Casual

One time I met this guy at Crazy Mama's, a post punk south campus bar back in the 80's, and somehow ended up back at his place having sex.  Since I had mostly been sleeping with women, I was always a bit surprised by how quickly men move.  (Same thing straight women, which I am guessing is because they are used to sleeping with the men who move too fast.)  Like suddenly we are getting it on and I am thinking, How did this happen?

He was pretty.  Usually when I am attracted to a boy, it is because he is pretty.  I like the long curly hair.  He was very skinny, slightly smaller than me. He stood out from the usual Mama's crowd, where everyone tried to out-punk each other, prove who could wear the most black, have the most piercings, have the most crazy mohawk or chopped up hair, and eye liner was big back then.  No, Mike was just wearing jeans and a long, faded flannel shirt. His ordinariness made him extraordinary to me.

I remember following him down the alley to his apartment.  I remember drinking beer out of his refrigerator.  I remember making out on his couch for awhile.  I remember he had a room mate.  Who suddenly came home.  I remember we had to move to the bedroom.  I remember the sex as that drunken sex that started quickly, over with quickly.

And I remember telling him I had to leave.

Go home.  Get some sleep.

It really freaked him out.  He tried to protest.  At the same time, I could tell he was sort of thrilled.  Wait, I get to fuck you and then we're done and I don't have to deal with cuddling or some girl waking up in my bed trying to have breakfast trying to become my girlfriend wondering when I'm going to call her again?  Wait. What?  He was saying, You really don't have to go.  All while he was walking me straight to the front door.  I shrugged, Look we're done here, I want to go home and sleep in my own bed.  I was pretty clear in my own head:  This is a one-night stand, we don't have to pretend to bond.

So of course I ran into him the next night and of course I ended up at his apartment again.

This time when I got up to leave, he protested bigger.  I finally told him, Um I have something to tell you I'm a lesbian, this is fun for me but I'm not making it a habit you're great and all but it's not going to turn into a regular thing.  (I mean, how could he think hooking up with a girl at a bar and immediately having sex with her was going to turn into a regular thing?  If he wanted a regular thing, I'm supposed to get a phone call for a date or something and he didn't even ask for my number. Isn't that the way straight people worked?)  He looked puzzled, trying to make sense of what I was saying, finally asking, Well, you mean you're....bisexual?

Me:  No.
Him:  But we just had sex.  A lot of sex.  Two nights.
Me:  Yeah, the best way to explain this to you is men are much easier to deal with than women so sometimes I fuck men.
Him:
Me:  I mean, with lesbians, you have to fucking take them out to coffee for three weeks and actually get to know them before they sleep with you.  With guys, I can just meet you in a bar that night.  Like we did.
Him:  So that makes you bisexual.
Me:  No.
Him:
Me:  It makes me a lesbian who fucks men.

This takes a while to sink in.  Finally,

Him:  But if I am a guy a lesbian is fucking, what does that make me?
Me:
Him:
Me:  Lucky.

We laughed.  What guy is going to argue with that logic?

So of course I ran into him the next night and of course I ended up at his apartment again.

This time he took me out to his balcony.  This time he brought out food.  This time there wasn't any cheap beer from the fridge.  This time he opened a bottle of wine.  This time he actually wanted to talk about himself.  He told me he was going to OSU studying to be a teacher and right now was doing the student teaching part, how working with the kids terrified him.  He told me he was from Lima or Findley or some other Ohio small town.  He told me his girlfriend had just broken up with him the week before.  He told me he hated his room mate and as soon as he got a job teaching, he was moving out.

After we were kissing, he started crying, asking, I'm never going to be able to satisfy you, am I?

No. No, Mike, you're not.

That third night, I spent the night.  Woke up and went to breakfast.  Walked up and down High Street together.  We exchanged numbers.  He was really beautiful.  He was really funny.  He was really nice.

I never used anyone for sex again.