“I have to give you a word and you have to give me a word and we repeat our words until our brains start to release everything. I think I heard it’s better to meditate with others. Something about energy. There’s like vibrations or something.”

We made the decision to meditate together earlier that evening during dinner at A16. We finished the figs and prosciutto, made it through the pizza, and were wrapping up the pork chop when I proclaimed in sincere excitement, “Let’s meditate together!”

“Ok. Your word is ‘Scrytak.'”

“I already have a word.”

“I thought I have to give you a word.”

“My therapist gave me a word a long time ago. That’s my word for life.”

“Wait…what? Where’s the fun in that? You can’t change it? What is it?”

“It’s a secret! Maybe you can change it….I don’t know. I’ve just always used it.”

“I’m so bummed….ok…I’ll get over it. What’s my word?”

“Slobee.”

 

We went to the basement, played with the light switches in the bathroom, laundry area, and main room until we got the “mood” right, then he asked if he should light a candle.

“I love candles. YES.”

“I have this one.”

It was cinnamon.

“No thank you. I changed my mind. I’ve had too many cinnamon candles in my day. Pass.”

I took the candle from him and set it aside.

“I don’t want to face you, is that ok?”

“You can face wherever you want.”

We both sat on the carpet and I directed my body away from him, towards the stereo equipment. He sat behind me and faced my back.

“Ok, ready?”

“Ready.”

“Start.”

Slobee. Slobee. Slobee. Slobee. Slobee.

After the word lost its interest, meditating didn’t seem too different than daydreaming for me. I thought about a bunch of things in order of priority. First I thought about whether or not I was going to have sex with him and how I was going to turn him down if I didn’t. We talked about celibacy over dinner and how I thought that was a healthy direction for him to take at this point in his life. I thought about the other date I had a few hours earlier…did the guy purposely change his skin color on his profile picture? And he was SO much better looking in person. What a rarity and pleasure. I thought about the things that people do to numb themselves when they are in pain.

Me. He wanted to      do      me.

I felt my body fall backwards but I was still sitting upright. This happened several times.

“Time’s up.”

“What? I thought we were going to do it for 20 minutes.”

“That was 15 minutes.”

“That was only like 5 minutes! Things done in silence always feel longer. We totally didn’t do it long enough.”

“Yeah we did, yeah we did. I used to do this a lot. I have a great sense of time. That was fifteen minutes.”

We stretched ourselves out on the carpet and talked about our experiences. I told him I was about ready to nod off. He thought he actually did nod off.

We moved around a lot and ended up on the futon. Clothes shifted. Skin got wet. “We’re practicing celibacy tonight,” I whispered. He took it well.

“If you’re tired let’s move to the bedroom before we get too comfortable here,” and we did.

I jumped right into the covers fully clothed, and as he undressed he laughed in disbelief, “Ahahaha! You’re seriously going to sleep with your clothes on? Who does that?”

“I DO! Every day just about. I hate getting up any earlier than I have to so I sleep in whatever I’m going to wear the next day.”

“Reaaalllllly?”

“Uh huh.”

“You are NOT sleeping with your clothes on.”

He got undressed in front of me and I watched. He was much larger than I was expecting him to be. His face is slim and long, and I knew he had muscle, but I was expecting a swimmer’s body…water poloist…something like that. He was bigger. It was nice. And he said he used to be even more buff. I’m glad I missed that part of his life because his head would’ve looked very out of proportion.

Amazing, classic, “man” bodies are something I don’t get a lot of in life. Luckily, this sugar daddy venture has blessed me with many beautiful bodied men in the past few weeks. I’m almost solely attracting handsome, athletic men. He’s one of them. He didn’t hang one thing up. It was all on the floor.

He was right. I was NOT sleeping with my clothes on…he made sure of it. More skin got wet and we continued to practice celibacy (I think) until I made a bit too much noise and shook too much. It all went downhill from there.

I enjoy bringing men a warm towel afterward so I did that and we went to sleep. He snored but only a tad. It was the first time I’ve been able to fall asleep with a new person. I’m never able to do that.

The morning brought round two, breakfast, “Radical Forgiveness,” and more heavy conversation. I almost cried. He looked sad most of last night and a good chunk of this morning. Talking about his kids takes him to that place. Listening to him worry for his kids takes me to that place with him.

He asked to hang out this weekend. I enjoy my time with him, but it’s HEAVY stuff, and I’m not getting paid beyond being treated to dinner.

I told him I was accepting other offers and would be tight on time in the future. He apologized for not being able to offer anything and I told him I understood his position and his priorities. “I’m a millionaire on paper but half of that is legal fees right now. I guess I have a lot in stocks, too — ” “That’s fine. No explanation needed.”

He doesn’t seem to care about what I do with my time, he only wants to offer his.

“Well, I’m available this weekend. I’ll be here.”

“Well, I probably won’t be available. Reach out to your other ladies for company.”

We hugged and he whispered, “There are no others. It’s just me.”