Tomorrow is my first one on one session since the stone age and here I am sitting in my apartment staring at the walls wishing I had someone else to talk too. Someone who wouldn’t judge me for the emotional baggage I’ve deposited in the Delaware river. Dredging it up will be like sinking into mud, with a lead weight in each pocket and cement shoes on.
I need to get out of this plaster prison, the less time I spend thinking the better for my soul. Ping, and just like that I have a Tinder match. Someone to distract me, fill the silence and get me off. Tall, dark and beautiful; changing my profile was probably the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. Her eyes are like dark chocolate, her smile like snow and eyes; she was the perfect distraction.
“What are you looking for?” A typical response even in the world of women? My realm of dating women was small, of online dating women, smaller than small. The biggest shocker was that this was something men usually sent me, seeing it from a woman was like a form of shell shock. Could I possibly have more with a woman too?
Should I be up front? Tell her I’m looking for a distraction or someone to welcome me into their arms when I’m a blubbering mess in the coming weeks, or maybe that at the end of the day I really have no idea? Staring at the five little words was like agony on my soul. Where do the lines of being bisexual become drawn? When I think of marriage I’ve always seen myself with a man, but this option didn’t seem possible.
“Just a night.” No commitment, the beginning could be around the corner or literally just end at the end of the night.
“You free tonight?”
Within minutes I’m throwing some ruby red lipstick on, pulling my skinny jeans up over my lady curves as I confirm time and location. Fifteen minutes, a few beers and hopefully I land in her bed for the night. I was free from these prison walls of silence.