Brief encounter

I was intimate last night. With a woman, not sexually, not even touchingly, just our thoughts crossed until they formed a synergy of pleasure. Strange, but real. I’m not making it up.

I knew her from a course a while ago. Today at the market I met her. We walked together to a café, there in ten minutes I told her what I had hidden from my best friend for ten years. It was as if she stole her ideas from me, as if she knew me even before I knew her. She claimed to be my male counterpart and I would be her redeeming female counterpart. I had never thought about this before, but yeah, why not, she looked great. An intense, intimate conversation followed. I lost the hour and myself in the increasingly seductive words of her, or him.

At the same time, a guilt that haunted me from my past overwhelmed me, she wanted to heal me, while I felt myself floating in the smell of gallons of beer. I felt good and bad at the same time. Then, she had to go.

We said goodbye and decided to see each other again in two days. She would come in the early morning, because she wanted to interview me for some course, on male emancipation. I felt honoured, but not emancipated. I was long past that stage.

I wanted more.