Sexcapades.

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This week 13 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

My prompt is: Start with the sentence "If only I could remember where I left my pants..."

It was submitted by: http://mybrainonkids.net

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If only I could remember where I put my pants, I could get out of here with some semblance of dignity, I might have thought.

Okay, so I wasn’t wearing pants that night but the sentiment is still the same. Actually, I had on a gray corduroy skirt with a teal, thin sweater and gray and black argyle tights. Knee high boots completed the outfit. It wasn’t exactly up to my current standards (this was several years ago), but I definitely looked pretty fucking hot that night. Some asshat at a gas station I stopped at before I drove over even offered me his phone number… which I politely declined with “hell no, fuckface” before sliding right back into the driver’s seat of the car. Apparently, I was also full of sass that evening.

So now, here I was without skirt and trying to find it without either A) waking this dude up or B) injuring myself in a dark room I was unfamiliar with. Why do single guys keep all their dirty clothes on the floor?

I know someone else out there has to know the difficulty in tracking down a garment of yours in a dark room full of haphazard piles of clothes belonging to a man you just banged.

This guy also happened to live in a house with 2 other guys and I really didn’t want to wake either of them up either. I mean, I wasn’t ashamed of what I had done, and I had a pretty fucking great time doing it (pun intended), but it would still be kind of awkward making eye contact on the way out the door considering their extensive knowledge of just how I sound when I do the deed.

I am forever a loudmouth.

It took some time, but I finally managed to crawl around in the dark feeling through dirty man clothes to track down the skirt, the undies, and the tights. I was able to get the skirt and undies on there in the dark, but I said fuck the tights…and the boots. I wadded up the tights, shoved them in a boot, made a stop in the bathroom to make sure I didn’t look too fucking crazy, and made my way out of the apartment into the misty, gray morning. The asphalt in the parking lot was dewy and cold, but it wasn’t freezing out. It was a good kind of cold that refreshed me even as it gave me chill bumps. I made it to the car thoroughly chilled, cranked the heat up, and pulled out of the parking lot. It might have been 7 or 8ish in the morning and I had been there all night; the exact way home was a bit fuzzy, so I navigated on my phone, put on some tunes, and got a little lost in thought about the evening before.

The sex had been good. Great even. And the guy was pretty gorgeous as far as my standards go. Beard. Longish hair. Big. No, not that kind of big. I mean chubby. But he wasn’t bad in the other department either. (insert heart-eyed swooning emoji). Intelligent. Witty. Slightly strange. All the things I like in a dude, right? Right. But like me, he was also a tad bit socially awkward. Okay, maybe saying a tad bit is a little generous. We were a wreck.

It had me laughing all the way home in that way that comes from deep down in your bones because you can’t believe what the fuck you said to another human being. We didn’t just have sex, we talked, we fondled and made out and had sex more and talked some more. That kind of night. And in those times, we talked about life and moving on and the past and movies and music because always.

He said: I wish I had done more things in life, traveled more, seen more… Like what if I stopped at a truckstop on a road trip and blew Michael Bolton the bathroom?

I said: Even *I* wouldn’t blow Michael Bolton in a truckstop bathroom….. wait….

Wtf.

I said: Phone sex is pretty good if that’s all you’ve got.

He said: I don’t know…I feel like I might get all weird during phone sex and not know what to say then suddenly I’m there saying “I want to fuck you on a goat, girl…..” and things just downward spiral from there.

I died.

He said: what if we get freaky with it a church bathroom one day.

I said: Maybe I can get on my knees and pray for forgiveness.

He said: We should do this again sometime.

I said: Maybe we can do more than fuck next time.

He said: I can probably put up with you.

I said: Same.

I don’t know if it counts as a one night stand since we have technically remained in contact over the years, but we never really hung out again. Life intervened and any time we reconnected the cards never fell in such a way that we were brought together again, but for that one night, that one night only, that little single serving dose of human connection made a lasting memory that still makes me feel a whole lot of weird and lust all at once. And for a girl like me, that’s as good a place in my brain as a dude can hope for.

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Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:



http://www.BakingInATornado.com Baking In A Tornado

http://dinoheromommy.com/ Dinosaur Superhero Mommy

http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com/ The Bergham Chronicles

http://thelieberfamily.com The Lieber Family Blog

http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/ Spatulas on Parade

http://www.renasworld.com/ Rena’s World

http://notthatsarahmichelle.blogspot.com Not That Sarah Michelle

http://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch Confessions of a part time working mom

http://www.southernbellecharm.com Southern Belle Charm

http://www.someoneelsesgenius.com Someone Else’s Genius

http://mybrainonkids.net My Brain on Kids

http://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com Climaxed

http://www.angrivatedmom.wordpress.com/ The Angrivated Mom