Dating : That Soul Sex

A short story on rediscovering sexuality.

She found him ridiculous when they first met. Full of bravado, shirtless, with weed in his pocket at all times. Pink sneakers, long hair, tattoos on his abs.

Having an existential crisis with him was better than having one in New York. There, everyone was so proud of being mopey, of walking in the rain. The men she met there thought they were so special, so singular, in their anguish, in their need to be loved, in their need to be successful. She was tired of that intellectual pain, and he was the antidote for that.

He asked for everything, and every day — Even a hug.

She had never known sex like this. She had thought good sex had to feel bad for the soul…had to have a crash at the end. Had to always feel like something was wrong. Something squeezing, writhing.

She thought about her ex. The first time they had sex, she was sort of asleep. She hadn’t fully realized he was inside of her until she woke up and asked.

“What is that?” She had said, terrified.

“Me,” he had said.

And then she had jumped up. She wanted to run. She was afraid. She was angry. She was confused. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Someone who was a friend was not supposed to do that.

She knew the word for what he had done, but she didn’t want to say it out loud or to herself. Not yet. She would have to confront that another time.

It should have been over then, she thought. But unfortunately, and of course, it wasn’t. What followed was a terrible back and forth with, always, her desires ignored.

And it bored her, a little, to think of herself as someone permanently scarred by one relationship, one error in judgment…no. That was not her. She was going to really enjoy sex, really enjoy love — without that shadow.

That was her birthright.

Pink Sneakers, here on the beach, with his weed, with his philosophies, with the modeling contract he had turned down because he wanted to be known for something other than his beauty — He was the antidote for all that. He seemed to know it, and he didn’t seem to mind. She wondered if he was some kind of angel.

She knew their love affair was not a forever thing. Or maybe it could be. It didn’t quite matter to her. She didn’t feel the need to squeeze meaning out of him. They touched each other like it was the last time, every time. They both knew there would be a time where they would not be so physically beautiful. And they both enjoyed where they were, in the moment, without trying to cling to it.

It was that CBD oil sex, that lazy high sex, that soul sex.

They had sex fully sober the first time. He asked to touch the small of her back. And that was all it took for her, after years of repressing her sexuality. She didn’t remember ever riding someone with so much abandon. At the end, he kissed her all over, gently exhaling over the spot between her legs.

That was enough to give her a very soft, fluttering orgasm. Then he really started, and she had two deeper ones.

Her soul and her body finally agreed on something. It was a harmony she never felt before. It was right, on every level. She felt re-energized after, not depleted, not weak.

She was not passive, asleep, or afraid — She wanted to do this, more than anything.