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“Nice.” He finishes off his beer and puts the glass on the bar.
Okay. I already know that Tim isn’t going to be the love of my life, but that’s not why I’m here. It doesn’t matter that there’s no real connection between us, right? I just want what’s in his trousers. It’s not going to be the best sex I’ll ever have in my life. But it will be sex, and after this, at least I’ll know how it all works. It’s what people do all the time nowadays.
I have a couple of quick mouthfuls of my G&T, then say, “Do you live nearby?”
His eyes light up. “Yeah, a few streets down.”
“Shall we go back to your place?”
“Okay, cool.” He heads for the door, and I follow him out.
It’s a beautiful early summer evening. We walk for five minutes, then turn left onto a quieter road. We pause at a pedestrian crossing and wait for the lights to change.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks.
I blink. “Here?”
He shrugs.
There’s nobody else waiting to cross, so I take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”
He moves closer to me, lifts a hand and slides it into my hair, then pulls me toward him for a kiss.
It’s not my first ever kiss—that was reserved for Jimmy McCaffrey when I was twelve—but it’s the first I’ve had as an adult, and I’m therefore surprised when he thrusts his tongue into my mouth straight off the bat. I stiffen, fighting the urge to move back. He tilts his head and deepens the kiss, and I close my eyes, trying desperately to stand still. Where his arm is raised to cup my head, I can smell his armpit. Oh God… this is awful. I knew it wouldn’t be romantic, but holy shit, this is even worse than I imagined.
I don’t know this guy. We have no connection at all. Am I really going back to his place? Can I see myself taking off my clothes, and letting him touch me in the most intimate way?
And what about safety issues? How do I know if he’ll be gentle and kind, and not rough or even violent? Oh my God, this is so ridiculous. Why did I ever think this would work?
I move my head back, and he lowers his arm.
“Tim,” I say gently, “I’ve changed my mind.”
“Aw,” he says.
“I’m very sorry to have wasted your time.”
“What happened?” He doesn’t look angry, just disappointed.
“I haven’t done this much, and I’m a bit nervous. I thought I could do this, but actually I don’t think I’m ready to sleep with someone straight after I’ve met them.”
His eyebrows rise. “You’ve never had a one-night stand? Wow.”
“No.”
“Okay.” He looks puzzled at that revelation, but just says, “So you want to go back to the bar?”
I smile. “Actually, I think I’ll head off. It’s not you, it’s me. Again, sorry to waste your time.”
“Ah,” he says, “don’t worry about it. Happens a lot.”
Yeah, I think, I bet it does if you stick your tongue down a girl’s throat straight away. But I don’t say it. Instead, I say, “It was nice to meet you,” and then I turn and stride back down the road, walking fast, all the way back to my hotel.
I go straight up to my room, lock the door, take off my jacket and shoes, then flop back on the bed with my hands over my face.
Tears prick my eyes. I can’t believe I thought this was a good idea. How did I ever think I could meet a guy, go back to his room, and be intimate with him when I’ve only just met him? It was absolutely ridiculous. It was never going to work. Maybe it does for people who are sleeping around regularly, and therefore for them sex is just a small step further than kissing. I wanted it to work. I really, really did. But I should have known the reality was going to be nothing like the fantasy.
My phone buzzes, and I pick it up and see it’s a text.
