So, there we were, my former UPS man and I, holding hands on the park bench. A mosquito buzzed around his ear, annoying him. I shivered.
“Let’s sit in the car?” he asked.
He was still holding my hand, but instead of opening my car door, he leaned up against the car.
“Come here,” he said, and I was leaning against him.
We kissed, cautiously. Then we paused. I took a deep breath.
“Were you anticipating this a long time ago?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, laughing.
We kissed again, slower.
I was relaxed now, but this felt unbelievable. This was the moment I’d fantasized about over and over. How many times had I imagined his strong hands cradling my back like this? I’d thought so often about leaning into his body like this, and feeling him get hard against me. Now it was real. Or unreal.
But he was nervous now. His body seemed tense. I wondered if it had anything to do with that phone call.
“Let me rub your back,” I said, reaching behind his neck and massaging his shoulders.
He moaned softly, and we were kissing again.
I don’t know how long we stood there, leaning against his car, like this.
“It’s cold,” he said. “Let’s get in the car.”
He bent over the cup holder. I met him in the middle. This is where he really kissed me, gently and unhurried.
Then his phone buzzed again.
If he’d looked at his phone, and ignored it, I would have let it go.
No, he didn’t have a sitter that night: his daughter is in high school and she was with her mom. No, I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear that he had a regular booty call. As one reader, Legal Editor Mom, pointed out in her recent comment:
“If he looks as good as you say — and he’s as sweet as he seems — he must have some sort of ‘friend’ there, even if he isn’t married or in a committed relationship. Heck, if you still lived there, you’d probably be calling him, too!”
How true. But still, wasn’t this our time, our little private groove after-hours?
He let go of my knee and looked at his phone. He was focused on reading his text message.
“Excuse me,” he said. Then he turned away from me and started to type.
I looked at the clock on my phone. It was 1 a.m. If you think I was getting turned off, you’re right.
“Who’s that?” I said, teasing him.
“My young lady friend,” he said, still typing.
“Your young lady friend?”
Go ahead and think that I was jealous. But I wasn’t. Really. Instead, I felt like he was being disrespectful. Rude, in fact.
Of course, he had a young lady friend. But did he really have to sort this out in the middle of our kiss?
“I’m not tied to anyone,” he said.
I didn’t say anything, but I was shutting down. Fine, he had a booty call waiting for him. But couldn’t he deal with this later?
Do you think I was overreacting?
Image from Cafe Press
Update: As Ms. Single Mama points out, that T-shirt doesn’t fit this post. It should probably say something like, “Do You Have a UPS Man Who Doesn’t Deliver?”
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