Added: Erienne Rosemond - Date: 25.03.2022 23:33 - Views: 23402 - Clicks: 5983
A few nights ago, I had a one-night stand with a complete stranger. My first — but hardly a first for womankind. I am a bonafide prude when it comes to anything even remotely sexual with strangers. Nestled at the bar, I chat with a couple I deduce must have been in their sixties, who tell me they drive in from Hamilton whenever this band has a gig in Toronto.
It figures that with all of these strapping young male specimens flying solo at the bar did that one just give me a come hither-look? And not to be rude, but I was on a mission, so unless these two are interested in a three-wayI think to myself as the husband starts a jazz-is-more-of-an-experience-than-a-spectacle rant, skedaddle. Slightly ruffled but undeterred, I order a veggie burger with extra cheese from the bartender.
I feel my hopes for a wild dalliance being swept away by one of the busboys weaving in and out of the stacked barstools. One thing led to another, and lucky me, this saxophone player happened to be from New York City and conveniently staying in one of the hotel rooms above The Rex. Besides, this was more about me than it was about the act, or him.
He was the supporting role to my play-acting. An accessory in my one-woman show. After the deed, we exchanged pleasantries and I get redressed. I thank the jazz man for a nice time and say it was lovely to have met him manners go a long way in this life, my father always said, and what a strange thought to have entered my brain under even stranger circumstances. Heading down the steps to Osgoode station, cheeseburger to-go box in tow, I realize the doors are shuttered. Incredulous, I ask a group of college-aged guys nearby for the time.
The kid shrugs and disappears into the taxi ahead of mine. I start to get paranoid. Did he know? Did I have a scarlet letter embroidered on my dress or hovering above me in flashing lights? Of course, really, there was no way he could have known the kind of night I had just had. That was for me. After my night at The Rex I felt incredibly liberated, in control and in touch with my body. I take comfort in the fact that I went for it. Maybe he was drunker than I realized. I wish I could be as confident in my affairs as I know a good feminist should be, but I comfort myself with the knowledge that having doubts and making mistakes is seminal to sorting out the mess of being a woman, being this woman.
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Lessons Learnt From A Super Steamy One Night Stand