“We’ll just have to see how this one plays out. I’m not going to get my hopes up, but if it goes well, I will be getting airbags installed in the headboard of my bed.”
I met Rebecca 3 years ago on a date. Rebecca has recently made an appearance in my life so I thought I’d re-run this series so everyone won’t have to go back and search for her series to catch up. Enjoy!
Rebecca was right next to me. I could feel the energy. I felt really close to her.
“The city is so beautiful” she said.
She turned to me.
“You are” I replied.
And that’s when our lips met. My Lord. I’m too old for this.
Wait…no I’m not.
I kissed her.
Her lips were soft as she yielded to me. She folded into me like an old friend. It was just like I just stepped off stage at the Troubadour in Los Angeles and she loved the song that I had written about her. I was ageless in that moment. Overcome. Beautiful. This can’t be happening, but it is. Her lips were sweet and a little sticky. Minty. Human.
Her pupils were so big, it’s like her eyes were black instead of green. Her cheeks flushed and she giggled. I gently brushed her dark hair from her face and behind her ear. She slipped from me and cocked her head. It was as if she were trying to see me in a different way. “Let’s go look at some more stuff” she said, smiling. All I could hear was Midnight Moses playing in my head by the Dead Daisies.
We continued to wander though the museum. Just going from room to room. I was making her laugh a lot about some things, because that’s what I do. I think at this point it was more nerves than game. I was smitten. I’m like a child at this point. I really am. I’m just amazed to be alive at this moment. But this is the old me. The new, old me. I shouldn’t follow this path.
We went into this one room and the whole space was art in architecture. Glorious big rooms that are incredible and opulent. We’re looking around the room and I’m behind her and she just leans back into me, and she is again in my arms. Is it the art? Is it me? It can’t be me. This is nuts, but the euphoria is glorious. I love this. This is my favorite part of everything. The beginning. Ignition. I’ve always been this way, much to the disappointment of the women in my life. But for right now I’m living in this moment. None of this makes any sense but I’m mainlining this feeling. She turns in my arms and nuzzles her lips and nose to mine. Her eyes are smokey and dark. Lashes flash and she smiles. She looks deeply into my eyes.
Rebecca pulls me into her world and kisses me again.
There was a moment later when we were sitting in one of the galleries and she was so excited by a work of art she grabbed my hand. She clasped it tightly in both of her hands as she described her passion for the work. It was one of my favorites as well. The couple coming home from the carnival. I feel her soft hand clasp mine. She’s holding my hand in her lap. Dopamine drops in my mind and I’m blind. The work was beautiful. But, I could no longer see it. It was gone. As was I. All I could feel in that moment was the back of my hand against Rebecca’s warm thigh.
I think we were at the PMA for 3, maybe 4 hours. I have no sense of time at this point with Rebecca. If I never hear from her again, I’m okay. This was a special sacred moment that I can wrap myself up in tonight. It’ll be just like waking up from a beautiful dream.
Obviously, we did get around to inquiries. Being overwhelmed by beauty and art only lasts so long. I asked he why she’s on Tinder. She said that she wanted to meet someone good. Someone that understood her and liked the things she liked. She told me at her age her friends aren’t really friends at all. They are just a bunch of young fools that smoke a bunch of weed and get drunk all of the time. She has ambition and wants to make something of herself. (she did seem really mature while we were texting) She told me she kind of went on Tinder to try. She gave me an example of a conversation she had with a boy her age recently. They were chatting and she asked him what he was looking for and he said he’d like to have some fun. When she asked him to define “fun” he sent her a photo of his genitals. That is some sad textbook shit right there. She explained to me that as an emergency room nurse, she gets her fill of seeing plenty of junk on a regular basis. “I don’t want to see his dick. I saw 5 dicks today and I had to put a catheter in an 85-year-old dick today”
My unblinking response: “Okay…..okay…”
She said she met another guy. She loved his mind and political views and he was just a really smart guy. She thought maybe her love of his mind and heart would translate into sex but she just wasn’t lit when they kissed. Women know. It’s either on in their minds and bodies or it’s not. Sadly boys, men don’t have this ability. She said she went on 4 dates with him and it was done. He was divorced and really into his kids, I think she said they were 16 and 19. He wanted to have her over and they were going to have dinner with the gang, and it all seemed weird because the teens were a little uncomfortable with their 54-year-old father bringing over a girl who was only 2 years older than the 19-year-old son.
