Being the Mouse
“I want both” he types.
Both what I ask, then I realize, he wants to see me both days, two days in a row this week, we are only meeting for the first time the first day. I tell him not to get ahead of himself. I try not to be pleased. Pleased with this man who says he is thinking of me all day. I know men do this now. They are strong at pursuit but lack the stamina. I need a marathon runner.
The first time we meet he stays strong in his pursuit, I think optimistically maybe I can settle in for a while with this one, maybe I can let my guard down. Frankly I am just a little bit tired. So I do. I let him in. I let my boundaries dissolve a little. I take him at face value.
I like his hands in my hair. Hearing him moan as I take him in my mouth. I like how he touches me. I try not to worry when it feels like we don’t come together easy. When I feel like I have to ask for what I want. We are new. It takes time. We go for dinner.
He messages me from the airport. He messages me while he is away. Every message is fine. What is it I am looking for?
Yet I know. I know his language is not quite the same. I know the experience of being the caught prey that no longer holds his full gaze. I have been the mouse held idly in the cat’s paw before. I won’t stay here long.