From Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 1, Winter Season (CHAPTER 9: ACCIDENTAL)
Still in traffic and not even two-thirds of the way home, I start looking around my car for something to keep me occupied: reading material, leftover food, a CD I haven’t listened to a hundred times, anything.
I notice a duffel bag behind the passenger seat.
I reach around and grab it, and unzip it to examine its contents. Mud-ridden sneakers…were those from the time The Ex and I went hiking in Griffith Park and it started raining? Black sweatpants cut off at the knee—I’m pretty sure I cut those off for the hike. A beat-up old grey t-shirt…the t-shirt The Ex had to change out of because it got so wet. A glass pipe lined with black pot residue, because we decided to wait out the rain in my car and needed something to do.
We ended up getting stoned, then horny, and then making out like two teenagers on their parents basement couch in front of a rented movie. Finally he reclined the passenger seat as I whipped out his dick and he ripped off my sweatpants so we could screw our brains out.
I feel a churning in the pit of my stomach as the details of the event flood into my head. I bury my nose in the t-shirt and inhale, wondering if I can still smell The Ex. I fear a moment of weakness coming on.
But it doesn’t; the t-shirt smells like mildew.
An image of Mr. Smyth flashes in my head instead, and I think about our date again, and about how he called me the next night to ask how my day at work had gone, and to tell me what an amazing time he’d had with me, and how forward he was looking to next time.
Mr. Smyth is wonderful. A relationship with him really would be better. It would be a clean slate. No emotional baggage. No tormenting doubt. No heartbreaking history.
I am going to get over The Ex. There are other fish in the sea: bigger fish, more colorful fish, more understanding fish—ones that know how to screw just as good as The Ex.
I decide it’s time I cleaned out my car.
To Be Continued…
Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 1, Winter Season by Dorota Skrzypek.
Copyright 2007 by Dorota Skrzypek.
All Rights Reserved.
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