My now 17 year old self was so in love! Head over heels! Drooling!
And he was such a gentleman…
We spent HOURS sitting in his car after work just KISSING. Nothing else. Just closed mouth smooches (I had adapted after our first kiss on my front porch). Our boss accused us of doing certain other “activities” (which I kinda expected) but like a said, he was a gentleman.
Our first date was on my 17th birthday. Eighteen days later he bought me a bracelet and had it engraved with the sentiments, “I love you”.
And we continued to kiss. Only.
But I was used to so much more.
Had been since I was 14.
Finally, one night we went back to his apartment after going out with his friends. But he WAS a gentleman. He knew how he felt so he had asked his room-mate to come home early. He protected my reputation once again.
I loved the gentleman he was…made me feel cared for, special, lady-like.
But those kisses…they lighted a fire that melted every bit of reserve I had. And they were with a closed mouth! I knew what I wanted but would have never spoke it or even “went for it”. I was ready for more than just kisses. I loved him and wanted to show him.
Today was a workday. 13 hours. And I’m tired.
Love my job, the people, the challenge but…it sure can tucker me out at times.
Wonderful coworkers help.
My job involves touch. And talking. Teaching. And listening.
I think I’m pretty good at it.
Sitting in the break room at work my 16 year old self was running her mouth, as usual. I was going to be a famous actress, Broadway mind you. When from the table across from me the hot, older guy spoke, “Whoa, you’re talking about my hometown!”. My dastardly plans had included returning to said town of my youth and “showing them” cause they had been “mean to my sister” and we moved because of that (not really what happened but it was all I knew back then).
That “whoa” was all I needed and I was gone.
I asked him out. Yep. For my 17th birthday. All my girlfriends assured me, “what’s the worse that can happen?” I didn’t want the worse. I wanted him.
Well, he went home, asked his room mate what he thought, said room mate offered to bail him out if need be (I was what was fondly called “jail bait” back in the day) so he said “Yes”!
I took him and one of my girlfriends to a movie. She was my protectress. Just in case. But there were no worries. Nothing happened and I mean nothing. Not even a kiss.
A week later he asked me out to bowl with his friends. He was older than me and they were older than him but that was “OK”. I spent the evening playing with my hair and shrugging my shoulders. Trying every move I knew to get him to put his arms around me. It. Did. Not. Work. What was I? Chopped liver?
But the piece de la resistance was coming…the goodbye kiss on the front porch.
I felt his hands on my shoulders as I closed my eyes…I was getting so tingly!
He slowly lowered his mouth to mine…
My mouth was wide open, his shut.
Gomer was a prostitute. She married a wonderful man then left him.
He took her back.
I left my husband. After sleeping with a couple of men.
He took me back.
I am not proud.
When first reuniting with hubby I found an abysmal lack of info on women who were the adulterous ones. Lots of guilty men. Zilch women. I so struggled with GUILT. It was my constant companion.
The “whys” I left him and went back are another post, another time, another “me”…
Ah figure next mahght be a good time to introduce mahself.