The Spinster Gets Laid

The Invisible Spinster had a visitor this week.

A man I had been corresponding with online for a few months flew across the country to see me for a few days. A Marine stationed in California, he can satisfy the brain as well as the eyes. I was a little startled when he first suggested a visit soon, but when I consulted Mrs. Smoochy about the idea she said his type tended to favor Decisive Action and not to be surprised at his wanting to move things forward. So I allowed him to come.

Having spent the last few days with him, I am not quite sure what to make of things. By previous mutual agreement he slept in my room from the first night. Now, don't go getting the wrong idea about the Spinster because of that. Not every internet suitor is allowed that priviledge. But sometimes you just know there isn't going to be that awkwardness (and I was right, too). After cuddling amicably for much of the night it was not much of a surprise when things got amorous. Mr. Marine certainly had his talents and made much use of them over the next several days.

This sort of situation as a whole sends my feminism into paroxysms. In one corner is the Modern Woman; she works like a man, eats like a man, fucks with the same impunity as a man. Duking it out in the other corner is the Traditional Woman; she knows damn well true sexual parity is a chimera at best -- a woman can't "drop trou" with the same speed as a man and expect to be respected.

I think TW may win this particular fight. Modern Woman had an early lead because this visit was for a Limited Time Only, and being coy would have gotten us nowhere but sexually frustrated. Somehow that concession seems to have lost in the long run.

When I dropped Mr. Marine off at the airport, here is what I did not get: an embrace, a kiss, declarations of affection or at the very least a declaration of an enjoyable few days. What I did get: a quick one-armed 'side hug' and a mumble that I think translated to "I'll call you in a few days".

I am confused and saddened that he could go from being inside me and moaning my name in ecstasy to saying goodbye like that in a matter of hours. We shall see what becomes of him, but I will always be . . . .

The Invisible Spinster