We started out with pleasantries—gossip, biographical tidbits, things we'd been reading, just two old friends catching up. But the conversation turned personal somewhere into our second beer. We talked about the ups and downs of our six-year relationship, the strangeness of dating and sleeping with other people, the emptiness of making out with strangers at parties. Our friends had encouraged it of both of us, and I told him it always made me feel that much more alone. He nodded understandingly; I'd forgotten what a relief it was to have a conversation with someone who always knew what I was talking about. Two hours passed in a blur, and as our intimacy deepened, I was glad I had a reason to leave. Nerve: How Mosquitos Doomed Our Sex Life
He insisted on walking me to the next bar. I was grateful for the lingering June light as we dawdled in front and shared a long goodbye embrace; there were no shadows or dark corners to get lost in. I savored his closeness, but then remembered myself and quickly took my leave. Inside, I found my friends and made my way over to them in the dimness. They were suspicious of my buoyant mood (they'd been expecting tears, venom, the usual), but were cautiously happy for me when I told them how well things had gone. Someone handed me a beer. Someone else started telling me about her new boyfriend. Soon I was wholly caught up in the social whirlwind, and was on my next drink by the time I noticed I had a new text message. That was such a nice talk. Thank you. Nerve: Is 29 Old Enough To Be A Cougar?
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I smiled, then checked to see if anyone was watching. They were not. I decided to test the boundaries. I'm gonna admit this to you in the spirit of honesty. I seriously thought about trying to have breakup sex with you, but it seemed way too self-destructive.
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He texted back immediately. Yeah I thought about it too. You're looking good these days. But I agree. Too much attached.