speaking of poor taste...
So, I ended up spending last night with the widower. I managed to wheedle out of the night with Ms. Kidmanesque (who is beginning to earn completely new nicknames: PsychoSappho [thanks matt] and WhinyAssBitch [thanks laura]). Instead, I had planned on spending the night with Mr. LiveMusicFreak, following dinner with the widower.
During Mexican dinner, and half way thru my second patron margarita, the Widower dropped the bomb. “Erica,” he said, “I’d really like for you to come spend the night with me.”
I tried as many ways as possible to tell him I already had plans, but every protest was met with some resistance.
“but I already have plans with Mr. LiveMusicFreak!”
“wouldn’t you be more comfortable sleeping in my bed than on a couch?” he replied.
“who said anything about a couch?” I asked, batting my eyelashes.
“I don’t want you sleeping with dickhead”
…
this went on for another margarita at least. Finally, deciding that I do like the widower, and would like to cultivate a future with him, I excuse myself to call Mr. LMF.
“I’m having a moral dilemma here! I’m out to dinner with the widower, and he would very much like to spend the evening with me, but I know I already have plans with you…”
He nearly cut me off to jump in, sounding all relieved and saying ‘GREAT! Well, I’m having a moral dilemma of my own here. The ex is flying into town tomorrow, and I think it might be in somewhat poor taste to spend this evening with you then pick her up tomorrow!”
Convenient for me, but Christ! Poor taste? Worrying about what you’re doing the night before your EX girlfriend flies into town? The one you’re supposedly over?
Oh well. The night spent with the widower was interesting, to say the least.
We had our usual mediocre sex. It’s funny, he cracks me up. He sounds like a broken record whilst fucking. “Your pussy is so hot and wet, you know that?” “You feel so good, you know that?” I can’t count how many times I’ve heard those phrases! Its hard not to scream “YES, I KNOW THAT! YOU TELL ME 3 OR 4 TIMES EVERYTIME WE FUCK!”
Later, we talked about his late wife. Most interesting tidbit? She died, at home. In their bed. Where we’ve slept and fucked and cuddled and….
That one weighed heavy on my mind while I tried to drift off to sleep on her side of the bed, I tell you.
During Mexican dinner, and half way thru my second patron margarita, the Widower dropped the bomb. “Erica,” he said, “I’d really like for you to come spend the night with me.”
I tried as many ways as possible to tell him I already had plans, but every protest was met with some resistance.
“but I already have plans with Mr. LiveMusicFreak!”
“wouldn’t you be more comfortable sleeping in my bed than on a couch?” he replied.
“who said anything about a couch?” I asked, batting my eyelashes.
“I don’t want you sleeping with dickhead”
…
this went on for another margarita at least. Finally, deciding that I do like the widower, and would like to cultivate a future with him, I excuse myself to call Mr. LMF.
“I’m having a moral dilemma here! I’m out to dinner with the widower, and he would very much like to spend the evening with me, but I know I already have plans with you…”
He nearly cut me off to jump in, sounding all relieved and saying ‘GREAT! Well, I’m having a moral dilemma of my own here. The ex is flying into town tomorrow, and I think it might be in somewhat poor taste to spend this evening with you then pick her up tomorrow!”
Convenient for me, but Christ! Poor taste? Worrying about what you’re doing the night before your EX girlfriend flies into town? The one you’re supposedly over?
Oh well. The night spent with the widower was interesting, to say the least.
We had our usual mediocre sex. It’s funny, he cracks me up. He sounds like a broken record whilst fucking. “Your pussy is so hot and wet, you know that?” “You feel so good, you know that?” I can’t count how many times I’ve heard those phrases! Its hard not to scream “YES, I KNOW THAT! YOU TELL ME 3 OR 4 TIMES EVERYTIME WE FUCK!”
Later, we talked about his late wife. Most interesting tidbit? She died, at home. In their bed. Where we’ve slept and fucked and cuddled and….
That one weighed heavy on my mind while I tried to drift off to sleep on her side of the bed, I tell you.
posted by erica looking at 3:06 PM
2 Comments:
hmm, sleeping in the same bed that the dead spouse had previously occupied would irk me a little. I'm not sure that I could even do it, if I was to spend the night with a widow, especially one whose spouse died in the house, I'd have to invite them over. Then again, I suppose I'm not as normal as other people. :D Good posts though, always a pleasure to read.
If there's one thing I'm NOT its normal. :) Thanks for the comments. Makes me feel like posting more often knowing people enjoy.
A few people have said 'of course he bought a new mattress, his wife died there - but I sort of think when you loose your wife to cancer her loss is everywhere- the whole house.. and what would be any more significant about the exact spot where her life (thankfully) finally left her?
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