Fuck. I’m jaded as hell and I hate that story. But it really came down to the fact that there was no chemistry. And that’s critical, because I’ve made that kind of lightening strike twice in the same place in the last decade. But what I noticed was she liked him but just wasn’t feeling the intimacy when they kissed. It just wasn’t there. She said she really liked him as a man and tried to keep the friendship going but he realized there was no fire so he withdrew. He has since moved on and even recently married.
So, is this chick into older men? I suppose so because she’s so bright and mature in her head. She’s got the brain of Emily Dickinson and the body of Vanessa Hudgens.
What am I supposed to do with that? I never saw any of this coming when I started this blog. I thought I would be just writing about my experiences with women here in Philly over the last 10 years, and then this curve ball blindsided me.
She told me her dad is a big guy who’s from New York and he’s a caricature of a New Yorker. Works for the railroad. Her uncle travels the world and sounds like a cool guy that works and makes enough money and then moves to the Philippines and lives like a king for a year and then does it again somewhere else. That sounds awesome. I don’t have the freedom to do that but if I did you know I’d be there in Thailand risking arrest every year until I die. But I digress…
We wander back to the first floor and are nearing the exit. She validates her parking because apparently she’s a member of the museum which I find super cool. We walk out the door and go to the elevator to the parking garage. I didn’t know the PMA had this. It must be new. I walk her to her car. It’s dusty and blue. We do the perfunctory statements. I like you. I want to see you again. But those words are hollow. I think I may never see her again. This all seems so unreal. I haven’t felt this in years. Please don’t let this happen again. But I want the drug of love. Not love. Just the drug. I feel like a helpless addict.
She looks up at me under the fluorescent lights of the stark concrete parking garage. We are beneath the silence… Her green eyes flash in the light like pale emeralds. She runs her hands through her thick mane of dark hair. I watch as it tumbles back to her shoulders through her fingers. Her neatly manicured fingernails. The lean muscles in her arms. She smiles. Sort of a sly, half-smile. Like she knows something about me that I haven’t revealed. I think she senses it in my eyes. I smile and try to clear that. But she sees me. It’s unsettling. She places her petite hands together likes she’s praying, and then spreads them and reaches for me. Her hands hit my shoulders and pull me toward her.
She kisses me. The kiss is deep and wet. Her tongue swirls. She smells exquisite.
I am lost in this sensuous moment.
But just for a moment.
Rebecca: “I like you. The Fringe Festival is happening soon. Can we go to something?”
You all know my answer.
She places her foot against the door and adjusts her shoe. I steal a glance at her well turned leg. She lingers on the laces of her sneaker. It’s taking too long. It’s as if she wants to remind me of what I like. She knows. She’s reading me. Come on. Nobody can do that. Maybe it’s all in my head, but her legs are exquisite and she knows she’s touched the beyond in me.
She drives away and I’m back on the street behind the museum. I order an UBER. He arrives in 8 minutes and I’m on my way back to Rittenhouse. I’m sitting in the back of the Toyota Avalon and my mind is reeling. I need to hold it together. He’s lost for some reason and I have to guide the driver home. I get out and realize I haven’t eaten in over 8 hours. I stop at my local corner shop and order a slice to go. I get back to the bat cave and text her.
“Home safe. Had a lovely evening with you.”
Then it came…
“I was just about to text you the same thing! See you soon! XOXO- Rebecca”
We’ll just have to see how this one plays out. I’m not going to get my hopes up, but if it goes well, I will be getting airbags installed in the headboard of my bed.
Old habits die hard.
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