My eyes open hesitantly - struggling to adjust to the early morning sun filtering in through the bedroom curtains. I let out a small groan as I reached across the nightstand at the side of the bed in an effort to turn the alarm clock in my direction so that I could see what time it was. I froze in mid-reach when my mind finally processed the fact that I was completely naked and in somebody else's bedroom. It came rushing back to me in a hurry why nearly every muscle in my body was protesting with my every movement. I slowly turned my head, hoping that it had all been a fevered dream.
It wasn't.
Lying next to me in the bed was the equally naked body of a man young enough to be one of my own children. He was still sound asleep. I thought to myself that it wasn't any wonder that he was still out like a light as the memories of our activities of last night drifted back to me.
He was lying on his back with the sheet pushed down to his waist. I was afraid to move so much as a single muscle as he slept peacefully. I needed some time to think. My eyes wandered down his sculpted body. I remembered how he had told me that he had always kept his entire body shaved. The results were really quite remarkable.
Did we really...?
I placed both of my hands over my lower face in a subconscious attempt to hide myself. It was almost funny -- here I was staring at this incredibly gorgeous young man that most women would have killed to be with and all I could think about was how much I wished that I could be almost anyplace else in the entire world.
You would think that by the age of forty-eight I had been around long enough to have a firm grasp of who I am and that I would have acquired enough common sense to keep myself out of potentially embarrassing situations. After all, I had survived twenty-five years of marriage and had raised four children before going through a rather painful divorce four years ago. Life, however, can still throw a curve ball at you when you least expect it.
Friday had been a completely normal day. The work day was winding down and I was looking forward to a nice relaxing weekend just like practically every other person in America. I work as a Teacher's Assistant in a second grade classroom; mostly working with children who need extra help with their reading. If you have ever worked with children, then you know hectic and tiring a job it can be. I loved working with the kids, but I really relished my time off for the rest and the opportunity to recharge my batteries.
When the bell finally sounded to end the day, I quickly busied myself with straightening out the classroom. Most days, I would take my time cleaning up because it was a nice time to visit with some of the other teachers that I had become quite friendly with since starting this job. Besides, what was the big hurry to return to a completely empty house with nobody to talk with?
My baby was now nineteen years old and in her first year of college. My next youngest was also away at school while my two oldest were married and living on their own. I was as proud of all four of them as any mother could ever be. I had been blessed with three of the most gorgeous grandchildren that you could ever hope to lay eyes on. My only complaint was that I was suffering from the dreaded "empty nest syndrome". I had been raising children since the age of twenty and I was having a lot of difficulty in adjusting to having nobody at home with me anymore.
I had taken this job last year in an attempt to get myself ready for the day when my youngest moved away to school. The pay was really lousy, but the hugs that I got from the children helped to make up for that somewhat. I had hoped that if I found a job, then I would have something new to fill my life when I no longer had any children of my own at home anymore. It had helped, but I didn't think that I could ever get used to eating my meals all alone every night.
I had made one other change in my life since Elizabeth had left for college and that one was proving to be just as much of a struggle for me -- I had started dating. Well, to put it more properly, I had been out on exactly three dates. That may not sound like much to you, but for someone who had been out of the dating scene since Jimmy Carter was in office, this was a significant step.
Not long after my divorce, I had dated one man for a few weeks. It had not been exactly a fairytale romance, I'm afraid to say. It had been a relationship based on two people using each other for their own means. We had each entered the relationship looking for nothing more than sex. He needed the sex for his own pleasure, while I was searching in vain for some kind of validation of my womanhood and desirability.
I am not proud of the way that I acted during that period of my life. However, the breakup of my marriage had left me feeling so rejected inside. I was desperate for any man to show some interest I me. It was definitely a codependent relationship -- and we certainly took every advantage to try find what we thought we both needed at the time.
Unfortunately, instead of finding the validation that I was searching for, I found myself feeling empty inside. I felt like such a tramp coming home very late at night filled with another man's seed deep inside me. I still had two children at home with me at the time and I came to the realization that I was not setting a very good example for either of them. I didn't date again for the next four years.
The few dates that I had been on since the beginning of the school year had been largely disappointing. This time around I was interested in finding someone that I shared things in common with -- someone that I could have a true relationship with. Unfortunately, all three evenings ended up pretty much the same way.
They would start out pleasant enough. The men had all been on their best behavior at the beginning of the evening. We would go to a nice restaurant for dinner and we would have a very pleasant conversation. Unfortunately, as the evening progressed, the pawing around would begin. It would usually start innocently enough -- maybe touching my hand at the table over our meal to emphasize some point he was trying to make or a hand on my back to lead me towards the door.
I didn't mind that part at all. I'm a normal, healthy adult. I would be lying if I told you that it didn't feel good to know that a man could still find me attractive enough to want to touch me or that I didn't miss the intimacy of a man/woman relationship. I may have taken myself out of circulation for the past four years, but that didn't mean that I still didn't feel the same desires that any other person felt for physical contact.
As the evenings progressed -- either going to a dance club or maybe back to his place -- the touching would become much more frequent. It would begin to seem to me that he was less interested in getting to know me and much more focused on seeing how far he could get in seducing his way inside my pants. I may have missed the intimacy of a relationship, but no woman wants to be fondled like a loaf of bread while on the dance floor with some man that she is just getting to know.
So, as I was cleaning up the classroom on Friday, it wasn't that I was looking forward to a romantic weekend with some mysterious lover. My plans revolved more around canning some strawberry preserves -- an annual activity that I took part in with my sister and mother. And, I bet that you thought the life of a forty-eight year old Teacher's Assistant was all bright lights and glamour, huh?
My plans began to unravel almost as soon as I walked in the door of my house. The phone was ringing and I hurried to answer it. I said hello and heard the voice of my sister, Janet on the other end.
"Hi San," she said, "Have you heard Mom's news yet?"
"No," I answered, "I just walked in the door. What's going on?"
Jan replied, "She's going away for the weekend."
I was stunned. Mom? Going away? "What are you talking about, Jan? Where in the world would she be going?"
"There's a whole group," Jan said, "from the Senior Center. They've rented a bus and they're going down to Connecticut to a casino for the weekend."
I burst out laughing. My mother hadn't left the state of Vermont during all of the years that I had been alive. And, gambling? My mother? Mom was the sort of person that thought that holding hands in public was some sort of sin! Janet surely must be putting me on.
As I gained some control over my laughter, Jan explained to me that it was all entirely true. In fact, the bus was probably already half of the way there as we spoke. "Mom said the funniest thing to me on the phone when she called to tell me about the trip, " Jan said. "When I asked her why she was doing this, she said ' I'm eighty-two years old and I thought it was high time that I let myself go a little wild.'".
This brought on another round of laughter from both of us, but in my heart I was happy for her. That woman had worked hard for her entire life and had never thought of herself first. She had always put my father and her children before her. I agreed with her -- It was high time that she had some fun.
"Well," I said, "It looks like it's just going to be the two of us this year, then."
