Phone Sex

I am discovering that the biggest drawback to being single is sex. Or lack thereof.

Not that things had been all that hoppin' when I wasn't single. Don't get me wrong. Dear X was more than satisfactory...when we actually did it. Which had been less and less often the last couple of years. In fact, I have only had sex six times in all of 2005 and two times it wasn't even with him (it happened after the big denouement in early August). Suffice it to say, I'm horny.

As a matter of fact, I'm hornier now than I have been in years. And I can't attribute it to sudden singleness. It started months ago. I wonder if this is a function of being in the throes of menopause? If so, three cheers for menopause!

But my options are few. I live in a very small town, surrounded by other small towns, in which I am well known. Professionally. So I can't very well start trolling the local bars. Not that I really want to, knowing what I know about the candidate pool around here.

There is a guy. I've known him forever and we had a pretty hot and heavy thing, on and off, for several years. When we met, he was a local guy living in Florida. My sister Patty lived in the same town and was friends with him. I'd go down there every year for a month or so and Mo and I would set each other on fire and then I'd go home. He's back in PA now, still single and currently unattached. The last time I saw him (about a year ago) was at Patty's restaurant. We ran into each other at the bar and had a nice flirtatious chat. Apparently, there is some kind of weird electricity or chemistry between us still because the bartender and a couple of waitresses asked Patty if I had something going with him. My friend Karla, who I was having drinks with at the time, came right out and said it was a good thing X wasn't there as the atmosphere between Mo and I was smoldering.

I sure could handle some smoldering. So why haven't I contacted him, you say. Good question. The big problem: I don't have his phone number and he isn't listed. I never asked for his number because I was with X at the time and, well, it wasn't really a name and number I wanted written in my address book for X to find. So I talked to Patty and told her to urge him to call me if he came into the restaurant. I also have his mother's phone number. She knows we are old friends and would probably not think a thing of my calling for his number. But I am reluctant to be that bold. That's a last resort. I may go to his old high school's football game. I am told he attends every one. A distinct possibility but not a sure thing. I'll need a good excuse to be there and I currently have none. Whatever happens, this is obviously more of a long term project and there are urgent needs to be satisfied.

So, let's look at the short term. And that means TR. Ah, TR! Remember how I said I'd had sex twice that wasn't with X? It was the one night (and morning) I spent with TR. A former next door neighbor who now resides in Philly. He was in town for a visit just as everything blew up with X, with the result being X ran away to Boston for a long weekend and I was left alone, devastated and feeling quite old and unattractive. You have to understand that there is some complexity and delicacy in the issue of TR. Because he was/is friends with both of us. But TR and I have had a little closer relationship than his with X. That's because, for about four years, he was my Friday night date. And that doesn't mean what you think.

X is a high school football fiend. He goes to a game every Friday night in the fall. Totally understandable due the quality of high school football in Western PA. But I like to go to "my bar," the Corner Grill, on Fridays. Since TR was in the midst of his divorce and he hung out there on Fridays, I went and hung out with him. He kept the riffraff away from me and vice versa. X, TR, everyone at the bar, and I joked about our Friday night dates. We had a lot of fun together, did a little harmless flirting, and talked a lot. We got close.

During TR's last visit, I made excuses for X's absence and we went for a booze cruise on Paul and Karen's vessel. We laughed, cruised the Ohio, and drank oodles of frozen mudslides. When we got home, more than a little drunk, we started to talk. I spilled it all and cried like an idiot. It sounds more creepy than it was, but...well, you know what can happen when you're drunk, upset, and a good looking man a decade younger comforts you. It was completely mutual, very hot, a little confusing, and just what I needed.

I didn't regret it when I woke up. I was a little apprehensive as to whether he would in the cold light of day. But when his eyes opened, I knew he didn't. In fact, it was even hotter the second time. I still shiver just thinking about it. But that was almost two months ago.

We've kept in close touch. We email. We flirt a little in the emails (don't want to be too graphic as we both are using work networks). I call or text message him during Eagles games and he does the same during Steeler games. I fantasize about our one night and wonder if he does the same. Until one night when I find out that he does.

And how appropriate is it that the night in question was a Friday? During a Steeler game? I was little buzzed sitting at the bar and we were texting each other, teasing about football, when he made a passing reference to our "night." I let him know how often I thought of it. There was at least a 20 minute pause before I got the next text message: "Give me a couple of days but think of me ******* your *****. How you **** for me." Whoa! OK!

Three days later, I got another text message: "I want to *** you for hours and give you the ******** you deserve. I'll call you tomorrow night." Whoa again! I spent the next 24 hours tingling with anticipation.

How did I get to the age of 47 without ever knowing the joys of phone sex? We've done it twice now. In fact, we did it just last night. I didn't know until now how much I like being talked dirty to or how much I like to talk dirty. I didn't know until now how exciting description can be. I didn't know until now that imagination can be a close facsimile to the real thing. I didn't know until now that the telephone can be the best sex toy ever.

At least until I can have the real thing. One way or another.