I try not to think about how long it’s been since I’ve been in a steady relationship and the many things I miss about having one. But the one thing I do miss above all else–which also just so happens to be the prompt for this month’s Insomnia Club–is having a built-in snuggle partner. A boyfriend would indulge me in an extra hour of cuddle time, something that doesn’t necessarily appeal to my random hookups unless some hot and heavy sexual activity is on the horizon. It’s maddening but also understandable. I don’t want to snuggle with them either. I want out as soon as the deed is done and don’t find anything consoling about having a guy trace the shape of my hips or wrapping a finger in my ringlets after we’ve established that we aren’t looking to make our mark on this world together.
But with a boyfriend, it’s different.
You can play hooky and get to know each other a bit better in an entirely different way. Rainy day suitors don’t need to stick around for banana pancakes and coffee; but a boyfriend greets the day with you and looks forward to quality time doing the sort of mundane activities that bring you closer together.
Recently I started to crush on a guy I met in town and invited him over once I began to feel more comfortable in his presence. I convinced myself he liked me after a few flirtatious texts and subtle innuendos. You could cut the sexual tension with a butter knife that evening and still I convinced myself that he was nervous because I was nervous. You know, because he didn’t only want to get into my pants. That was before he interrupted our makeout session with the following words: “You know, I don’t think it would be so weird if we slept together.”
We did not sleep together.
And then there’s Scott, a guy I’ve known forever, who insisted we meet up at the new beer garden in Hoboken and proceeded to kiss me the entire walk back to my apartment. I know nothing will ever come from this relationship either, but I crave the familiarity I feel when I’m around him. Sure enough, once we made it inside my apartment, clothes came off and before I knew it, I stared vacantly at the ceiling and wished it weren’t so fucking hard to find something more gratifying than just this.
It goes on like this. And I find myself increasingly discouraged because I want more but with someone who wants more, too.
In my waking daydreams, I’ve fantasized about all sorts of scenarios. Elevator trysts. Steamy encounters in back alleys and sneaking up on someone in the shower. But I’m tired of wanting to feel sexy all the time. Sometimes I just want a guy who doesn’t shudder at the sight of my pajama pants and oversized tshirt. I want to have a horizontal staring contest with someone and catch up on the events of the world. I want to nestle comfortably in the crook of an arm and feel small next to a man’s powerful frame.
And I want to make that man banana pancakes and invite him into my life, slowly… piece by piece, one bite at a time.
Please show your love to some other wonderful Insomnia Club members! (Notice how their writing topics do not coincide with mine. I kind of messed up the prompt this week. WHOOOPS!):