When We Met
The time had finally come. Her car was pulling into the lot, and I was finally going to get to meet her in person. I sat on my stool, eyes scanning the entrances to the lot until I finally saw her car pull in. Tracking it to it’s spot, I waited eagerly, nervously, knowing she would be everything in person that she was online and hoping I could live up to my own presentation. I had been myself, right? Surely I hadn’t exaggerated or overestimated. I adjusted my shirt again, checking my buttons, my collar, my belt, my pants, making sure everything was tidy and in place. Then her door opened, and I saw her step out…
It began, of all places, on OKCupid. My profile was honest; I was married, I wasn’t happy with the sexual relationship, I was trying to make everything else work, and I just wanted some quiet, NSA sex. I wasn’t looking much beyond the Orlando area for travel and time concerns. I’d had some success, meeting one or two people who were local or local-ish and with whom I’d played a bit, but nothing much had come of things. One day in mid December I received a message, which read, roughly, that while she didn’t agree with why I was on OKC she understood that shit happens, and that my profile interested her do greatly that despite her reservations she felt compelled to talk to me further and hear my story.
It was the most brutally honest, to the point message I’d received on the site yet. I fired back a response immediately, and only the paused to view her profile. I was instantly hooked. She wrote succinctly, with a controlled intelligence and a strong passion that matched the pictures of her brilliant red hair and red lips, both shining like rubies reflecting firelight. There was no way, I thought, that such a smart, strong, gorgeous woman would ever want anything more to do with me, but I wasn’t about to turn down the chance to find out.
We exchanged a flurry of messages over the next few hours before switching to Yahoo Chat. What began as a “get to know you” session turned into an all-afternoon chat, which I had to reluctantly disengage when my wife was nearly home. I was conflicted, elated to have found somebody who seemed to understand me, crestfallen that she lived over 150 miles away, and deeply bitter that my wife was coming home to spoil it all.
I knew it was essentially over with my wife, but I’d been trying to stick it out as long as I could until I could find another job, work to keep my house, and kick her out. That was my plan, anyway. But it had been 5 months since I’d been let go and things weren’t looking any brighter. Temp agencies and staffing agencies were both failing to place me, and nobody with whom I interviewed was giving me call-backs. It was all I could do to keep the power on, internet running, and food in the house. Having a spouse who neglected me and treated me like an annoying roommate at whom she could vent and yell was breaking me, and I think finally finding somebody who understood my plight had sparked something in me.
She and I talked every day, every night, as often as we could. I lived on my laptop — nothing new there — and started taking off my wedding ring when the wife was at work. The holidays came, and I dreaded both the time with my parents and the time away from my conversations. I was hooked, and found ways to sneak into Yahoo Chat on my phone just to be able to keep up conversation when I made runs to the store alone.
By January, I knew I had to see her. She had a friend coming down from New York — Jersey Girl — and they wanted to make a run out to Orlando to check out a few stores anyway. I jumped at the chance to coordinate things. We worked out a day. I made up some flimsy excuse of needing to go shopping for textbooks for the upcoming semester and handed my son off to my mother-in-law for the better part of the day. We got everything lined up smoothly, no hitches, no hint of anything untoward.
The day came, I took my son to Grandma’s, and headed to the agreed upon shopping center. I got a hair cut — just a little, to tame split ends and even things out — and went wandering around Barnes and Noble to kill some time. She messaged me, saying they were caught behind a wreck on Interstate 4 and that she’d be there as soon as She could. This gave me more time to try to calm the butterflies. As time drew near, I wandered over to Starbucks, knowing she’d be there shortly.
She gave me an update. They were pulling off I-4. They’d be there in just a few minutes. I waited, trapped by anticipation, trying not to let my heart run away from me, and then the time had finally come…
As she stepped out of the car, she was everything I’d longed for. Legs that wouldn’t quit, hair brilliant in the sun, a perfectly configured outfit to highlight her legs, her chest, her face, her hair. She was flawless. I sat in awe, watching her every step, taking her in. She and her friend hugged on the patio as her friend stepped away to smoke a cigarette. She stepped inside, gave me a beaming smile, and said what I will never forget as long as I live: “I’ll be right there, I have to go pee!”
The poor girl had coffee on the way and was stuck on I-4 for 4 hours. I couldn’t blame her. I would have had to pee as well. I was all smiles, though. She was there, with me, wanting to see me, wanting to hold me, and nothing was going to take that away.
She came out and ordered a Passion Fruit Iced Tea. We talked, as I tried desperately to ignore while still appreciate her fantastic cleavage, a fact she teases be about still. We agreed upon lunch at the nearby Panera, where we talked more and laughed and she blushed, this gorgeous rosy blush that lit up her entire face. At one point she excused herself to the ladies room, and I told her friend “There’s no doubt, this is going to be a good year.”
After Panera, we went to a local Pagan store. I needed more incense, her friend wanted to look at oils and jewelry. While there, I pulled her into one of the book rooms and moved in for a kiss. As our lips met a jolt of electricity shot through us both, and time ceased. I don’t know how long we stood there in a quiet, close embrace but it was the best first kiss of my entire life. Her lips were succulent, sensual, and parted perfectly to match mine. I was stunned. I was giddy. I was, again, hooked.
We parted in the parking lot, kissing like teenagers. I drove back to my mother-in-law’s to get my son, and head back to the daily torture that was life at my house. Only now, the torture was bearable. The neglectful, hurtful spouse was tolerable. Life was going to be good. The year was going to be good.
I had met Mrs. AP, and my world had changed forever.
Stay SINful, friends.