Urban Mermaidz

Next day. He calls me after receiving my “story” about our encounter the night before. He says he was blushing the whole time he read it. He says he wasn’t aware of the chemistry between us and was confused by my clumsy lip kiss the night before. But now he’s reconsidering. Re-thinking. Re-tracing.

“Your writing is refreshing. Honest. It took a lot of courage to send to me…that was definitely a turn-on.”

I can feel the heat through the phone. Even his voice sends me into giddy shivers.

“Well, we should do it again sometime,” I say.

“Tonight?”

“Um, maybe. I am going to yoga. It will be over at 8.”

“I’m going to see ‘Slumdog Millionaire,’” he says. “It should be over around 9. Is that too late? I’ll be in Aventura.”

“I live near Aventura,” I say, but then I wonder if we will end up on my sofa. No, it’s too soon. Too early. Get to know him better before it becomes sexual, I say to myself. But I know by seeing him tonight I’m already walking into Pandora’s Box.

He calls at 9:39. I am lying in my pajamas watching “Witchblade.”

He suggests going to the Shoreclub. “Or maybe we can just get a bite?” This sounds better to me. We did the South Beach thing last night. I want to know more about how I feel alone with him. He says he’ll be here in 10 minutes.

I throw on a pair of jeans and a sweater. It’s cold outside so I wear my boots and scarf. My jacket is missing buttons, and my sweater and jeans have holes. I just washed my hair after yoga. I will leave it messy. But I do put on a little eyeliner and powder…it’s not nice to be a complete ragamuffin…although I haven’t had a manicure or pedicure in years. On Planet MyAmi, where every Urban Mermaid is coiffed to the nines, I like being a little bit messy. Because in the end, it’s my mind that is my strongest superpower.

He pulls up to my condo building in his sporty car. I chuckle at the juxtaposition of the car and my blue collar ‘hood. It’s these contrasts that I love the most about Planet MyAmi.

I am where I am supposed to be. And he’s taking me for an adventure.

We drive down Miss Biscayne first.

Then up Miss Biscayne.

The nervousness hits me unexpectedly. Hey! What happened to my centered, zen thing? I find myself worrying about where we will go. What if we go to a bad restaurant and then all the momentum built up from last night fizzles into…much ado about nada nada nada??? Ay. Shit.

I decide to leave the choosing up to him. I did my whole assertive power woman thing last night. Tonight, I’ll let him be in charge. If I have faith in him, I can follow with confidence.

We pull into a strip mall that I’ve passed on many occasions, but never felt compelled to explore. OK. I will follow.

We check the doors — they are closed. I feel a sense of relief. We’re about to get back into the car when a waiter comes running outside saying, “We’re open, we’re open!”

Back inside, we’re about to sit, when Sharky B says, “Maybe we can just look at a menu.” He takes a glance and says, “Nah. I don’t think so. Maybe next time.”

We leave and he tells me that’s why so many restaurants don’t do well. “You’ve got one guy who’s doing his job and another saying, ‘We’re about to close man, what are you doing?’”

I hadn’t even noticed this, but it all makes sense. It’s the story of Planet MyAmi - yin and yang out of whack. But I am just following his lead. Letting him make the decisions. My brain turned off. I smile to myself.

We keep driving and he happened to mention he loves Thai food, and I spot a restaurant off the Causeway. It is appropriate to speak up now. So I do.

Turns out they are open until 11. The sweet waitress takes our order immediately. We eat Tom Yom Gong…J orders Pad Thai.

“You’ll never believe what I found today,” he says.

“What?”

“Well, I’ll show you later.”

Later?

We learn how to say, “Thank you” in Thai. “Khorb koon” if you are a man. “Khorb ka” if you are a woman.

He is a man.  I am a woman. Yang and yin. We are in sync.

Our conversation is limited. Not as lively as the night before…but I don’t care. The conversationalist doesn’t care for a change. Because just being with him seems to be enough. I have plenty of time to get to know him. To hear his stories. I’m no longer interested in talking for the sake of talking. Silence allows the other senses to do their job. I am focused on the taste of my soup. I am focused on the warmth of my tea. This must be the Virgo in me.

He likes the sticky rice with mango I ordered. I tell him that I am not much of a cook but I enjoy making desserts.

“Coconut flan. Pumpkin flan. Vanilla flan. Pine nut pie. Strawberry empanadas.”

Am I trying to impress him? Yes. I shut myself up.

Our meal is over too soon. We get into his car. Maybe his surprise will prolong our meeting.

“What was it that you found today?”

“Oh,” he says, and reaches for something underneath his seat. He hands a pink package to me.

“What is it?”

“A dildo,” he says. I laugh. But I’m also surprised because the gentleman moved into porn territory. But it’s obviously not a dildo. And if I’m that uptight that I can’t take a joke, then I don’t belong in public.

It is dark, so I can’t read the writing on the package. A glimmer of light from the street illuminates the words, “Pink Sugar.”

I laugh. “Oh! Wow!” I am surprised. I am delighted. I am floored that he thought of me…in such a way that…he might actually “get” me. This gift shouldn’t mean so much. But it does. He is so smooth.

He is driving back to my condo now to drop me off. I wonder if we will kiss. Yes. We will kiss.

He pulls up behind my Dragonfly. I turn to face him like a big nerd and say, “OK, I won’t do the clumsy lip thing this time.”

Before I know it, I’m leaning into him, my foot pushing into the passenger door. His lips are thick. He opens his mouth but his tongue doesn’t come out. Just lips. And that thing happens to me. The roller coaster dip down into the belly and then loop, loop, loop before speeding down to my toes. And back again. And forward again. He bites my lower lip and I moan. Uh oh. Oh no. It’s over. I’m done for. I will keep going.

But then he stops. Still the gentleman. Giving me a taste of him. Letting me give him a taste of me. I’m still a lady. I say something nerdy again, like, “OK, thank you. Until next time…” and I step out of his world and into mine.

He drives off this time without waiting for me to go inside. I search my bag for my keys. They are not there. Oh! They must have dropped into his car!

I call him. “You have to come back,” I say. “My keys are in your car.”

I sit on the stoop and I wonder what it all means.

He pulls up smiling. “Come. Let’s go to my place. We’ll watch a movie.”

I hesitate. A movie means sex. I am not ready.

“Don’t be scared,” he says. “I’m not going to rape or kill you!”

“Oh, I’m not worried about you.”

I’m worried about me. When I like someone I like someone. When I don’t like someone, I don’t. And it is so rare. There’s timing. There’s circumstances. There’s energy and chemistry to consider. The math is right. My keys leaped out of my purse because I was supposed to continue my adventure with Sharky B.