Dear Sillies,
I confess, I've been holding out. Well, not true. Err, I'm not spreading it. Info, that is. I haven't kept you satisfied, not at all. I'm so sorry.
Truth is I've been on a nice long break from celibacy. Not because of a man, though. Because of several men. Not at once. Promise, but that's a nice thought. How caring of you!
I didn't want to write about any of it. It's hard. Well, not that hard, hard enough. You know? Oy. Lemme just tell you about Huey.
The damn "shelter in place" had been going on for about half a year. Loneliness spiked. So I went to a comedy show, where I, well, performed, and was invited to a party afterward.
The man who invited me is a hysterical comic who's very suave and hot.
"I don't do drugs or drink at all," I told Hottie.
Hottie replied "It doesn't matter, Robyn" and gave me the details.
There I sat in the midst of a hallucinating drug trip, sober. The crowd was kind and respectful of my--ahem--puritan ways.
A man to my right, someone from that circuit who'd intrigued me, struck up discourse about how comedy's a remedy for depression.
He enticed me with his sincerity and warm smile. His belly's huge, and I picked up on a sweet innocence about him (despite the fact that he and everyone but me was drugged out). We'll call him Huey.
"Hey, what's your situation, pretty lady?"
I told Huey it was my first fun night since pre-COVID and I'm single. He stroked my arm as we talked. It felt nice. Human touch -- sigh. It'd been too long. I reciprocated.
Huey moved in for a kiss, and then more kissing. That felt nicer.
Partiers came in and out of the room: "You guys are cute!" "You can go outside for privacy" "Good stuff, huh? I see it's working!" A bit awkward, but I'm a fan of that molly thing. (Never did any drugs or smoking whatsoever. I swear, but I did drink a lot of girlie drinks back in the day, and I do swear like a drunken sailor lost at sea.)
Huey messaged me the next morn: "so sorry for last night hope I didn't make you feel bad."
to be continued...
