Go Ahead, Call Me A Pig, I’ve Heard Worse
(A narrative)
Met her at the seminar and asked her over for an
early dinner. I assured her my aim was not to get
into her pants. I said, “It would be too soon for
me.” I use that line all the time and they usually
buy it.
Showed her some poetry books, asked about her
childhood and her family. I don’t even remember
her answers. She showed me some pictures from
her wallet – her cousin or a friend or something,
I don’t remember.
I displayed confidence in the kitchen but not too
much, more like a world-weary confidence, as if
I’d been doing this chef thing for years, adding
pinches of things with an understated flourish,
displaying the requisite false modesty after I fed
her a sip of the sauce with the wooden spoon, with
my other hand palm-up underneath her chin - I
always like that nurturing, semi-intimate gesture -
and she swooned at the taste and hopefully at the
thought of a man who (supposedly) loved to cook.
I tried to agree with most of the things she said
over dinner, furrowing my brow and pursing my
lips when I wanted her to think she had made a
point worth pondering. I intentionally forgot to
light the candles so that she could do it as a small
act of taking care of me. I made sure to tell her
about some of my embarrassing moments that
never happened.
We went for a stroll in the park after dinner. I
wanted her to think I loved children. I pointed at
one and said, “Look at that cute kid.” Almost any
kid would have sufficed. The one I picked was
playing with a ball or a stick or something.
I sensed things were going well so it was time to
bring up my old girlfriend so that we could talk
about relationships. I looked for an opportunity.
When she said she liked country music, I lied that
my old girlfriend was a big country music fan.
She took the bait and asked what happened
between my old girlfriend and me. I didn’t say
anything for a few seconds so that she would
think I was getting deep and that I was going to be
straight with her. Then I acted winsome and
reflective. I said my old girlfriend had left me (which
wasn’t true) , and get this: I said I thought my old
girlfriend was afraid of intimacy, and that, yes, I
know that’s a role reversal, but that that’s what I
had wanted – someone to be close to, someone to
share my feelings with.
Okay, okay, this is getting long, and I’m almost
ready to vomit myself, so I’ll cut to the chase.
Did we wind up in bed? You bet. Not that night,
but a few days later. Now, you can go ahead and
call me a pig. I’ve heard worse. But just
understand one thing. I was only trying to satisfy
a biological urge. I didn’t ask to be wired this
way. It’s the way God made me: horny as all get
up. But see, I can’t be honest with women about
that because overtly sex-charged guys turn them
off big time (well, usually) , so I’m forced to use
deceit. I don’t mean to hurt anyone. I wish I
didn’t have to go through such a rigmarole to get
laid, but there’s no other way.
If it gives you any solace, I ended up marrying
her. Yeah, after all that, I actually liked her. I
guess I love her too, whatever that means. Turns
out she likes sex even more than me, who knew?
One day, I confessed to her about all those
manipulative ruses I had used to get her in the
sack. She wasn’t even mad. She just formed her
face into a little pout, gave me a playful slap, and
said, “I hope we have daughters. Then you’ll get your
comeuppance.” She got her wish.
poem by Michael Philips
Added by Poetry Lover
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