What Happens When You Connect With Your Missed Connection

Before long, he peels off my underwear, tossing them to the floor before pulling me into his lap. The fabric of my dress bunches around my waist and I try to focus on the fabric between us instead of the smallness of his lips when he kisses me. The idea of not stripping fully before we fuck appeals to me on some level, but he pulls away and tries to pull the dress over my head. The cotton, damp with perspiration, clings to my torso and I end up having to take it off myself.

We go through the motions — and while it verges on being good, I can’t stop thinking of all the ways it could be better. It’s hot and cold; the gentle giant routine is killing me. As usual, I lie when he asks if I came. Those must be the magic words, the ones he needs to hear to put more weight behind each thrust. He pushes himself into me hard enough that I think my pubic bone might crack. It’s those last intense minutes before he orgasms and I just roll with it, knowing it’s nearly over.

He puts another movie on and we lay in his bed for the next hour, sweaty and naked, eyes locked on the laptop screen in front of us instead of each other, not speaking.

This is all wrong; this is not a love story. This isn’t even a sex story. When the credits start to roll we both dress quickly and sit across from each other. He’s staring at his iPhone, thumb moving in a lazy scrolling motion; I plant myself on the corner of his bed to put on my shoes. I’m marveling at the conversational distance we’ve achieved, the silence after the sex. Nothing about this feels casual, and the fact we’re both silently waiting for me to leave is the elephant in the room.

“So what are your plans for the night?”

“I dunno, go get drunk with some bitches, probably.”

He doesn’t look up from his phone but I see him smirk as he continues scrolling. “Some bitches, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“I guess I’m gonna go get dinner with a friend.” He may not be trying to expedite my departure, but the lack of eye contact has me feeling as if I’ve overstayed my welcome. He walks me to the front door and we kiss before I leave.

It’s just after 1 a.m. when I text Dick. I’ve been out at the bar with the girls and now I’m looking to make my night end on a positive note. Hey what’re you doing? He doesn’t respond, but that doesn’t keep me from continuing to send messages over the next hour.

You are not sleeping. Wake up!
What? I’m so not sleeping I’m out with my girls…..
Cmonnnn