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| Blogs > migentleman49 > My Blog |
first impressions…
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first impressions… …it seemed like a small thing, but it moved both of us to the next level on our journey to together. The day was cool and beautiful. One that made you want to be outside and soak-up the sun. This was to be our first meeting so picking the best spot for that first meeting was so critical. I thought about it all morning long. Maybe it should be a dark, off the beaten path café with slow music and red wine or maybe a picnic in a park would make the best first impression. After a lot of thought I determined that the best first impression was not going to come from a planned and calculated assault on the senses. It should and would come from an unplanned and unchoreographed script we would write ourselves, on the fly so to speak, natural and honest. We would let things between us unfold without pretense. She called me on the telephone and we agreed on the perfect spot for us to share those very first impressions of each other that would forever set the tone for our romantic and energies. The time had arrived. We were together at last, in the parking lot of the local home improvement store. What better spot to be safe, unassuming and unaffected by an infectious setting than the middle of the parking lot next to the lawn and garden shop. Tailgate pulled down on my dusty old red pick-up, we just sat there and talked, trying to get to know one another. People came and went as they loaded their cars with plants, tools and lumber. If later we discovered that we really weren’t as compatible as we had envisioned we could not blame our early torrid attraction on the red wine or the quaint, romantic café with the jukebox playing low and slow. No, indeed! Our conversation left the normal chit-chat and embarked on explorations of our collective mind about men and women, old and young, past experiences those yet to be discovered. We talked about everything and about nothing at all. She was articulate and smart, thinking before she spoke and not rattling-on about this and that. She captured my mind with her composure. We seemed at ease with one another from the start. I shared with her my belief that true intimacy was not attained by the physical and carnal acts of being together. It was attained by exchanging your innermost thoughts and feelings, those that you do not share with anyone else. In so doing you achieve true intimacy. We created threads of that intimacy sitting there on the tailgate of my old red dusty pickup truck. In a while I noticed that I tended to look away when I was trying to articulate my story or share my fantasies and preferences about our planned journey. Normally eye contact was all-important to me. You know, “the eyes are the window to the soul” and all that….but as our conversation lengthened it had become more open and “matter of fact” about our sexual intents and interest but I couldn’t maintain eye contact. Could it be that the intimacy that we were sharing was distracting me? When I studied her and listened to her words it made me want to touch her… to touch her face, to trace the outline of her lips with my fingertips and brush her hair off to the side so I could see her beautiful blue eyes. I wanted to slowly and methodically undress her and feel her creamy skin in my hands. When I looked at her I imagined myself exploring her body and seeking to arouse the essence of her womanhood and her passion. It wasn’t correct for me to have those thoughts but they were there nonetheless. The intimacy created by my mind was morphing into much more. It was a deeply felt need to touch. I have a theory about the phenomenon of “touch”…it is that touching is an underrated form of communication not merely a physical act. A myriad of thoughts and feelings can be produced from one well-placed and gentle touch. A thoughtful touch to the arm while crossing the street can produce feelings of safety and oneness. A touch to the lower back as you walk through a doorway can tell her she is special and will be your first priority. A deep and slow massage of her shoulders communicates relaxation and opens the senses to accept more attention. My mind was now making the transition from good wholesome intellectual activity to a new, more organic level that wanted very much to include ‘the touch”. Upon achieving this new level of reality I frantically looked around and discovered that we were not in the secluded wood having a picnic. There was no quaint café nearby. There was no red wine or soft and slow music playing anywhere. There was certainly no secluded backroom where we might steel away and let our senses run wild. Instead, we were sitting on the tailgate of my old and dusty red pick-up truck in the parking lot of the local home improvement store. Damn |
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Sweet.....
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