers she cringed with embarrassment. She hid it but I think I saw another 5% of her.
We sat down at the perfect table, she was facing the window behind me. Jesus himself could have been doing the dougie behind her I wouldn’t have noticed. Between her eyes, her smile, and her neck line there wasn’t anything else I wanted to look at.
By the time the waitress came back for the fourth time to try and take our order I had caught another glimpse of her. It was a smile again but different. He eyes had softened and she showed less of her perfect smile. I had witnessed a piece of her that I suspect only a very people are lucky enough to see. I thought I detected a little blushing but what was very clear was that I was making a impression.
She wasn’t thinking about anything or anyone else either. My confidence went through the roof. Had it not been for the realness and ease of our conversation or the fact that I knew that she wasn’t the type of woman who would be impressed by ego I might have done something stupid.
We ordered and ate. It all went WAY to fast. I wasn’t ready to leave her yet, I needed more. I needed more of her smile and her laugh. I needed to get closer so I could smell her perfume again. I needed to stare at her neck line more. I needed to spend more time with her.
I suggested we walk next door to play pool for a bit which she, thankfully, agreed to. On the walk I finally got a glimpse of her shape. Jesus could have added Justin Timberlake to his group and they could have been doing the Butterfly and my eyes wouldn’t have been distracted. She had the shape of an hour glass if that hour glass had been shaped by Da Vinci’s hand from what he had seen in my head.
The wine we had been sipping at the restaurant was replaced by vodka and bourbon. When she bent over the table to take a shot I made sure to stay on the opposite side of the table. I didn’t figure there was anyway I could be standing behind her and not imagine what it would be like if she was mine. I know my mind would have raced and jumped directly to the point in our relationship when I would be allowed to wrap my hands around her waist.
When she finished her shot I would walk whatever path around the table that took me past her. She smelled so fucking good.
When I took my shot I looked up at her. I imagined I was looking up at her from across our bed. A bed we hadn’t shared nor were there any plans to yet. It didn’t matter to my imagination, it could see it all. Her brown skin glowing in the moonlight through my blinds. Her hips, her side, her chest, and that neck line. In my mind I had already kissed it 3 times. In my mind I had wrapped my arms around her waist and felt her breath on my cheek.
As a drink turned into three our hands touched while we were exchange the pool stick. After calming my over-active mind by splashing some water on my face in the bathroom, it was jolted back to life. I could feel her hand on the back of my head. It was a soft but firm grip. The type of grip that tells you you’re doing something right. We were at her place, I imagined it was just like her. Modest but there was something hiding in there that I needed to uncover.
Time was not on my side. I knew the night was going to end and I didn’t want to force it but I couldn’t let go. In my mind it was the next morning and her head was on my chest. The reality was that I had to pay the bill. The reality was that I was out of time to spend with her.
I walked her to her car and she offered to drive me to mine and let me wait in her car while mine warmed up. I imagined telling her that my car was to the right but she took a left towards her apartment instead. I wouldn’t ask where she was going, we both would have known where this was going.
We pulled into the spot next to my Jeep. I started it and got back in her car so fast that I neglected to put the heat on. I didn’t care. We sat there in her car and as it went from frigid to warm my slight buzz from the bourbon resided but I was still buzzing from her presence. She had appreciated how polite and respectful I had been. Despite my imagination being at some other place and time all night, I had been 100% with her. Taking her in. Cherishing her thoughts and hanging on her words.
Now though, I knew I had to be bold. I had to do something out of character. I had to show her that I was more than a fun night of pool. I leaned in like Hitch taught me. I go 90% and hope she comes the other 10%. In the second before she leaned in to meet me all of my secret thoughts from the night rushed to the surface, my lips were on fire and my face flushed. When her lips touched mine I hoped that she felt my energy. I hoped the heat that my face was radiating had reached her and that she could feel the passion I had for her.
Before I got out of the car I let my mind drift one more time while I was still able to smell her. That night had been our 1 year anniversary and after sharing that kiss we went home and made love. We made true love because we were in love. The type of sex that they tell you isn’t real. Slow and steady, familiar but exciting, physically satisfying and soul shaking.
I got into my car and found the Eminem song that had been playing in her car. It was on repeat the rest of the weak.