Graceful as a Duck

I had a girl I was previously talking to hit me up. She needed help moving and offered me $50. I said yes knowing I wasn’t going to take her money. She is a hard-working mom and I have a soft spot for moms. The entire project took me 15 minutes. She just needed some last minute boxes taken out of the truck and moved upstairs.

After I turned down the money, she offered to buy me food. I agreed because I like food. Problem is, food doesn’t arrive for 30 minutes. We are sitting and talking. I help her with a few more things around the house and I keep seeing her side-eyeing me. My stupid awkward self doesn’t even realize what was happening until after food arrives. I just kept thinking “why is she looking at me weird”. Enter face palm.

We sit at the counter and start eating. When she finishes, she moves to the couch. That’s when the pistons decide to start working and it clicks. I look at her and she looks good. She is wearing a crop top that forms to her body perfectly. Her yoga pants show that she has been working out. The side-eye she gives me on the couch says “come and get me”.

Little voice on my head says no. Leave. Walk out right now. And, I obviously don’t listen. I walk over and lay behind her on the couch, wrapping my arms around her. She grabs my arms and squeezes. She feels good. This feels good. I start running my fingers tips up her arms and across her stomach. Once I see her arm start twitching, I run my hands up onto her back and start giving her a back massage. She embraces it fully.

Her body gets into the massage; pushing back into my hands and rocking with me. Her back arches as I go lower. I work out all the knots and feel her relaxing in my arms. She leans back and wraps my arms around her again, squeezing me so that I am holding her close. As I hold her she dances her finger tips across my biceps, making me feel like a king.

The movie that we were “watching” ends. I tell her I am tired and should get some rest. She asks “oh we can go to bed if you’re tired”. My brain starts firing again. She is asking me to stay. She is asking me to spend the night. What do I do? What am I supposed to do? My mind is racing. My body is aching. She looks amazing and is asking me to stay. Dear reader, I want to tell you that I said no. I want to tell you that I was smooth and sweet and let her down gently with charisma and grace. But, that’s not what happened.

After asking me to bed, she stood up from the couch. While turning to face me as I’m still sitting, she grabbed my hands and pulled herself into me. She pressed her body against me. Her eyes just looking down at me, smiling, knowing my answer. If I stand up right now, I will kiss her. If I kiss her, I will keep kissing her. If I keep kissing her, I will go to bed with her. This is what runs through my mind as she is looking down at me with those enchanting eyes. I know that if I stand up right now I will not be able to resist her.

So, I roll over. Or should I say, I lean backwards away from her and roll off the couch onto the floor. She looks at me like I’m an idiot. I am an idiot. A beautiful woman just pressed her amazing body against me and asked me to go to bed with her and my response was to roll off the couch onto the floor away from her all while saying, “nope nope nope nope nope”.

With those eyes no longer giving me a look of endearing and replaced with straight bewilderment, I am able to give her a hug and rush out the door. Which is when I realize that my shoes are in the garage. So, I back track into the house, pass her again, grab my shoes, give her another hug and get the hell out of there.

I wasn’t strong. I wasn’t charming. I wasn’t graceful. I was the awkward duck that I am but I knew that this is what a not-enchanted me really wants: long-term over short-term. So I got the hell out. She texted me later on saying thanks for the help. I responded saying any time. I am happy I did it. Women who have children need real true love and caring, and that is not what we would have. It would be fun and passionate, but it wouldn’t be long term, and that’s the jerk I don’t want to be anymore.

I drove home and blared music, laughing at my awkwardness but smiling and accepting myself, because it’s better to be a dork than a jerk.

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