“You wanted to fuck her.”
“You say that like I shouldn’t. Like I should only want to make out with her or kiss her fucking feet or something.”
“I just want you to be honest about it.”
“I am being honest! We had a great time, and I like her a lot. I think she’s beautiful, sexy, and brilliant. I…”
“You wanted to rip off her clothes and fuck her silly.”
“I don’t know if that’s exactly…”
“Of course you fucking know! You just don’t want to say it to me. I’m a fucking adult, you know. I can handle it. In fact, you not saying it is making it worse.”
“Why do I have to decide this with you? Why the hell can’t I decide this with her? I mean, you already know that I like fucking you, so what does it matter? If we fuck, we fuck, and I don’t want to have to figure it out before hand.”
We both took deep breaths and leaned back. We each took sips from our drinks, and we looked nervously around the bar as we realized that people were listening.
“You don’t have to figure it out,” she finally said. “I just don’t want you to think you can’t tell me. I want you to know I can handle it, and I want you to know that I prefer you being honest with me than second guessing everything.”
I thought for a few moments longer than was comfortable.
“I’m not always good at knowing what I want. But I’ll try to tell you when I do. Deal?”
She leaned over and kissed me. “Deal,” she said.
“I wanted to fuck her,” I whispered with a sheepish grin.
—-
Yeah, those poly moments when you have to figure your shit out and it’s not going exactly like you planned.
