Sex with a stranger

“I’m a rebellious woman. All the boys are scared of me.” She is less anxious now. The vodka has started to cloud her thoughts.

“Perhaps, they haven’t seen the goodness in you. Or you haven’t met a man.”

“You’re mistaken if you think there is goodness in me.” She sticks her finger against my chest. “Less chatting, more undressing.”

I suppress a smile, remembering the night I had noticed her at the bar just a few months ago — she was in a corner, and completely wreck. Tonight, when I saw her again, she seemed welcoming. I bought her a drink and forty-five minutes later, she came to my place, ready to have sex with a stranger: me.

“I am not scared of you.”

“Because you’re a man? We will see that after the night ends.”

Ouch. That did hurt my manhood. “No, because, it takes one to know one.”

“That means you’re as messed up as I’m, mister.” She lies down. “How many women do you bring here, get them so drunk that they end up talking?”

“We are different,” I say, wanly. “I’m alone. You’re lonely. And you’d be the first. You asked for that many drinks, by the way.”

“I’m different. Yay!” She flails her hands in the air. “What do you do when you’re alone?”

“Try to have a conversation with a loner.” I grin. “What do you do when you’re lonely?”

“I try to have sex, but I think I’m too drunk.”

“Let’s just talk.”

“No sex?”

“Nah, not tonight anyway.”

“Did I make you question your manhood?”

I laugh heartily. “Definitely. So much so that I think I’m a virgin, again.”

“Oh,” she mutters. “That means, I get to teach you. I’m a good teacher.”

“I agree.” I move my hand near her face. “May I?”

“No. Why?” She closes her eyes. “Okay, maybe, once.”

I caress her cheek and she snuggles. I feel my heartbeat quickening.

“I can’t tell you everything tonight,” she says quietly, her eyes still shut close.

“Why not?”

“Because it all becomes too easy if you know this heart.”

“Go on.”

“How much did I drink?”

“Just about an entire bottle.”

“And you let me? Thought it would be easier?”

“I thought you should just drown in something else other than sorrow.”

“Is this the start of something new?” – she says hesitantly.

“I have never seen someone this sad,” her voice is faint. “Perhaps, saddest of all are those who are too damaged for the world to notice—and who understand the world a little too much. When we sit to talk about us, words seem to scatter around the world.”

She takes my hand and smiles a sorrowful smile, tying all of me to those brown eyes. We don’t move. She doesn’t have any place to go, and I don’t have a place to be, so we sit there—I, letting her eyes run over my vulnerabilities, letting her find a crack.

“There are meaningful sentences in your heart,” she begins to speak.

I know I will regret listening to her, but I don’t stop her. Not this time.

“And it takes too many deep breaths to close down again once you have opened up to someone, but you must understand, you can’t be a balm to this damaged world if you keep destroying yourself. You are an abandoned theatre and all you need is an audience who can sit and see your acts. Let me be that audience.”

“But all my relationships have been temporary.” – I said with a heavy heart.

“Were they good?”

“Hell, no!”

“Bad, then?”

“No, again. Good and bad has always been subjective for me.”

She waits for me to continue.

“Let me put it this way, a man who is capable of loving or is loved by many, love is a good factor to them. But if you’ve been betrayed by love, you don’t consider it a charmer. You understand?”

“Tell me about your temporary relationships — friends with benefits.”

“The truth is, nobody has anything nice to say about it. You have these tags like dating, commitment, or relationship and they all just slip under the blanket and you can go to sleep saying “oh, I’m dating him”, or “I’m in a relationship with him”. But not friends with benefits. You are not supposed to go around admitting it. It sounds like a violation or a crime you commit to your body.”

“And what do you think?”

“I’ve had two friends with benefits. It was the best kind of relationship I had. Quite honestly, I hated to think about it when I was in love — I thought it was just giving away your body. I was wrong. Being in love damaged me. Love is never a balance, sometimes you give your hundred percent and they give nothing in return.”

“That’s how it is, you keep trying to work on it.”

“Yes, I agree. Loving isn’t easy. No relationship is ever going to be — putting efforts is the key. But if you’re the only one hanging at the edge and nobody is going to pull you up, you’ll lose the grip. And falling hurts.”

“Okay…”

“Friends with benefits may still not sound like much to you, but it has helped me. I’ve had a balance in life. We were there for each other when either of us was an emotional wreck and pleasured each other when we wanted to. No lies.”

“But they didn’t last.”

“Neither did love. And it’s not about finding the perfect match, it’s about having someone you can call a friend when you are at rock bottom or when you want to be lifted up. If all the relationships in this world are going to be temporary, I cannot sit back and commit to memories. If given a chance, I’ll sign myself up for another friends with benefits until I want to commit, and there’s nothing wrong in that.”

“But why do you run away from life and every moment that can make you feel something?”

I stare at her blankly, not giving away my fears. I look into her eyes that are already pinned on me. She speaks nothing but sits with a face that is demanding answers.

Her glance is unfaltering. This time, there is no escape from the question.

I consider my options.

Do I trust her?
I don’t. Heck, I haven’t trusted anyone in a really long time.

What do I have to lose?
Nothing except a fragile heart.

How can I turn this around if she decides to stop seeing me?
I write about her. This moment.

“What do you want to know?” I say suspiciously.

“I’ve been in love with you for over a month now and even though you, somehow know it, you won’t even discuss it with me, that if you’re interested in me or not. All you’ve said is that I shouldn’t wait for you, but that’s vague. I want… I want something concrete. A reason.”

Okay, it’s happening. This is getting exactly where it shouldn’t go. Shut her up. Say something rude or turn cold. You don’t have to tell her about how you feel. She doesn’t have to know. But she is asking the right questions and she’s stuck on me. I need her to stay away from me and this is the only way. I’m doing her a favour by keeping her away from me.

I take a deep breath.

“I don’t see love the same way you do, miss. It’s grim for me.”

She stays quiet. The silence hangs between us.

“To you, love is all about a backyard, falling for each other every day, holding hands… things that I find too cheesy, too far-fetched for myself. I don’t do all that. You won’t wake up some mornings with flowers.

I am a sad story and you can’t change my ending. You’re not going to put my pieces together if that’s what you think will happen here. I come with this baggage of unending, unknown sadness and I don’t want to burden you with it. You do deserve someone happier, who can bring you flowers.

To me, love is a different concept. It’s intense kissing and sudden adventures and everything that’s often unpredictable. It’s also shutting people out for weeks.

For me, love exists some days. And you should be loved every day.”

“But I really love you and if not, let’s make love instead” – This time there is a heaviness in her voice.

“Maybe, but for the night, you need to sleep.” – Caressing her cheek, I said softly.

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