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the wingman chronicles
We don’t want just relationships, and we don’t want just sex. What we truly want are commitment-free moments.
Relationships and dirty random hookups could be wonderful things. Dirty random hookups have always been more my forte. However, we really long for that boyfriend-girlfriend experience — but it has an expiration date.
Who doesn’t covet an impassioned connection, stellar conversation, some tomfoolery with someone who feels like they’re our best friend? Who doesn’t love the warm sensation we get when we look into someone’s eyes, romantically hug and kiss slowly before it transitions into sloppy touching, nibbling, biting and banging that actually means something? How awesome is it afterward, when we hold each other never wanting to leave their arms, knowing there are true feelings between us?
Then we go do our own thing, whore around — we’re single and don’t have to worry about the chaining boredom that occurs with 80 to 90 percent of all relationships. Like any addictive TV show, we always leave each other wanting more.
After almost a year apart, at times hating each other or at least pretending that we did, my ex-girlfriend and I have been enjoying some noncommittal romance with each other. And those moments feel so much better than random ass. We’ll get together once a week, grab something to eat, goof off, make fun of people, hug, kiss, cuddle and have sex. I have the girlfriend experience for three hours a week. Could you imagine a better way to defile?
Do I totally trust her? Of course not. She’s a lying, cheating, vindictive trollop who I often refer to as the black angel of death. And she admits she doesn’t believe a word I say.
But for those moments, I do trust her. It’s like buying a lap dap dance from a stripper you feel like you connect with, knowing full well that if you’re not too careful she’ll steal your wallet. Still, you enjoy the conversation she has with you as she blows in your ear while she vehemently gyrates against your crotch.
Both the ex and I are certainly polyamorous, but goddamn we don’t wanna know. We also try to avoid hanging out in bars and clubs together. I know a lot of girls, she knows a lot of guys, we’re both flirtatious, and we’re both very jealous when it comes to each other. So in order to stay away from any violent standoffs involving broken glass, lately we’ve been sticking to sushi, chain restaurants and watching DVDs.
Moments like ours — like when I bust her because she says she doesn’t ever touch her food but then eats sushi rolls with her hands — can’t be forced. They must occur naturally from a genuine connection between two people.
Despite sending me Miley Cyrus and Lady Gaga songs that remind her of me (“Seven Things” and “Bad Romance”), after hooking up last week in the parking lot of a Wilkes-Barre establishment, right after we got her foot unstuck from between my driver’s seat and console, I looked into her eyes and we kissed.
ME: “You’re amazing.”
HER: “You’re getting too boyfriend-y.”
ME: “You just went down on me. Would you prefer I said ‘Thanks, whore … How much do I owe you?’”
Without a little arguing, it wouldn’t be a relationship experience.
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