Catch and Release

The previous night’s events felt like a dream.  It was kind of surreal to me that I could have such an amazing experience a mere forty-eight hours after an EXTREMELY shitty one. 

I went to bed that night a tad hot and bothered but I have a detachable showerhead so this bitch was well taken care of.  Let’s put it this way, I completely ran out of hot water.  I was in the shower for THAT long.  I’m pretty sure I could have written an erotic novel that would have made Christian Grey blush had I put pen to paper that night.  Nipping, kissing, sucking, blowing, moaning, panting, scratching…fuuuucck me.

I slept well.  Probably better then I have in a long damn time and I woke up in a totally amazing mood. I had the ‘day after sex’ face but with no sex.  Did my rounds of texting and calling my lady friends to give them the play-by-play of the night.  They were all impressed that he was the epitome of the perfect gentleman.  They were also ultra pleased I snagged a pretty sweet make-out sesh. 

Everyone asked me if I would hear from him again.  I confidently said, “No.”  Dude is a player.  Sure I liked him but there was no way in hell I had any intention of getting attached.  I was grateful for the whole experience that night and that was the most important thing for me.  I was totally content with the one single date.  I felt awesome at the end of it and had zero expectations.  No over-thinking, just living the moment for exactly what it was.

I had mentally prepared myself not to think about Mr. Tuesday again.  There was no point.  He was a man-whore and I was too new to this whole dating game thing.  That date was a total fluke anyways.  It was via the sheer curiosity of Leilani and Piper that the stars aligned for Mr. Tuesday to connect and meet.

I just allowed myself to bask in the afterglow and it was bloody awesome.  Like I said, I got a little confidence back thanks to Mr. Tuesday.

As predicted, I never heard from him the day after our date.  Perfectly fine.  I had stored him away in the proverbial box in my head, to only be brought out on those days when my self-loathing was at an all-time high.  I’m getting a little better at not hating myself so much, but I’m a constant work in progress when it comes to feeling ‘whole’. 

I’m not saying I need a man to reassure me of my worth but I have to admit nothing fuels the ego or gives one confidence like a man letting you know that you are pretty and desirable.  What woman doesn’t want a handsome stranger to sweep her off her feet - or in my case foot - for even a few hours??

I had pretty much shelved that proverbial box away in my head even though a small part of me wanted it left out just a teeny bit longer.  It didn’t help that my friends hounded me on why I wasn’t concerned about him getting in touch with me again.  I reminded them and especially myself that I didn’t care about him.  I cared about the experience, as I am sure Mr. Tuesday had the same mantra.  Yes, I admit I felt a little surge of connection being with him but I had to be a realist and kill that shit.  No sense in ‘catching feelings’ for someone I just met, particularly a worldly gentleman of his nature.  I’m just a distraction.  I had to make sure he was the same for me.

Two days later in the middle of the day Mr. Tuesday sent me a text…