Member-only story
You’re Not Ready
It sucks, I’m sorry.
A supermarket car park. I’m two fingers deep in fresh watermelon.
A hooked hand brings the juice to my mouth. The rush hour tail end passes by.
A girl was coming round and a search for “natural aphrodisiac” had spat out something about watermelons.
A rare air of desperation for a fruit purchase.
Being turfed out by your first love at thirty is a lesson in disorientation. Heartbreak. Then, panic.
What’s the protocol now? Sure, she dug your face and your moves, but she loved you, so she would say that. How do you fuck a stranger?
You need to get a move on.
To the surprise of absolutely no-one with basic emotional intelligence, impatience is a terrible impulse on which to build a dating life.
Anyway, back to the watermelon. Speed date blonde was down. And I wanted to be down. Down, and up.
But my friend wasn’t playing ball.
A soft dick is a blinking pilot light.
Slow down, buckaroo. You’re not there yet.
Boning while conflicted sure is a good way to ruin a fun thing. The watermelon didn’t work. Of course.
The only thing that did was time. And learning lightness. Which requires some heavy fucking lifting.
