Unsafe New York: Part Thirty Nine

BOLTING PASSIONS OF A YOUNG FEMALE BODY
As I sat there on a date with an extremely hot man and an artist and watched us both become bewitched with our bodies, looks and smell, I realized with horror that we were spiraling down and there was little we could do to stop it. We simply lacked in brakes and even if we had them we both apparently would not have known how to apply them. He was wildly attracted to me. The connection was strong I was swallowing words, blurting out nonsense and conveyed my entire life to him under 15 minutes. You know how it happens, when you like someone, you feel that you and him are on the same frequency, and you are desperate not to do anything to turn him off. If he feels the same way, well, then, you have two peopl struggling with a wild desire to touch, get naked and yet fearful, terribly fearful of censure, having their parnter not approve or even worse, dissaprove of their looks or smell or way. Both want it, both want nothing but, theri words are just a pretext, they are running out. And we are brought up in a time and place where two genders run out of stuff to say to one another pretty soon, simply because we are not educated the same, are not taught how to look one another into the eye and deal with desire, how to deal with terrible and painful self consciousness.
And so we sat there, he run out of stuff to say - I could tell that not only I was more erudite, I was more composed of the two and more well possessed of words and structure of the argument. And the guy, out of lack of what to say and do started to attack me to keep away the horrible feeling of inadequacy and lack of self control he was experiencing. I had to do two jobs: fight him off without allowing the chasm between us spread wide open like an abyss and swallow us both, and at the same time, I had to keep the conversation intelligent. I had no energy left to slow down, listen and really think. All was spead up. He was wildly devolving, he ws skipping steps, cursing these steps out, running headlong into nihilism at this point. WE have concluded a couple of arguments and exchanged some information but I could tell that he was not used to having conversations at this level and usually got by by holding hands, flipping his hair, making gestures and carressing the partner who was less intelligent and definitely more fearful. And he did not enjoy the art of reasoning and rhetoric and did not derive the same almost sexual pleasure out of it. But I did. And his non-cooperation interferred with my pleasure. Needless to say he soon plunged into an absurdity which he denied being such and run himself into a corner of nothing means anything: I responded in silence. At that point I've called for the waiter but he was nowhere to be seen. I have finally realized the difference between people that education, political beliefs, moral stands and principles and value system create. We were similar people and yet we were vastly different. He despised religin, I practiced it. He loved anarchy, I adored order and law. He denied his feelings and emotions and hid behind verbage, I accepted myself to the nth degree and either lived with my faults or fought them. He still did not accept the fact he was aging and was perceived as someone from outside. He constantly struggled to impose his view of himself and his reality, on the outside. He did not understand the natural laws and did not have brakes that normal, sane and healthy people have. The guy acted as if he knew me forever, and was in his own living room. I started to observe the signs of frenzy and heat I have seen in my schizophrenic friend and thought about one thing only: say good bye in a respectful and decent manner and leave him off asap without making a scene or having him make a scene.
And I did. The gent got the drift and (with diffuculty) kept himself away from harrasing me any further. He grabbed my hand, tried to make me cross the street and spoke about "not talking here". Was he paranoid or just attributed an exaggerated importance to our little rendeavouz and his own worth? I did not know which one but for some reason suspected the last.
We shared the journey back until our paths took us separate ways and said good bye. I shook his hand. As I walked away I wondered: why could he not keep the meeting to what I told him it would be about and he had agreed? To sex? To gender interest? To partnering in making love? Why did he want more from me thought I've explained I would not be able to provide that?
Why are we, women, not taught to control the bolting like wild horses under harness passions, why are we taught to be made of alibaster, be immovable maddonna-like? We are human. WE have blood and it boils, and I have an excess of testosterone on top of that and it makes me hot, oh so hot. And on my way back I could barely contain the pounding in my head and the horrible pain in my groin. I felt that it would get on fire between my legs, I would have myself rub on the pole. I breathed out sulfur and fire and imagined that one more notch up and I will go up in spontaneous combustion. The horror. The horror. I got home and did not even have the patience to look at some hot gay porn. I wanted to buy a huge can of chocalate ice cream, 2 six packs of beer and 3 packs of cigarrette and smoke and drink and eat and curse my hormones. But instead I remembered the moderation and settled for a small chocalate bar, a cup of coffee and some wholesome food. I then mastrurbated thinking about the guy, till I was half dead, and then got up and sat down to write this.
Chao.