The convenience of a quick swipe right and a connection being made is almost a little too convenient. It’s amazing how the addiction forms so easily. Third alarm goes off in the morning, yawn, flip over, grab phone to check text messages, group chats, calendar to see where I’m supposed to be today… and then I check for any new tinder connections and messages. Not only do I crave to read the memes that I missed the night prior to get my girlfriend fix in, but now I seem to yearn the attention of the possibilities of the winks and hopes of a cocktail for the evening. I craftily juggle conversations between 3-4 guys that range from convos that would be the equivalent of a modern day pen-pal… to the sex conversations that undoubtedly will arise. I’m amazed how quickly I became desensitized to this entire process. I mean, I dedicated an entire blog post about how strange it was that men were so quick to send dick pics… come a few weeks later, I too have dove deep into dick pic pool. God, how basic of me.
All the while, the memory(ies) of Rebound Babe and our Sunday rendezvous remains emblazoned in my head. Almost as if I can still feel the weight of his body lying on top of mine. Like when you get back into bed and under the covers and you can still feel the warmth or heat on your legs. As I try to recapture the memories and replay them in my mind in slow motion so I can relive the moment, I think about inviting him back over. Exactly what I am trying to achieve here? Is it really just the physical? Is it that I need the affection? Or am I playing with this boy’s emotions and just using him. I honestly don’t really know.
I start my day today, as I normally do. Coffee, work emails, check my calendar and get ready for the day. I usually only take a few moments to shower, put make up on, and fix hair… but as always I take the bulk of my time trying to find the perfect outfit to where I feel empowered. I think many women, or at least a lot of my good-good-girlfriends, hate this part of the day. Standing in their closets with just a bra and panties on looking at what shade of black they will wear today. But not me, as I stand in my closet in my underwear, I usually have at least one shoe on my right foot, and I think to myself, “What do you want to tell the world today?” Putting on skirt after dress after top, I make the decision between my Power corporate garb, or the new vintage Chloe skirt that I found thrifting a few weeks ago. In these past few weeks between restarting this blog and reading the poems in The Dead Emcee Scrolls, has unearthed a faint brushstroke of confidence as I remember who Maureen is. The unapologetic, take over the world, Maureen. The Maureen who always knew how to pave her own path. The Maureen that always knew what she wanted. I’m slowly starting to remember who this girl is. And without question, the second that the zipper slid up to show the curves of my hips, I knew… this would be Maureen’s day in the vintage Chloe.
Entering in the destination into the corporate car, I get a *knock knock* text notification and it’s Rebound Babe wishing me a beautiful day and wanted to know what I had planned. I tell him that I’ll be heading kind of in his direction, to which he tells me that he too will be in the same god-forsaken city as I would be around lunchtime. There’s a warmth and electricity that sparks up my body as I hope that we’re going to see each other today. He tells me that we’ll play by ear and hopefully we’ll be able to grab a quick bite together. The giddiness in me festers like I’m about to see my new crush during study-hall. All I can think is, I’m glad I wore a cute outfit today that shows off my firm ass that I’ve been doing a billion squats and lunges for.
We both pull into the parking lot at the same time, and feel the electricity pulsate through my body as we meet and greet in a warm hug. It’s 90 degrees out and I can feel the heat of his body escape from beneath his shirt, which he refuses to let up on our firm embrace. I’m curious what is it about us that holds this animalistic attraction towards one another, even after all these years. All I want to do is grab his beard and kiss those luscious lips, but instead, as if with habit, he puts his hand my hip and guides me into the restaurant and we walk in unison as if to the beat of our own song.
I’m not sure what to make of my feelings and how my body responds to Rebound Babe. Its funny how the nervous butterflies take flight for most boys… but their wings remain steady and hold me above ground when I’m near him. Almost as if there’s a protective shield that he casts that says, “Just be you boo.” Is it because this is familiar territory? Or it because in my head I know the limitations and expectations of what we are to one another. Conversation volleys back and forth with minimal effort but with full content. We easily dip into each other food to try and taste what the other ordered, without having to mention, “Yeah, that’s vegan, you can eat that.” I forgot how easy it is to dine with someone without crazy & ridiculous food restrictions. Between bites of my spicy tuna, I catch him looking at me. Its an intense gaze, as if he is trying to soak up every angle to be able to cast a polaroid of me behind his eyes later this evening when he’s lying in bed. The 14-year old girl in me blushes various shades of flattery, as I take my gaze away from him. What happened to that Power Maureen that got dressed this morning? I need to Channel my inner Chanel!
Thinking back into rebound times prior… I wonder why we never got past this point. It’s strange how hard we both “love” in the moment. As if we both know how fleeting our time together is. So we make the most of these moments with no expectations, and give full-fledge, badge of honor kind of passion. The engulfing, intoxicating, no-one else in the room, you’re all the matters, kind of passion. We’re like 2 fishes creating a ripple in a stream, enjoying the ride while it lasts. Or maybe because we’re both only capable, at this moment, for the superficial attention that we need to feel like humans. We’re like 2 heroin addicts, coming together every time we need to feel The Feels.
Later that night, as I take another tape down to replay a video of our love fest from this weekend, I hear another *knock-knock* text notification come through. And it’s a new boy (who’s so new, I can’t even come up with a good name for him yet) asking what I’m doing tonight.