feeling frisky


It is dark outside. I am sitting alone at a table watching the merchandise knowing no one is going to stop by, but knowing there is no where else at the event I wish to be. So I sit. Alone.

A man approaches and begins to make small talk. I like small talk, so I indulge. He works with the party’s host, so I am convinced I should continue to play nice. (The host is a big donor and knows how to throw a smashing party.)

The man asks if he can get me a drink, and after the week I have had, yes was the only appropriate answer. He leaves and returns and made what I assumed to be a joke about the strength of my drink. Then he mentions something about getting lucky.

I laugh. Surly a 58 or 68 year-old-man would not be seriously asking a girl in her 20’s to sleep with him. I realized how seriously wrong I was after he continuously asked and waited for a yes or no answer.

I starred blankly at him, not sure what to say. I finally responded with “I am not sure what that means.”

That was a mistake.

To make a long story short, I finally said no and he walked away.

I stood there in the dark furious. He was not the first man to stop talking to me after finding out I wasn’t intending on “putting out.” Hell, he wasn’t even the first one that day!

It just got me to thinking about men and the ways of the world.

Do you really have to be sexually active for a man to stay interested and is it worth it?

Maybe society is getting boring and lame and sex is the only way people understand how to communicate. Maybe people are so boring that the only spark is found in the sheets.

What makes me the most upset about my conversation with that man (who, by the way, left me his business card in case I “felt frisky”) was that I don’t know what bothered me more—that he walked away or that he was the metaphor for almost every man in my “romantic” life.


One Response to “feeling frisky”

  1. 1 back to the basics « befrank

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