Visiting Portland

It's been a long time since I've been able to show anybody around my town. And it's been never that I've gotten to show somebody around my adopted home who actually had the same sense of pleasure and sensuality that I do. There's something really awesome about being able to take somebody somewhere that you love, knowing that they're going to love it too, and for the same reasons you do.

I recently had a friend of sorts come up and visit. This is somebody I grew up with, and somebody who I've always had an intense connection with. I have vivid memories of having conversations with this guy as a teenager, and feeling a mental connection that I had no context for. I had a hard time, as a young adult, making mental connections with other human beings. I don't know if I thought I was too smart for them all, or too stupid. Regardless, this particular connection taught me that they were POSSIBLE. That I could relate to other human beings, that I could enjoy conversations, that I could talk about nerdy, esoteric things and actually be understood... It was a leap forward for my social skills. :D

He was quite a bit older than me, and I had a big ol' crush on him, all of which contributed to it being a small leap forward, quickly followed by an extremely awkward leap backwards as I was physically attracted to him and absolutely terrified of that. But still. Good memories.

We reconnected recently, online. I reconnected with his wife at the same time, who I love. They're freaking adorable. She came out to visit a month or so ago, and we had an amazing time. I haven't connected so quickly, and so deeply, to someone in a long time.

And he came out last week, for a long weekend of sensual pursuit. It's hard to explain our interaction with each other. It's hard to explain my relationship with him and his wife. So I'm not going to try. :D I'll leave it a mystery, and you can infer what you will.

We stayed at a hotel, the Vintage Plaza, downtown on Broadway. There's something very fun about staying in a nice hotel when you normally stay in Motel 6s and hostels. A part of me thinks I should be uncomfortable at the fact that the doormen are FAR better dressed than I am. And a part of me smugly shoots a middle finger at the petty bourgeois swanking about in their middle class finery, enjoying the knowledge of how much more artsy than them I am. And ANOTHER part of me just jumps up and down and giggles at the HUGE FUCKING BATHTUB I'm about to get to use. WITH JETS!

The room itself is lovely. No windows, but a huge skylight over an intimate little sitting area with a lovely couch and an "honor" bar. An "honor" bar that will break your bank if so much as look at it funny. The bed is gorgeous, if a tad soft. Appropriate for the thin skinned namby pambies who must normally stay here, the proletariat whispers in my head.

And the bathroom... oh, the bathroom. Did I mention the HUGE FUCKING TUB, henceforth to be known as the HFT? No? It shut the proletariat right up, I tell you what. Even that smug bastard couldn't say anything bad about that particular gorgeous luxury. I had a hard time not hopping in the bath right away.

But, there were other things to be done. A city to be explored. A first kiss to be made. It's funny, how scary some things become, how much power they're given with time. Kissing isn't scary. I have these great memories of first kisses. Hopping on top of a giggling woman sitting in a chair in my living room, that first smooch with laughter and gin on our tongues, morphing into passion quickly but starting with lighthearted ease. That first kiss in my backyard, watching him walk up the path through the very early morning sunshine, vibrating with a tension made of equal parts fear and intense sexual frustration, the awkward hello, the peck on the cheek that, with a simple twist of the head turns into a roaring kiss that lifts me off my feet.

Oh. First kisses are wonderful, especially when they mean something. This first kiss no less so. I was tempted to think of it as something to get out of the way, because it was standing in between us like a giant, woolly mammoth in the room. I honestly didn't WANT it to mean too much, either. That sort of power, the kind that makes your hands shake and your skin vibrate, is scary. I haven't liked feeling breathlessly nervous in a long time, since it's how I spent pretty much every moment from the age of 15 till about 25. I mean, butterflies in your stomach are all well and good, but I've preferred feeling calm, comfortable and collected in my interactions with men and dealing with sex since learning that I was actually capable of doing so.

So, I both didn't want to give this first kiss too much power and significance, while at the same time I didn't want to denigrate the importance of it. So I pushed it. I brought it up, and I walked over to this man who I've had a connection with since I was basically a child, took his face in my hands, and kissed him. And it was like all of my tension (maybe our tension) flowed out of my lips and through his body, to melt away into the ether. I was instantly comfortable. It was a lovely kiss, but what it meant was almost more important than how it felt. It melted away a barrier that would have impeded so much fun. And oh, was there fun to be had.

But this post is already ridiculously long, so the rest will have to wait for next time.