Hey, I'm so sorry. I totally get that you're in a private conversation, and I know we don't know each other and it's just coincidence we're in this small confined space together. But can I confess this funny feeling I'm having? It's about your friend - did you call him Steve?
I'm serious, yes! I have a strong sensory thing where I get excited by certain types of voices, and Steve has this melodious, baritone cheerfulness that's doing something to me. Is he single? Wait, don't tell me yet. But would you want to describe me to him?
Yay! My name is Nora.
5 foot 3 inches.
You flatter me! I'm actually 110 llbs. When I'm not PMS-ing.
And please tell Steve that I did that drive he's doing now, and I'm jealous. The Pacific Coast Highway is stunning. STEVE, I HOPE YOU'RE USING YOUR HANDS-FREE HEADSET!
Did he hear me? Can you tell him, so I don't have to yell in the elevator again, that if I could, I'd do that drive forever, up and down the coast, day after day, till my whole life is over. Except I get this pinched nerve thing in my leg, which makes driving a bummer. BUT I'M NOT IN ANY PAIN NOW, STEVE! DID YOU JUST ASK HOW I WAS?
Wait, don't take my picture yet. The lighting in here is to die, plus I'm all slumping into the railing, so you won't feel like I'm in your space. But what's your name? Wait, don't tell me. Let's hold onto the mystery while we still can. Real mystery is dead. Like yesterday, I ran into a guy I had a thing with about 8 years ago, and he looked good, but I didn't do a stop-and-chat. I said, "Hi, Gustav," and Gustav said, "Long time no see," and his voice was bellowing and cheerful, but I just kept walking. Is this your floor?
Ok, well, listen - I'll come with. You're up for company, right? You wouldn't get on a phone in an elevator and expose the details of your life to me, when I'm forced to listen to every word, if you weren't passively seeking my attention, right?
Hey, don't get defensive. We're all a little lonely these days, even with our magic phones and instant touch screens. It's like this thing I had with Gustav, 8 years ago. It lasted maybe 2 months and then we both went back into the void. Oh! Your view is like mine but slightly different. I'm five floors above you, and more towards the park, so I get heaps of light and I can see the top of the Empire State Building. I had the Freedom Tower in my skyline when I moved in 7 months ago, but that's gone now since those 3 high rises went up. But, with Gustav, sometimes I regret that I slept with him. He wasn't by any stretch right for me. He was just wrong wrong wrong.
Fair question. I'd say the first thing was, his insecurity was grating. I don't like a guy who has to talk and talk and talk all the time. Also, he was emotionally unmoored. And slovenly in his home life. And he was obsessed with counterfeit watches. But we had good chemistry and we enjoyed the sex until I cut him off, basically.
STEVE, THE GUSTAV THING IS ALL IN THE PAST. NOT TO WORRY.
But I've decided I have no regrets. Because I finally realized that if I only slept with the "right" guys, I'd still be a virgin.
Maybe don't tell Steve I said that.
Thanks, but I don't drink beer. Bloat city.
Tequila is good. But it's kind of early in the day, right? Is this the one Ray Liotta drinks? Or is it George Clooney's? Should we put Steve on speaker?
I know what you guys're thinking. You're thinking: Has this lady really only slept with wrong guys? And the answer is, Yes! They were all wrong.
You're all wrong! Ha!
Seriously, the only right guy is the guy who loves me and who's stable, and we share good, workable sexual chemistry. And he wants a relationship. I've never encountered that, all in one package. Yes, lime. Salt. Yum. I know I'm a little neurotic and I have some unresolved trust issues, so maybe I'm bringing my own stuff to the table.
Sure, I'm ready for your name now.
So: Dave, Steve, when I'm working on opening my heart to a real relationship, I should be having some sex, right? Even if it's with the wrong guy. Or guys?
You don't have to tell me, because I know the answer is "Yes," because I tried it the other way. A few years ago I cut out any guy in my life who was wrong, and what happened was, there was no one left to sleep with.
I love this coffee table. Is it West Elm? Can I put my feet on it? Fresh pedi, see? Thanks, Dave! It's called Blue My Sole. Get it? Sole, like feet. Not soul, as in my spirit is drowning in viscous blue lacquered inky disillusionment. Because then I waited for someone to come along, who I could have a fulfilling, sexually healthy relationship with. And I waited. And waited. And then I basically forgot to have sex. Do guys ever forget to have sex?
Because for me, it was like, use it or lose it. Next thing I knew, so much sex-free time had passed, I actually had to schedule a follow-up appointment with my gynecologist to complete a routine pelvic exam that should only have taken minutes. TMI? I just mean I was too tense and locked up to get through the whole thing in one shot.
Sure, you can take my picture now. Can you see through this dress? Steve, your laughter is melting me. Dave, do you have chips and salsa? I love how you put your sofa at this clever angle. Mine is pushed straight to the wall. Just a few inches and a slight angle makes a major difference in the overall feel. That's what she said!
But mostly I'm realizing it's best to have sex - maybe even lousy sex - before it's too late again, because my health insurance is bullshit and these gynecological checkups add up. All the tissue they swab and snip and send around for testing, and the labs don't care if your cells are responding on the one hand to the low-grade stress of being single and on the other hand to the shock of exposure to strange male fluids at unpredictable intervals.
Steve, we've got some lovely pics of me to send you. When you're back in town, could we all go to that Thai place you were talking about when we were in the lobby? I can't do spicy or oily, and I'm trying to stay away from noodles and rice. But I love Thai.
You're right, Steve, you should focus on your driving. Send us pics of Big Sur when you can. Ciao!
Dave, please send Steve the first and the third pics. Keep the second one for yourself. Yes, I'd love another shot. I'll pour. You get the lime and salt.
Image courtesy of adamr at FreeDigitalPhotos.net