The Stirring.

Last week when out with my new girl group we agreed to go out. Well my old classmate K told me he and our old classmate S would be out and they would be dragging me along. I roped in the girls, but childhood bestie couldn’t escape the clutches of her parents. She’s 26 and engaged. I guess it would be a shame if she perished on a night out just as she was about to be whisked back to my precious Isles by a cool dude. Of course, if people routinely perished on nights out here I wouldn’t want to go out at all. But you can never know, drunk drivers, booze fuelled fury. I informed my father the day before that I would be out the following night, and back late. Cue long winded round about tempered argument about why I shouldn’t go out. Where was I going, and who with, and why so late, and what time would I be back. Through his booze tinted arguments I understood that he just didn’t want me dying out there in his custody, because he’d have to tell Mum and he’d be the wayward bastard who led me astray by example. Little do they know my corrupted soul was set at birth, stemming from my overly liberal grandmother and my fun loving father.

I spent the day at my Aunt’s house. I went there to make cake, and to spend time with baby B. I get to see R on Sundays at my house but B isn’t fully potty trained yet and he is quite a hurricane and my father has a glass coffee table and a precious flat screen telly. When I went to fetch B he walked up to me saying ‘pot’ and brought me the little plastic pot he wees in. He wanted me to help. He also learned to kiss, I demonstrated and he quite enjoyed going around kissing people on the cheek. He has a cold but his gorgeousness shines through. Besides, it was really my Aunt who was constantly poking his nose, which was continuously blocked with globs of green boogers, thick like glue (you’re welcome). I forget what it means to have green or yellow snot but I know it means something. When his mother came to fetch him after work – remember he calls her Aunty – he went to her almost shyly and said ‘hello’. Of course he hollered when it was time to leave, but I’m told he cheered up at the prospect of getting in the car. Unfortunately for me my visit took ages. They like to have me around, so I had to stay for dinner as well. Of course I was also relying on my Uncle for a lift home. My battery died, limiting my ability to co-ordinate with my pals about when I would be ready to go out, if at all. My Uncle’s car was barely out of the gates when I informed the cook that I would be leaving in thirty minutes and to only let the dogs out then. He smiled about it, but in truth I had told my Dad.

Still, I rushed in fear of his early return, at which point he would see that a boy was fetching me and come to all sorts of conclusions. I should be so lucky. I found a flattering loose dress in Greek toga style buried deep inside my wardrobe. You couldn’t tell I am fat save for my tree trunk arms. I even looked curvaceous. Drats, I thought, I looked good. When I have no reason to, that’s when the magic happens. At some point S said as much, soon after K and I found him. The problem is I don’t want him thinking it or saying it because it only leads to some sort of badgering about why I don’t like him. That’s why I asked K to pick me up instead, but he arrived with a two seater truck and we needed to pick up C as well. Oh but what fun! I got to hop up to get in and we towered over the road and it was awesome. There was a point at the first bar we went to when I was standing with K and S while they caught up with another old classmate of ours. They were all taller than me, which made me feel dainty, and in danger of releasing bimbo giggles.

At times I feel bad for S. If you took a calculated approach to pairings, he is a great catch. He’s going to be stinking rich. It’s not that he’s a trail blazing entrepreneur, but I think everyone who knows him understands he is intelligent, and likes him, and so people will always think of him when they need something done. His mother owns a few businesses so even if he was a layabout there is inheritance. But no thanks. I don’t want to fuck him, ever. Never have, can’t see it changing.

When the drink had truly taken root in my system, I loosened up enough to dance, at K’s suggestion. All four of us went, but I managed to avoid dancing with S. C was busy doing that. I actually hadn’t planned on dancing with K either, he seemed a little…. reserved for my liking. He danced with me as a way of rescuing me from the groping lecherous advances of strange men. When he was dancing with me, both leading and following my lead it never felt seedy. It was great, he kept his hands to my waist or hands, but never wandered. It was too dark and too loud for come hither with strangers. I didn’t mind dancing close with him at all. In fact all sorts of things came to mind but I don’t know him well enough, I’m not confident things would ‘work out’ and he’s so nice I think it would be a damn shame to shit all over that with awkward moments. Also, while I don’t mind casuals, I would like to find and be thought of as a ‘hell yeah’ and not a ‘oh what the hell.’ But he gave me pangs the following day. He sent me some messages and I was so pleased about it all I thought well shit, I remember this. Pangs in the stomach, stirring in the loins, irrational giddiness because the fact that he has contacted me means he has thought of me. I couldn’t tell if he was flirting with me. This didn’t last too long. He likes Revenge. I won’t give that program the time of day. I hate the lead, to start with and the premise seems ridiculous to me. He strikes me as someone who consumes films and programs without lingering on the message or directing. I read reviews after I watch programs, if it is something I am anticipating. What would we talk about? He also lives at home, and while I don’t mean to penalise him for this, I wonder, where would we make the beast with two backs? I actually don’t even know if he would.

Both he and S bought us drinks and paid our way in all night. That was so nice for me. He also paid for lunch the other time we went out, but it wasn’t romantic nor was there the expectation of some fumbling later in return. I couldn’t feel his penis when we were dancing, but that might be his age. At school, you only had to stand next to a boy to arouse him. They pressed their hard ons into your backside, and they were like rocks. It was amusing and flattering. I suppose now you need to at least kiss, and not just rub your bum in his crotch. Still, I felt sensual, again a feeling I thought I had lost. It also occurred to me that perhaps he has a small penis. I worry about this. About meeting a guy, and we get along great and promises are implied and then he is unveiled and I’m not happy. With men I cared nothing for, upon discovering his shortcomings I would suddenly excuse myself to go to the bathroom, and come out having discovered the sudden onset of my period. Nobody ever wanted to check, mercifully. Once at university, I met an Asian guy. He wouldn’t come to the club, but picked me up afterward. We smoked some weed, and I thought the green was playing tricks on me. I didn’t look at it, but I wrapped my fist around it from the base, and put my thumb on his tip. It was a no-go.

I did actually have a lover with a very small penis once. I saw over several months. He was nice to me though, and loved to eat me out so I was able to get over it. It wasn’t like I had to commit to him and his penis, chained to him for life, but most of all he was just pleasant with me when he was with me. Not trying to gain some sort advantage over me. His only misstep was that once, on his way out, he turned to me and told me not to call him, because he had a girlfriend. I was offended. I asked if I had ever called, or texted him. No, he said. So…. Just in case, he said, but I was still miffed. Speaking to me like I was his groupie. The arrangement we fell into was him calling or texting me every so often asking to come over. Obviously, we met on a drunken night out. It started out as a possible threesome because his friend was better looking, but his friend tried to put his penis in my mouth while lover boy was going for a mouthful of his own. I can’t remember exactly how or why we stopped, but I chose the muncher.

Hush now loins. Hush. It’s the Year of the Snake after all.