The night following my jaw trauma revelation, I met Chris.
He’d emailed me via the personals, and his photo was very cute. From his vague profile, it looked as though he was in a relationship. When I asked him if this was the case, he said it was, and that he and his girlfriend had an open relationship.
I wrote back to say that if by an open relationship, he meant that his girlfriend was actively OK with him sleeping around, then that was fine with me. Then I recounted my story about Jon, who claimed to be in an open relationship but who, in fact, just slept around while his girlfriend tolerated it. Chris said that, yes, really, it was an open relationship, and his girlfriend saw other men, too. So we agreed to meet.
I don’t know why, but I wasn’t thinking there’d be much spark. And I was right! We were due to meet at a bar on Ninth Avenue, and it was heaving, which always annoys me. When we met I thought, You look nothing like your photo! He must have been at least 30 pounds heavier than he had appeared online! I thought the camera added ten pounds, but not in his case.
All the tables were taken, so we edged up to the bar, where Chris insisted on paying for my mojito, which came with a real stick of sugar cane, yum! He said that he insists on paying, he likes to be polite. Etc. After my discussion with Jeremy, I must say this was a nice respite.
We talked a lot, about our jobs and families and stuff like that. I had a second drink. He kept holding my eyes for a bit longer than necessary, so finally, to ease the tension, I said, “Are you going to kiss me?”
He broke into a grin and started to kiss me. That was a dumb move on my part, cause I’d been thinking that although Chris was perfectly pleasant and smart, I wasn’t interested. But there we were, making out.
There was a couple next to us at the bar, and the woman was pretty drunk. She started kissing the guy, and then I felt her arm snake through mine. She thought my arm was his! Giggling, I pointed this out to her. She was mortified.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she gasped.
“That’s totally OK,” I insisted. “It’s nice to have someone stroke your arm.” Well, it is.
But she bought us a round of drinks .. gah! I was feeling very drunk.
Eventually Chris and I left, and said we’d get together again. But I wasn’t sure. On one hand, I wasn’t really attracted to him. On the other hand, I had just spent the last hour and a half making out with him, and he had bought all my drinks. That seemed to argue in favor of a second date. Though agreeing to a second date with a guy just because he insisted on paying for my mojitos seemed counter-productive, and if we had a second date I might feel obliged to sleep with him, as a matter of politeness ... But one can't fuck a guy solely to seem well mannered.
Then I reminded myself that my goal here was quantity, and and Chris would be another notch on my bedpost, should I ever happen to have one. And just cause you’re not attracted to someone doesn’t mean the sex can’t be good, right? Until I began Living Somewhat Dangerously last Spring, I’d operated on the principle of never getting it on with someone I wasn't very, very attracted to. Even when I’d been too drunk to exercise judgment, I’d never hooked up with someone I didn’t think I really liked. But kissing guys I've been lukewarm about, like Eddie (prior to this blog), and, come to think of it, Jeremy, who at first didn't hold any great attraction for me -- well, the experience has been extremely enjoyable and enlightening. So maybe getting it on with Chris would be fun. Just how attracted do you have to find a person in order to sleep with him and enjoy it? Of course, if that person is really good in bed, you might start finding them attractive during the act…
The next day Chris emailed me, saying he found me “ridiculously attractive.” Very flattering, and though I couldn’t say the same I wrote back to say that I was going out of town for a bit, and would be in touch soon. That ought to give me some time to mull it over, I figured.