Intimate Bodies

Are you awake?

I am.

I don’t normally do this. I don’t text boys late at night. And I certainly don’t do it when they cancel on me. I was supposed to be in his bed right now, but I wasn’t. Abraham and I had plans for this evening, but he canceled saying he was still sick. We had been talking about him being sick for the past four days, so I know he really did just want a good night’s sleep. Which made me feel even weirder about contacting him.

My university just announced that they have tickets to Saturday’s football game. They are going on sale on a first-come basis tomorrow at 9 a.m. You said you wanted to go to one of my games... do you want to go this weekend?

Normally I would love to, but I can’t. I’m heading out of town to my own football game. I thought I told you. :(

So then and there we made plans for as soon as he got back and before I went out of town.

***

I followed Abraham into his bedroom and he shut the door. It was a random weekday night. I headed to his place after I cooked dinner and spent time with the dog.

We had never done this: hanging out at his place without first going to the bar. We sat Indian-style on the end of his bed facing each other. We looked at each other and sighed. After polite how are yous, he kissed me. I still love the first kiss of each day.

"I need extra hugs and kisses tonight," I said. "It's been a bullshit-y week."

"What about me?" he whined. His trip out of town did not go as planned. As soon as he got back, he told me that he wished he had stayed and gone to my game instead.

“That’s right. Tell me about your trip.”

We sat there facing each other Indian-style at the end of his bed talking. He told me about his trip and all of its disappointments. As he told me about his flight, I extended my hand to his thigh to comfort him. He reciprocated with his hand on my knee. As he reached to scratch his neck, he laid his left hand on my knee so we were always in constant contact. It was endearing.

He finished his story and sighed. I sighed as well.

“So tell me about your week,” he said.

“It’s just so... bullshit-y. I’m sorry there’s not a better word for it. Nothing bad has happened, just a lot of little grievances that added up. The work thing I told you about, it’s been three weeks now and I feel like nothing is resolved. Ugh.” I leaned forward from my spot on the bed and stuck my face in his shoulder.

He patted my head. Then he fingered my hair. “I like your pigtails,” he said.

My face was still buried in his shoulder. “You do?” I said muffled.

“Yeah,” he twisted one of my pigtails and flipped it around. I don’t know what it is about pigtails that boys love so much, but every time I wear them, they always comment on them.

Outside of his bedroom we heard laughter. Abraham explained that it was his roommate and his neighbor. I’m not used to being at his place while his roommate is awake. I’m used to stealthily tiptoeing on his tiled entryway so my heels won’t clack and wake her. But it was 9 o’clock and we were sitting on his bed talking. His bedroom door was closed—separating us from the outside world—and his TV was off.

It was closest I’ve ever been to sex without having sex; facing each other and talking in the manner that we were was perhaps the most intimate thing I’ve ever done with my clothes on. Pillow talk is different. With pillow talk, it’s usually late at night and there are no other distractions. You’re usually post-coital and naked and vulnerable to a degree. The darkness of the bedroom feels like a safe veil to disclose your secrets. This, this was lights-on, fully clothed, plain-view, conscious talk. It was an act of intimacy without the usual gimmicks that compose the situation, which, in itself, made it even more special. The act of intimacy, without being physically intimate, can be so much more.