It is the first day of fall. Things began to change. Green becomes yellow, orange, gold. Days become shorter. Evenings become cloaked in darkness. The warm begins to chill, unless you’re below the equator-then don’t read this part skip over it, doesn’t apply to you. And you, the ONE who thinks this is going to be about him. No…no Bugsy, this ain’t about you, so carry your sorrow ass on back to being a putain d’homme. You will know when it’s your turn…big bold letters I promise <giggling>.
I’ve mentioned my private parties, the shenanigans, the fun. I’ve mostly attended these soiree with a friend as a plus one or gone alone. Which by the way drives men wild for some reason. An unattached woman entering a partie de sexe gets them drooling. Well, I met this guy. Funny thing about how we met. I was stood up by a cad (I know Bugsy, it’s not about you, I’m merely making a point-chill!) decided to go out and have dinner, since I had nothing else to do. I’m sitting at the bar, sipping on a beer that the bartender had put in the ice maker just for me. This gentleman walks in, he looks forlorn, asks the bartender whatcha got in a bottle, he looks at me and says; “I’ll have what she’s having.” I tell the bartender to give the other bottle he’d slipped in the ice and put another in for me. This guy looks like he needs it.
We talk about the impending days of predicted rain, wonder if we’re really in for a monsoon, it’s already pouring rain (I love valet parking when the weather is nasty). And he opens his heart to me. He’s been away, come home to an empty house, the girlfriend has up and left. All she left him was the bed, a set of sheets, his clothes, a coffee maker and a cup. She left him a voice mail, timed to when she thought his plane would land and him headed home-his house by the way.
Here we sit. The noise level has risen as more patrons enter for that after work respite. He turns to me and asks; “Would you like to get a booth? I’d love to buy you dinner and a bottle of wine, maybe?” Why not?! I’ve been stood up at the eleventh hour by a cowardly putain d’homie, who lacked manners and maturity. (Bugsy are you still reading? I’m flattered!) We are seated by the hostess at the bartenders request, a great booth, somewhat secluded, very little crowd noise. I order lite, I don’t have much of an appetite, we end up sharing a couple of heavy appetizers, me another beer and he a top shelf scotch. To my surprise he doesn’t continue to lament about the missing girlfriend, the contents of his home, he’s truly grateful that his beloved dog was being boarded and not left alone. Awww! What a nice guy!
The rain continues, we talk about everything from politics to religion and to my view of Americans who are so hung up on monogamy. When he tells that he and the missing girlfriend attended a few parties of the swing-swap type and ventured to a club in Atlanta. At that moment, I think I stopped breathing for at least 20 seconds ,my heart beat increased to a rapid pace, my eyes must have glazed over or something and my cheeks a sweet shade of red. “What?” He asked. And begins to apologize because he thinks he’s offended me! (okay y’all stop your laughing-you know me, he doesn’t or he didn’t). Once I regained my breathe, my rate returned to normal, I took a long sip from my bottle, sat it down, looked up at him, focused my eyes on those greenish gray, long lashed dreamy eyes of his and said; “My membership is still valid, doesn’t expire until January 2017.” I could actually see his pupils move to refocus. He reach out his hand out across the table indicating that I give him mine. I did. He held my hand very tender like, almost endearing, it was kinda strange at first. Then he said, without so much a blink or taking a breathe; “I knew you were special when I entered the bar. You’ve been there? You’ve been there more than once?” Yes, yes and I added another yes just in case I’d missed a question, because by now, I’m beginning to realize that even though a few hours ago I was mistreated by someone I thought was a gentleman, an earnest person who wouldn’t waste a lady’s time with a bunch of bullshit, who had lied about his age (yes Bugsy you did-you so much as admitted you’d lied about being younger, but I suspect you’re much older than you said-much older-your barge of photos-the periobital puffiness were signs you’re trying to be something you’re not), wasted my time for weeks, it was all for this, this moment of he and I sitting in this booth discovering that we liked the club in Atlanta. That we had a lot in common. And that he, had an invite to a party this weekend to celebrate the change of the season, that he was going to send his regrets even before he’d return home to find the girlfriend gone, his furniture, cooking utensils and all gone.
It took us moment or two gather our senses. We sat in silent for a long time. The waiter came over broke the silence, asked if we’d like another drink. He quickly responded; “Yes, we’d like a glass of house champagne. We have to toast our meeting, this was fate at it’s finest. We were meant to meet.” I told him all about Bugsy, how we’d met, all the bullshit and the way he’d sloughed it off earlier, this was one of the places I’d suggested that we meet and when I’d thrown in his room, just to see…how he’d jumped right on the number 3 choice. He listened and I listened. We toasted with our champagne flutes, he took out his phone, entered a text and said; “We have just excepted the invite this weekend, it won’t interfere with your charity event, we can leave after you’re finished, I’ll drive, but if you’re not comfortable without your car, you can follow me and I’ll book 2 rooms for our stay. I want us to be FWB for a long time, I’ve waited for you forever and I’m very happy this evening has finally arrived.”
We walked through to the bar and thanked him(bartender) . We waited in the alcove for the valet to bring our cars. His came first and he refused to leave me standing there. He waited for my car to arrive, walked into the rain held the door and said; “May I text you later, to say good night?” I agreed by nodding, because I’m not sure if I’m dreaming. The last thing I want to do right now is wake up. But i wasn’t. We’re getting to know each other and it’s great! The weekend is going to be a good one. Fate.
Thanks Bugsy!
Thank you all for reading and your wonderful emails!
XoX Addieg adding.blog@gmail.com
Whereas, if women masturbated more, they are less likely to want emotional attached sex. Women who masturbate freely, at will, with creativity are more prone to have sex, for the sake of having sexual intercourse, as a natural part of being a woman. There are some they masturbate freely with and for their husbands. For the most part, married women who masturbate do so when they are alone and he has no idea that his wife enjoys pleasing herself, regularly. These women are not what society would call good wives, she’s not saving it for him. Which brings me to the man who has lost his lust.
Often wives of these men are their caregivers and life has just bogged them down with doctor’s visits, medications and the inability to connect on a sexual level. Age, for men, can also be a contributing factor. He’s lost his zest! She’s never had that much interest in being sexual, performed it as a duty and now that he’s comfortable to snore the night away in his leather loungers, she happy to have the bed to herself for most of the night. But. What happens to the woman who was afraid to tell him she wanted them to add zing to their sex life, adding a nite of swinging, or a visit to a sex club? She had the missionary sex for 20 years, or more, he’s lost his manly man and has put sex on the back burner. Which as it turns out was a couple of years ago when he had missionary sex with his wife. She’s still wanting sex! She’s got a secret stash in her panty drawer of dildos that vibrate and maybe even a butt plug, nibble clamps, essential oils…How does she tell her lackluster husband she’s horny for some wild sex? She fantasizes about being fuck by a man while she sucks her husband’s cock? The kids are gone, empty nesters and all he does is watch Netflix! She’s surfed the sites and she knows there’s a vast world of sexual fun and no way to get to it, unless she goes it alone.
Affirmative Spirit 
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