Between night and day

"The sound of your watch ticking away is scary." That one line summed up an evening that slid into the next morning without a wink. That and the smell of her perfume. Should I have revealed her smell was the reason I took long breaths? The least I could have told her is how good her touch felt. Warm, soft, comforting, calming. Not one which drives your ticker frantic.

We've got a problem. This constant search for partnerships has ruined creativity. Talks seldom move beyond our attempts to sound smart or superior to our surroundings. Somewhere amidst all the pretence, we lose sight of what we want. It could be as simple as holding a pair of soft hands, a peck on the cheek, a few moments of peaceful silence, a few lame, juvenile laughs, or good ol' hot sex.

Our inflated ego, deflated self-esteem, and perilous fear of offending another have muted our intelligence. It takes your trusty cojones to own up to your desires and do one thing and one thing only. Ask. Because ask and you shall receive. In the worst case scenario, you shall be rejected. But rejection beats the perpetual limbo of not having stood up for your wants. Pants down.

I asked. I was lucky, and so, I got more than my fair share. I got consent; I got the deep, satisfying sighs of both tension and relief, and I got back some of my faith and humility. It was a match (made in an app), or that's the dazzling message we see nowadays. You see how smartly we've boiled down attraction to the bare basics? Looks and a chance to display the grey matter between our ears.

Rest assured, if one doesn't hit the bull's eye, there's always a shotgun which doesn't miss the mark. If you aren't physically endowed, trust your brain to save the day. I know, the shotgun isn't the aptest analogy. But who cares? The mind knows what it wants. It's time you should too. Even better if you have the gall to be an arsehole about it. She knew I was. It made things easier, but who am I kidding?

Subtlety is far from yours truly's forte. She was kind enough to show me my new city's skyline, the night filled with stars, and give me an entry into her cosy sanctuary. Without that, would I have had the confidence to let out my desires? Who knows? Even then, it took a little coaxing to open the floodgates. Boy, she had (and still has) the wits to dwarf your IQ. So much so I took half an evening to string together 'intellectually intimidating' to describe her. She laughed. I sank.

No idea what got me where I was. It was probably the brutal honesty, a dash of stupidity, and perhaps the arrogant bastard that I am (the lady's words, not mine) that made a mundane Wednesday evening better than a sloshy Friday, if you may. Heck, what do I know? I don't drink. Some pot would be nice, though, What I know is her embrace felt good, so did the way she gripped and yanked at my vest, and how she rested on my shoulders. I must have done something right. Enough intellectualising.