I lay in bed, nothing on me but a hot Cuban and some rumpled covers, and I rolled my eyes in disbelief. "Uhm, I kinda wanna get laid..." I said, stating the obvious.
"But I'm trying to do the right thing and be a gentleman...I like you" I considered the irony of him saying this as he tugged on my nipple ring.
"You don't know me"
"I like what I know. Do you really just wanna get laid...?" I raised an eyebrow. "I mean if that's really all you want we could...we could just hang out once in a while and fuck. But I like you. I think it could be something more. What do you think?"
I zigged, I zagged...I longed for the good old days when guys played these sorts of games to actually try to sleep with me, instead of to delay it.
In the past month or so I have received messages from and had conversations with women who are all going through similar situations.
This would seem to be a city-wide epidemic.
We appear to have more than our fair share of indecisive man-boys, as well as an abundance of strong, intelligent women. It makes for a bad combination.
We like them, we love them, we can't get them to commit... or put out.
It's a frustrating situation all around.
The tradition of the castrati never really died out---it just resurfaced in the unlikely little burg of Portland, Oregon.
This morning, as Cuba chirped "Ciao, mi amor!" on his way out, I relented a bit.
He may be Americanized, but he hasn't lost that Latin charm.