As far as I can tell, I wrote this sometime in the 1990s. I was exploring during that time how one character can tell a story with almost no input from any other character in the story.
Just Thinking
Her last boyfriend was going bald and wore a ponytail. That should have been all I ever needed to know to warn me to stay away from her, but oh no, not me. I had to plunge right into it with her. Sorry, bad choice of words. I’m just an ordinary guy. She’s beside me in the bed now. I’ve never seen her asleep before. She looks so quiet and innocent. Even beautiful. It’s hard to believe after what she did to me tonight. I’m lucky to have a fingernail left. Talk about a case of nerves, but then I’m told I think too much. It happened right after I picked her up at her apartment. We had just gotten into the taxi, and she leaned over and whispered, “We’re going to make love tonight.”
I’m getting ahead of myself. I met Tina a little over a year ago. It was at a party. I didn’t want to go to it, but I need the information. Besides, if I didn’t, my boss, Mr. Weisenburger, would have hassled me and told me I wasn’t doing my job. I don’t need that. My job is to analyze the clothing industry for an investment house, then pick the best stocks and write up the recommendations for my firm’s clients. The party was one of those they have after introducing a new season’s line of clothes. I just listened to the talk about orders and such and then put it in my little notebook so our clients can make their choices of stock. It’s an excellent way to get information, and surprisingly it even uses my degree in philosophy. It’s sort of an existentialist experience — in clothes making the man. In this making his living.
Tina sells clothes for the company that gave the party. It was one of those suite parties in some fancy hotel. I don’t think I had ever noticed her before that night, although she says she noticed me. She stood out around all the young, thin models and old ex-models married to executives. Tina is about five-two. Has that kind of light brown hair you aren’t sure if it should be called blond or brown. She stood out because she is big across. No, I don’t mean fat. She’s a genuine case of having big bones, and her hips are just too big for the rest of her. Around all those skinny models, she just. . .well, didn’t fit. The party was about done when we met. The parties don’t last very long, which is good. I’m not a party person. Besides, all I ever do is listen and eat. Tina came over as I was leaving and asked if I was a fashion reporter because she’d seen me taking notes. I told her about my job, and we ended up having a late supper together. It was Italian. Tina is big on ethnic foods. The next day she had to leave town.
She called me when she got back from her sales trip. We did it that way because she’s never sure when she leaves when she is going to be back in town. We had dinner together. Our relationship was always fun. We did the museums, the opera, and even walked to the park next to my place and watched the kids playing and people walking. It didn’t seem serious. The only complaint she ever had was that I thought too much and should just enjoy things as they happened and not think about them. There was never anything more than a good-night kiss until tonight.
I panicked in the taxi. Do you know what it is like to be told you’re going to make love to a woman you have never been to bed with before? It causes anxiety. Big time. I mean, what if I can’t even get it up? Does my underwear have any holes? I knew my socks did, but I could hide them. Did I wear my shorts with the hole in behind where I ripped them on the camping trip? Tina just smiled as I turned to mush inside and said, “It’s always better when you think about it before doing it, and I wanted you thinking all through dinner.” Sure, I was thinking all right. Tina is a friend, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. How do you say, “I’m sorry, but my body doesn’t want to cooperate. Maybe tomorrow night?”
By the time we got to the restaurant, the idea was sort of settling in. A little. I was getting used to it, so I got to thinking. If I was going to do it with her, I had better figure how to get her out of her dress. It didn’t look like much of a problem. The dress seemed to have just one zipper. Tina noticed me looking and asked if I liked what I saw. I blushed. She teased me. How does a woman go from being a friend to ah . . .ah. . .to whatever? A lover? I mean, I had never thought . . . no, that’s not true. I don’t think a man ever dates a woman and doesn’t wonder a bit what it would be like with her. I just never wondered too hard about Tina. How do other men do it? They seem to go to bed with every woman they meet. They don’t worry. I wonder if I’m a secret prude.
It got worse when we got to the restaurant. It was Thai. Tina said something about hoping the hot food would make me hot. That made me worry. What if I can’t satisfy her? I wondered if I couldn’t convince Tina that I was getting sick, then I could go to the men’s room and sneak out a window or a back door.
Dinner was over too soon. The taxi ride back to Tina ‘s apartment went by too quickly. I didn’t get a chance to say anything. Upstairs, Tina told me that she was falling in love with me and that I seemed such a gentleman she felt she had to make the first move. She hoped I wasn’t gay. There were almost tears in her green eyes. I held her and kissed her, but I was too scared to do more. She wanted to dance to make it a more romantic evening, so she put on a CD. The music was slow, and we danced. I knew she expected me to do something.
I didn’t know what to do. Do women know how confusing they are? When you’re growing up, all they say is no and then when they want you to do something. They think you know it’s time and what to do. It doesn’t make sense. How are do they think you will learn if all you’ve ever heard is no’s? I was thinking so hard I stopped dancing. Tina was looking up at me. I fell automatically into my best try. I kissed her as I felt one of her breasts. I got ready to duck, but Tina just smiled and took my hand. It wasn’t natural. I knew she was just setting me up.
She led me to her bedroom. You know, something is intimidating about a woman’s bedroom. It’s all full of things we men don’t know anything about. There are different smells, strange bottles on the dresser, and frills. I almost ran again.
The bed was turned back. The flowered sheets seemed too perfect. Would I be able to do it? But the bed fascinated me. I was going to lose my virginity on it. No, not my virginity, but my virginity for the month. No, it has been longer than that. It’s been since before I met Tina. It’s no wonder I was scared. I thought she’s had more practice recently. I didn’t want to be a fool. I wished I could say, “You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m out of practice. What do I do next? How do I do this?”
I think she must have known. Tina asked me to unzip the dress and turned so I could reach the zipper. She explained the dress was expensive, and she wanted to hang it up. I watched as she hung the dress. Her slip was almost the same color as the dress. It is what men call light tan, but women have another name for it. It is strange the way men and women see things differently. Tina came over and asked if I wanted to take off her slip. She said it came off over her head. She put her arms around me then and held me. I tried to get her bra off, but she laughed, “It unhooks in the front.” It was one of the bras that’s more lace than anything else. Lace is such a disappointment. I always thought it looked so soft, but it isn’t. It is always hard and scratchy.
She watched my face as I undid her bra. I’ve noticed that. Women want you to appreciate their breasts. You had better smile and say something nice, or you’ll ruin the moment. Tina was pleased because I was. She has beautiful breasts, kind of pointed but soft and warm. They smelled like her perfume, sexy.
It went pretty good after that. I was enjoying it, except for one bad moment. She asked if I wanted her on top. She said that she knew a lot of guys who liked it that way. How did she know? How was I going to compare to all of them? I’m no stud. I thought if she’s that experienced, I’m going to be a disappointment for her. Tina took my silence as a yes, and I found myself part of her. Isn’t that a great feeling? But did you ever think of how strange it is? How different it is for both of us. A man can’t really tell a woman how it feels to be inside her any more than a woman can tell a man how it feels to have him inside her. Do you think we ever communicate? Really communicate?
On the other hand, that’s the best part of sex. Just being part of another human being for a while. It’s a good feeling. It felt so good with her. I wonder why? I’d like to do it again, but she’s sleeping.
I guess I’m falling in love. I must be, or I’d wake her up just to tell her she’s beautiful. Isn’t that love? Caring about someone more than your self?
