I drove home alone late last night tormented with a feeling of disquiet… Puzzling sensation it was, since nothing of any great import had gone on, really.

Oncoming headlights whizzed by as thoughts floated through my mind’s eye, replaying the few hours just passed and trying to explain the pit in my stomach.

~ ~ * ~~

It had been, actually, a good night… to a point.

I went out to a club alone, and was greeted there by the smiles and open arms of a few friends. A while later, I found myself chatting with a couple, when a nice-looking man with a full head of greying hair approached and asked me to dance.

Nevermind that the song that was playing was the bane of my existence in high school (I won’t date myself by revealing its title), I happily accepted.

We danced for a bit and talked – I will not lie, it really felt great to just be treated like a lady. Such a simple thing, yet so rare for one such as I.

Of course, now was the time for the disclaimer portion of the evening.  “Um… “ I began, “I don’t want you to be surprised, so… “

He cut me off, “Your surprise is exactly the kind of surprise I’m looking for,” he said.

“Ok,” I thought to myself, “obviously, I didn’t pass as a woman, but of course, this is much better.”  And then, “Hmmm, I didn’t mean it that way, but I wonder if my little confession could have been taken as some sort of invitation.” It certainly wasn’t meant that way, nor to be presumptuous.

Hard to say for sure, but in any event, as the time passed, he did start dancing closer and whispering flirtatious comments in my ear, followed by a tentative caress here and there, and eventually a kiss…

This is all new to me and I still don’t know how I am going to react to any of it, but I have to admit, it was nice.  It’s not that I was particularly smitten with him, but the way he was treating me was just right!

As we kissed, I put my arms loosely around his neck and he pulled me closer… by grabbing my ass.

Now, this is a pretty raunchy club, so it wasn’t like someone grabbed milady’s arse at the Queen’s Ball or anything, so I suppressed my reflex to smack him and went with it for a bit before calling time-out and suggesting a little talking on the couch.

The conversation was ok, but really didn’t go anywhere. I guess he had his mind on the one thing that wasn’t happening. After some time talking and fielding his advances, I realized that I hadn’t developed any real personal connection with him, so from my viewpoint, we were pretty much done; it was time for me to go.

~ ~ * ~~

The way I felt in the car surprised me.  I’d met an ok guy, pretty much stuck to my guns, and was glad to be headed home alone, with time to think about things, and having not allowed my libido get the best of me.

I guess I was a bit frustrated with myself for going even as far as I did with a guy I’d just met.  That I did all this where friends that don’t know me that well might have seen it and judged me for it made it all the more upsetting. Perhaps, after all, I should have smacked him when he grabbed my ass. I don’t know.

I guess I was also a bit disappointed that he became so focused on sex after such a nice beginning.

And, finally, the thing about trying to relate on more than a sexual level is that you rely on those feelings in governing your actions, and if the relationship quickly breaks down, you’re left feeling a bit sordid.

I wonder why I never had any of these thoughts as a guy?

~ ~ * ~~

p.s.  The next morning, half-awake and groggy, it hit me almost by surprise how my miserable thoughts had been replaced by a feeling of pleasure at the nice parts of the night’s experience and a hope that maybe something like this might happen again.  Evidently, I had forgiven myself and accepted an internal promise that I will meet an even higher standard next time.