Several years ago I read a short story from a male, married friend of mine. It was about a simple encounter with a girl, and although nothing happened beyond his feeling of attraction for her, the point of it all was the forgotten experience of pure, unbridled lust. My friend had been married for several years, and at the time I was in a relationship—but unmarried—and didn’t understand it.
So he met some girl other than his wife who gave him a boner, big deal.
I didn’t get it until this past weekend. We were at a social function, and there I met a man. He is probably in his late 30′s, has young children himself, nice guy. What surprised me was my physical reaction to him. He was tall, with broad shoulders and arms thick as saplings. Being a loyal wife, I didn’t so much as flirt with him. I’ve always been good at hiding the way I’ve felt for men. I understand their need and desire to be the hunter, not the hunted.
I hadn’t wanted anyone that way in a long, long time. I love my husband, but like any married person knows, that untamed heat that brought us together has cooled substantially. Although I know it’s given way to a constant warmth I would never take for granted, it’s just not the same pulse racing, dirty, nasty desire that used to be there.
Just feeling that wanting woke up the girl in me I used to know. The girl who knew how to lift her eyelids just so to meet his gaze.
She’s still in me, somewhere, pretending not to notice the other beautiful men who walk by, pushing shopping carts ahead of me, filling their own responsible economy cars with gas.
